The Plan to Save the Villainess Supporting Actress [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 29.1

The first public performance stage of the show was set in a small stadium in H City. In addition to the twelve competing group stages, there were four special mentor performances and a theme song performance by all trainees.

Official online voting opened simultaneously with the start of the performance and would close 48 hours later. The on-site votes combined with the online votes would determine the top 60 trainees to advance to the next round.

Three hours before the show started, the girls began doing their makeup and changing into their stage outfits in group order.

Inside one of the dressing rooms, several girls from the The Fool group had their eyes closed, dozing off while makeup artists worked on their faces. Those who weren’t in the chairs yet sat on small stools behind them, sleeping in various crooked positions.

One makeup artist couldn’t help but laugh. “Why is your group so sleepy? I haven’t seen the other groups looking this exhausted.”

Jian Zhiyao answered almost mid-dream, “Don’t… even ask… I only slept… what, two and a half hours last night?”

The artist was shocked. “Oh dear, on such an important day, you dared to pull an all-nighter? Aren’t you afraid of making a mistake on stage?”

Jian Zhiyao remained fast asleep. The makeup artist smiled helplessly and lightened her touch to let them rest a bit longer.

The peace was shattered by a sudden rush of footsteps and a panicked voice:

“Yulin! The clothes—our group’s clothes have been ruined!”

Yu Yulin, half-awake, jolted upright and stared at Ji Qiu in disbelief. “What?!”

“And your violin!” Ji Qiu was frantic, shaking Kong Annie awake. “The violin was smashed on the floor, and the bow is missing!”

The girls who were awake gasped, and those on standby immediately rushed out.

“Ma’am, please hurry, I need to go see too!” The three still in the makeup chairs were nearly in tears.

How could this happen?! They had only been away from their resting area for fifteen minutes!

On the other side of the backstage area, Zhu Ran and the others stared at the wreckage of their section, speechless.

To facilitate private changing, the production team had set up temporary tents. To ensure privacy, no cameras were installed inside. Now, the The Fool group’s performance outfits had been hacked to pieces with scissors and smeared with foundation and other liquids. They were completely unusable.

Even worse was Kong Annie’s violin.

After negotiating with the crew, she had her family send it specially. Annie had practiced since childhood; her elders had gifted her an Amati violin upon entering high school. Since it was crafted by an Italian master, the instrument was extremely expensive—but its sentimental value was priceless.

Now, the violin that had accompanied her for years lay on the ground, the body cracked and scarred, the expensive bow gone.

The moment Kong Annie saw this, her legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees. She cradled the instrument with trembling hands, tears falling onto the orange-red wood.

“This was… the last gift my grandmother gave me…” she sobbed uncontrollably.

Zhu Ran bit her lip so hard it turned white, her face deathly cold. To do something like this right before a performance—she couldn’t think of anyone other than a rival group.

Zhu Ran helped Kong Annie into a chair and told Ji Qiu to find the production staff to see if there was any way to salvage the costumes or props.

“What about you? Where are you going?”

“To find the culprit.”

Zhu Ran picked up a shredded scrap of a jacket and strode out with long steps.

Two sections over was the resting area for the Because group. Zhu Ran ripped aside the entrance curtain.

Aside from her targets, several others who were usually on good terms with them were present. They froze, startled by the look on Zhu Ran’s face. Zhu Ran had a cold, beautiful face, but she was usually approachable—if you complimented her, she’d just turn her head and blush.

This was the first time they had seen her look like this: cold, furious, and ready to strike.

“What’s wrong, Zhu Ran? Did something happen? Why are you holding a rag?”

Tang Keyue rose in shock, but as she got closer, she realized it wasn’t a rag—it was a piece of their stage costume!

“Holy crap! Why are your clothes like this?! Who did it!” Xia Lan was stunned, then it clicked. Who else could it be? Their rivals were right here!

But as they looked at the people in the room, everyone’s eyes drifted toward Shen Jiaying, only to hesitate.

