After Being Bound to the Scummy Alpha System, I Became Famous Thanks to My Face Blindness - Chapter 33

That night, Xiao Nan brought good news.

You really had to hand it to her—once she got fired up, her efficiency shot through the roof. No one knew how she’d managed it, but she somehow got the “Perfect Jawline” mission replaced with “Flawless Skin.”

Xiao Nan proudly reported her achievement to Tang Ling. “I used all my silver tongue to bargain for this on your behalf, Host! You have to hurry and complete the mission, recover soon, and most importantly—don’t let Shishi worry about you!”

Tang Ling found Xiao Nan rather endearing. A system support AI boasting about her silver tongue when she probably didn’t even have a physical body was honestly kind of funny. She replied sincerely, “Thank you, Xiao Nan. I’ll make sure to complete the mission and recover as soon as possible.”

“And don’t forget,” Xiao Nan emphasized, “you can’t let Shishi worry.”

Tang Ling chuckled. “Right. I won’t let Shishi worry.”

The next morning, Tan Shiyi went to the cafeteria and, under the kitchen auntie’s guidance, stewed a pot of pigeon soup for Tang Ling.

She had planned to finish early and deliver it straight to Tang Ling’s dorm, but it took longer than she expected to prep the pigeon—it wasn’t exactly a beginner-friendly ingredient. By the time it finished simmering, it was already late.

So, she carried the thermos to Tang Ling’s practice room.

Cheng Qingyan was there too.

When Tan Shiyi walked in holding the thermos, Cheng Qingyan’s expression flickered with brief surprise. But she quickly regained her usual calm composure and simply nodded politely in greeting.

Jiang Manli, on the other hand, exclaimed dramatically, “Oh, sister-in-law, you’re finally here! I knew you couldn’t bear to leave our Ling-jie alone. Lemme see what goodies you brought!”

Ignoring her, Tan Shiyi opened the lid and pushed the thermos toward Tang Ling. “It’s my first time making this, so I can’t promise it tastes good, but it’s nutritious. You should drink it while it’s hot.”

Tang Ling blinked in surprise. “Pigeon soup? You made this yourself?”

“Mm. The cafeteria auntie taught me. I heard pigeon soup helps replenish blood and energy.”

“Then I won’t be polite.” Tang Ling accepted the spoon, took a sip, and smiled. “It’s really good—fresh and rich.”

Tan Shiyi finally exhaled in relief. It was her first time ever making soup for someone, and she’d been nervous about how it would turn out. Hearing that kind of praise was more than enough for her.

“As long as you like it,” she said gently. “Drink slowly. I’ll come by later to pick up the thermos. I’ll make you something else tomorrow.”

“No need to cook for me every day,” Tang Ling said, rising to walk her out. “Why don’t you stay for a bit?”

Tan Shiyi shook her head. “No, I still need to practice guitar. And Fu Xin’s piano isn’t that steady yet—I promised to help her.”

At that, Cheng Qingyan paused and instinctively turned her gaze toward Tang Ling.

Tang Ling caught on and nodded. “Ah, so Fu Xin’s the one on piano for your group. Qingyan’s ours. If you two ever need to coordinate, feel free to come discuss.”

Tan Shiyi nodded. “Thank you.”

Cheng Qingyan watched Tan Shiyi’s back as she left, then quietly asked, “She told you?”

“Told me what?” Tang Ling looked puzzled. “If you mean that she can play piano—yeah. She even apologized seriously about it. I thought something big had happened.”

“And what did you think of that?”

Tang Ling thought for a moment. “Not much, really. I just felt kind of sorry for her. We’re all friends—there’s no need to be so cautious around me.”

Cheng Qingyan nodded slowly, as if understanding something. “Got it.”

She didn’t say anything more. Instead, she turned back to the digital piano and began playing Insomniac Moon.

Tang Ling couldn’t help glancing at her twice. There was something different in Cheng Qingyan’s playing today—something more layered, almost like emotion bleeding through the melody.

As the days passed, training grew increasingly intense, and the lights in the practice room went out later and later each night.

The group’s performance of Insomniac Moon was now fluid and confident. Still, Tang Ling felt that a band without a guitar just didn’t feel complete. So, she decided to push the responsibility onto Jiang Manli—handing her a guitar and telling her to at least strum a few chords onstage.

Jiang Manli, who had only just memorized the lyrics two days ago, nearly collapsed. “Ling-jie, this is way too much! The performance is in, what, two or three days? Even if I stop eating and sleeping, there’s no way I’ll learn it!”

Tang Ling replied calmly, “If you stop eating and sleeping, you can learn it. You’re great at air guitar, aren’t you? Just channel that energy. All you need are a few chords—the rest is acting.”

“Air guitar? That’s just me messing around! I can’t actually play! The second I pick this thing up, I forget all the lyrics!”

Expression blank, Tang Ling said, “Jiang Manli, you’re currently ranked forty-sixth in popularity—the lowest in our entire group. If we lose this round, you’ll be eliminated for sure. Then you can stay home scrolling through your phone while Lu Yao starts a new CP with someone else.”