Wait, it actually doesn’t look like Shen Jiaying did it.

Zhu Ran slammed the fabric down in front of Shen Jiaying. Before she could speak, Xia Lan blocked her. “Wait, wait, Ran, calm down. It might not be her.”

“When was the last time you saw the clothes intact?”

Zhu Ran ground her teeth, taking a long time to settle. “Twenty minutes ago.”

Shen Jiaying’s tears came on cue. Two streaks ran down her face, mixing with her fresh makeup to form muddy droplets on her chin. “A-Ran, you must be misunderstanding. It really wasn’t me. How could I do that to you? We’re sisters who grew up together.”

She looked like a delicate flower in the rain, but her performance made everyone in the room shudder.

Xia Lan caught Tang Keyue’s eye, signaling her to go find Nan Zhi.

“Zhu Ran, it really wasn’t Shen Jiaying,” Mu Siqiong sighed. “She’s been with us for the last hour. She did her makeup with me; she was never alone.”

The curtain was lifted again, and a familiar scent of coconut milk wafted into the area, miraculously calming Zhu Ran down.

She turned slowly. The girl entering had large, wavy hair and a vintage color-blocked outfit. Her puffy skirt was exaggerated and playful, making her look like a sweet little cake.

Zhu Ran pursed her lips. For some reason, the moment she saw Nan Zhi, all her suppressed frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface.

It was strange. She had faced countless moments far worse than this—moments that were more suffocating and painful—yet she had never truly cried. She had never shown her fragility to anyone.

Until she met Nan Zhi. Starting from those first tears hidden by the rain, she could never hide her emotions from this person. Her eyes grew misty and red, silently telling Nan Zhi: I’ve been wronged. I need you.

The “little cake” reached out and, in front of everyone, interlaced her fingers with Zhu Ran’s.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The warm embrace felt like magic, soothing Zhu Ran’s heart. Nan Zhi understood better than anyone that Zhu Ran needed this hug. Zhu Ran had been through this cycle so many times—thinking she was about to find happiness, only to have her dreams smashed at the peak of expectation.

Initially, Zhu Ran had been like a pool of stagnant water. Now, that water had been stirred into life by the “koi fish” Nan Zhi had tossed in, and emotions were flowing endlessly.

Nan Zhi patted her back gently. “Shao Xiling did it. Don’t worry about her; I’ll take out the trash for you. You just go where you’re needed.”

Zhu Ran’s muffled voice came from her embrace, her breath hot and lingering. “Can I really do it?”

“Nobody knows your song better than you, right?”

Zhu Ran buried her head deeper, taking a long breath of that coconut milk scent before forcing herself to pull away. Nan Zhi was right; she had her own battlefield.

After Zhu Ran left, Shen Jiaying’s expression became vacant.

To be more precise, from the moment Nan Zhi and Zhu Ran started interacting, she looked as if she had been struck by lightning. Everyone else seemed used to it—it was just a hug between friends to offer encouragement after a disaster.

But for some reason, the sight of those two figures overlapping almost made Shen Jiaying’s mask crumble. She knew Zhu Ran trusted Nan Zhi. She knew they were getting closer. But seeing it with her own eyes was different.

Shen Jiaying stood up abruptly and walked to Nan Zhi.

Nan Zhi looked back with impatience and disdain. “What? Don’t get too close to me; your perfume is nauseating.”

Shen Jiaying whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: “You and Zhu Ran… what is your relationship?”

Even she didn’t know why she asked. Nan Zhi stared at her for a moment, then grinned.

“We’re dating. Why, are you jealous?”

It felt as if a massive boulder had slammed into Shen Jiaying’s chest. She looked up at Nan Zhi with pure malice. Vile thief. How dare you steal my things. Unforgivable.

“You were the one who instructed Shao Xiling to ruin their things, weren’t you?” Nan Zhi sneered.

She had the System monitoring Shen Jiaying, but she hadn’t anticipated her colluding with Shao Xiling to make the “cannon fodder” do her dirty work. Originally, Shao Xiling wasn’t supposed to be eliminated until the second performance. Now, regardless of the results today, the production team would find her out and kick her out.

“It’s strange. I thought someone like you would like having a useful tool around to say the things a ‘kind and gentle female lead’ shouldn’t say.” Nan Zhi leaned in. “Unless… Shao Xiling was threatening you.”

Shen Jiaying turned pale, her lips trembling.

“You used her to destroy Zhu Ran’s props and took the chance to kick her off the show—killing two birds with one stone. Too bad you don’t know how to put yourself in someone else’s shoes.”

“What do you mean?”

Nan Zhi gave a sweet, chilling smile. “If I were Shao Xiling, once I realized what happened, I’d find a way to get revenge on the person who put me in this position. How long do you think it will take her to figure that out after she leaves the camp?”

Nan Zhi gave her a cold look and walked out, leaving Shen Jiaying shivering, her legs nearly giving way.

“AHHH—!”

On the big screen, Xu Silan wore a rare, gentle bun paired with a deep-V, high-waisted white gauze dress adorned with countless crystals that shimmered like a galaxy. She stepped into the center of the stage.

The screams echoed through the night. Thousands of fans held up light sticks, shouting her name.

“Welcome to the first public performance stage of 101!”

“I am the dance mentor and your host for tonight, Xu Silan. Welcome everyone!”

Another spotlight hit. Gao Hongzhe, dressed in a black velvet suit with his hair slicked back and a blue rose brooch on his chest representing his idol group, stepped out. The stadium erupted with even louder cheers. He bowed to Xu Silan, causing another wave of frenzy.

“Once again, welcome to the scene. I am the producer of 101 and your co-host, Gao Hongzhe from SoM. It’s great to see you all!”

A blue wave of light sticks formed a giant rose in the audience. Nan Zhi watched from backstage, sighing in admiration at the coordination of top-tier idol fans.

Tang Keyue poked her. “Aren’t you going to check on Zhu Ran?”

“No need,” Nan Zhi smiled. “I believe in her.”

“But their clothes—”

“Don’t worry. Zhu Ran is there.”

Tang Keyue muttered something, but Nan Zhi couldn’t hear over the screaming fans. “What did you say?”

“I said, you’re weird. You’re so close to her, but at the most critical moments, you don’t go to help.”

Nan Zhi curled her lips into a silent smile and looked at Tang Keyue seriously. “Zhu Ran doesn’t need me to, so I didn’t go.”

Tang Keyue didn’t understand. How do you know if she needs you or not?

Nan Zhi turned back to the stage. Zhu Ran needed many things—love, confidence—and Nan Zhi could give them all. But that wasn’t a long-term solution.

As the saying goes: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. It was the same in love. Zhu Ran would slowly learn to love herself and gain confidence until her world was full. Nan Zhi’s love could be a leaf on her branch or a fish in her pond, but it couldn’t be her entire four seasons. In Zhu Ran’s world, more love would appear in the future—green shade on the tree, lilies in the pond.

And Nan Zhi? She just wanted to be the first spring flower that Zhu Ran cherished.

According to the draw, The Fool group was right after them. The two groups would enter from different backstage stairs, so Nan Zhi could only feel the other group’s presence through the black curtain.

“Alright, let’s invite this group to take a rest. A reminder: there are 47 hours left until voting closes. If you have a trainee you like, please use your fingers to cast your precious vote!”

Gao Hongzhe’s smiling voice rang out. The wave of cheers infected every trainee backstage. As Yu Yulin had said, many of them had never stood on a real stage before. They had never felt the dazzle of the spotlight or the roar of a crowd.

Even Nan Zhi, the “outsider,” felt her heart racing.

“Alright, the voting for the opposing groups has ended. The results will be announced when the official episode airs, so make sure to tune in, no missing it!”

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