Jiang Manli’s eyes went wide. “Ling-jie, you’re too cruel! How could you say that! Fine, fine—show me how to hold this stupid thing!”

On the day of the fourth performance.

Though Tang Ling couldn’t perform due to her injury, she still showed up to the venue. She wore the same black stage outfit as the rest of her teammates and sat in the viewing area.

By draw, Insomniac Moon was the first to perform.

Backstage, the members made their final preparations.

The host first turned to Tang Ling for an interview. “Tang Ling, as the team leader who can’t participate in today’s performance, do you feel any regret?”

Tang Ling answered, “Of course there’s some regret. But I believe in my team—they’ll give everyone a stunning show.”

Host: “Is there anything else you’d like to say to your teammates?”

Tang Ling thought for a moment, then looked straight into the camera and said earnestly, “I want to remind our main vocalist, Jiang Manli—believe in yourself, stay calm, and don’t forget the lyrics.”

Jiang Manli, already so nervous her palms were slick with sweat, blurted out a curse. “I swear, I’ve never been this nervous in my entire life.”

Chi Ningrui couldn’t help but laugh. “If this airs, you and Tang Ling might end up with your own CP fans.”

Hearing that, Lu Yao also broke into a smile.

Something in Jiang Manli shifted. Since she was about to go on stage anyway, why not just let go? She waved her hand dramatically. “Air guitar, let’s go!”

The only reason Jiang Manli had managed to survive in Beidou Star for this long was pure luck. Every team she joined just happened to avoid elimination—it had little to do with her actual skill. Before joining Tang Ling’s group, she’d been happily coasting along, never imagining she could truly shine on stage.

This was the first time she stood at the very center of the spotlight, looking out at the sea of cheering fans with their arms raised. For a moment, she felt dazed and unreal.

Lu Yao nudged her gently. “Once you’re ready, don’t forget the cue signal.”

Jiang Manli took a deep breath and flashed an OK sign toward the stage crew.

The music began. Lights shifted and flared; the stage gleamed so brightly it almost hurt to look at. Below, glow sticks swayed in waves, and she could even hear people calling her name. Multiple cameras swung toward the center of the stage, tracking her every move.

Jiang Manli stared at the crowd, stunned. Her heart fluttered with a childlike joy—like a student who’d never been praised finally getting recognized for the first time.

Making it to the fourth round of performances was already a feat in itself. Rather than hold back, she might as well go all out. Worst case? She’d just get eliminated.

She began to strum the familiar chords she and Tang Ling had practiced till dawn the night before, singing:

“Listen to me, even if you’re tired tonight, don’t turn off the lights—

let’s prepare for a grand flight together.”

The original version of Insomniac Moon was a soft, mellow song, but for the band’s arrangement, they’d added rock elements to make it livelier and more rhythmic.

The audience waved their glow sticks in time with the beat; some even sang along. The atmosphere grew electric.

The rest of the band, swept up in the energy, played with renewed passion.

The longer Jiang Manli sang, the more exhilarated she felt. This kind of lively chaos was her element—it was almost like clubbing. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was having fun. Letting loose came naturally to her, so she threw herself into it completely, jumping around the stage, forgetting all the “cool” moves she’d carefully choreographed.

She only knew how to play a few simple chords, hardly enough to express the excitement bubbling up inside her. Then she suddenly remembered Tang Ling’s joking words—“Just act your way through it if you have to” and, inspired, she slung the guitar off her shoulder and began strumming the air with exaggerated flair.

The audience went wild. No one had expected the very first act to be this unrestrained.

“No wonder Tang Ling was so confident—this is pure joy!”

“Jiang Manli’s stage presence is insane!”

“I never thought Insomniac Moon could be performed like this.”

Tang Ling kept a professional smile on her face, though inside, she was dying a little—her wound even felt like it might reopen. Still, the result was not bad. Just very different from what she’d envisioned.

When the performance ended, it was time for Insomniac Moon’s evaluation.

Before the host could even start the Q&A, Jiang Manli turned to the camera and shouted, “Ling-jie, did you see that? I didn’t embarrass you, did I?”

Tang Ling was momentarily speechless.

Host: “Were you this high-energy during practice, too?”

Jiang Manli chuckled sheepishly. “Not really—guess the live atmosphere brought it out of me.”

Pan Qingchen smiled. “We were worried your team might struggle without Tang Ling, but I suppose we didn’t need to be.”

Lu Yao added, “There was definitely an impact. Tang Ling was supposed to handle guitar, so Manli had to take over last minute. She was under a lot of pressure, but she practiced hard—stayed up late every night to get it right.”

Jiang Manli beamed at the praise, practically wagging her tail. “Ah, it wasn’t that bad, haha.”

Host: “Alright, please head backstage to rest. We’ll announce all results once every performance is over.”

As Jiang Manli’s group exited, the next team moved into position.

Their song: Can You Forget Me.

Tan Shiyi stood up, slinging the guitar Tang Ling had given her over her shoulder.

As she passed by Tang Ling, she paused for a moment, glancing at her briefly.

Tang Ling recognized the guitar instantly and gestured with a small encouraging sign—“You got this.”

Tan Shiyi nodded. “I’ll do my best.”