The Plan to Save the Villainess Supporting Actress [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 29.2

Gao Hongzhe made a lighthearted joke before moving to introduce the next pair: “Now, let’s welcome our next two groups of trainees. VCR, cue!”

As he spoke, the house lights dimmed. The giant screen on the other side flickered to life, displaying stylized posters and short clips of the girls filmed during rehearsal.

Seizing this window, the eleven members of the Because I Like You group filed out from backstage, finding their designated marks and waiting for the music and lights.

Halfway down the stage stairs, Gao Hongzhe suddenly paused and caught the last person in line, Mu Siqiong. “Wait, why is your group missing someone?”

“Eh? No way.” Mu Siqiong looked dazed. “I just counted; we had twelve. Everyone was there for roll call.”

The VCR was short, leaving no time for talk. Backstage staff urged Gao Hongzhe to clear the stage, so he had to let go and hurry down. The moment his coattails vanished from view, the spotlights flared, and the upbeat music kicked in.

Gao Hongzhe grabbed an iPad and counted carefully.

One, two… eleven.

“Look at them—are they missing one? Who is it? What happened?” Gao Hongzhe yelled into the ear of a nearby staff member.

The music was so loud and cheerful that Gao Hongzhe’s voice was cracking from shouting, and the staff member’s ears were ringing. He only caught the gist of it.

“MR. GAO! I! CAN’T! HEAR! YOU!”

“I SAID!!! THIS GROUP!! IS MISSING A PERSON!!!”

Finally hearing him, the staff member jumped in shock and scrambled back to find other colleagues. It was unheard of for a person to go missing on a formal public stage! More importantly, with so many checkpoints, how did no one notice until they were literally under the lights?

Fortunately, the audience didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. They swayed their light sticks to the rhythm, completely immersed in the joy of the performance.

Gao Hongzhe exhaled. It was a stroke of luck—the group was so large that even with a VCR intro, casual viewers wouldn’t notice a missing face. He shook his head and turned to the next group, planning to count heads so there wouldn’t be a repeat.

But when he turned around, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared with wide eyes and an open mouth for a long time before finally letting out a slow roar: “And what happened to you guys?!”

Usually, the VCR displayed the girls’ specific stage outfits so fans could recognize them.

The previous group was missing a person. This group? The entire team had changed their outfits.

Yu Yulin, the leader, blinked innocently and shouted: “Mr. Gao! It’s not that we want to cause trouble! Our clothes were destroyed! We couldn’t wear them!”

It was ridiculous. Gao Hongzhe rubbed his forehead, scanning the seven girls. He was about to tell himself not to care when he noticed another glaring detail: “Where’s your violin?!”

At the mention of it, Kong Annie looked like she was about to cry again. Her teammates hurriedly crowded around her to offer comfort. The looks they shot Gao Hongzhe were so full of resentment you’d think he’d committed a mortal sin.

Jian Zhiyao roared: “MR. GAO! MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!”

The top-tier idol Gao Hongzhe had never been treated like this in his life. He muttered a dazed “Rebellion, sheer rebellion,” and turned away, refusing to ask another word.

Whatever! It’s not my stage!

[Shielding time remaining: 10 minutes.]

The little fluffball bounced to the rhythm of the music, typing out a cheerful line of text.

The performance of Because I Like You was nearing its end. Mu Siqiong, as the Center, finished the final chorus, followed by an exaggeratedly cute head-shaking dance. Eleven heads lined up, and as the drumbeats fell, they began a synchronized frenzy.

Nan Zhi shook her head so hard she felt dizzy. The audience erupted in laughter and cheers. A “bang” announced the explosion of streamers, taking the stage to its climax. The girls struck their ending poses while clutching their dizzy heads; Tang Keyue even staggered back a few steps theatrically, making the crowd roar again.

Gao Hongzhe walked out right on time, holding his mic high: “Was that beautiful? Was it a blast?!”

“YES!” the fans screamed.

Mu Siqiong and Xia Lan were near tears. Except for Shen Jiaying, the girls held hands under the spotlight, looking at each other’s sweat and the streamers stuck to their faces, laughing through the tears. Only they knew what this group had endured in just four days.

Gao Hongzhe finished his lines and handed the mic to the leader for their speech and vote-begging. Mu Siqiong’s voice choked up. “Thank you for the applause. It means everything to us. Thank you!”

She bowed deeply, and the others followed in perfect sync—except for Shen Jiaying, who was a beat slow.

“I want to thank my teammates. It’s because of their persistence that we could finish this. And… our rivals, the The Fool group. Even though we are competitors, without their encouragement, we might not have made it here.”

Mu Siqiong sniffled. “I’m grateful to have met so many good friends. Whatever the result tonight, I have no regrets. What about you?”

The girls nodded in unison. To have brought a fractured team back together and finished this stage—how could they have regrets?

[Shielding ended. Friendly reminder: Backstage staff should be finding Shao Xiling very soon.]

Nan Zhi smiled and clapped along. [She deserves it.]

“Alright, the on-site voting begins now!” Gao Hongzhe repeated the rules. “A reminder to our audience: you have two votes per round. You can vote for both groups, or just one, or neither.”

The two-minute countdown ended, and the Because group waved as they filed off. On the other side of the stage, in the darkness, staff were pushing something into place.

“The second group is also very powerful. Are you ready? VCR, cue.”

At that moment, a graceful figure appeared on the darkened stage. She didn’t walk fast; in the dim light, she seemed to be holding her skirt, her “swan neck” slightly bowed. Her mere silhouette was enough to spark the imagination. By the time she sat down, the VCR had finished. All lights died, leaving only the soft glow of the fans’ light sticks.

“You are everywhere—”

A soft, ethereal voice rang out in the darkness. There was no accompaniment, just a low hum that seemed to seize everyone’s heart in an instant.

It was Zhu Ran!

“Within my breath, in every place unseen—”

Just two short lines, sounding like a sigh, yet also like a question.

A single beam of pure white light flared, casting a spotlight on the center of the stage. The girl had her dark hair pinned up with a simple hairpin. She wore a white dress with no extra ornaments, sitting cleanly and simply at a piano. Her skin was so pale it seemed to shimmer, making her look like a dream or a mirage. People wondered: Could such a beautiful person truly exist?

Backstage, Gao Hongzhe was stunned. “Where did the piano come from?”

Xu Silan, holding her cue cards, said calmly, “One of the lyrical groups used it earlier.”

Gao Hongzhe realized, then became confused again. “Wait, Zhu Ran can play the piano? No, wait—why are you here? Aren’t you performing soon?!”

“No rush. I want to watch.”

Gao Hongzhe wanted to say more, but one look from Xu Silan shut him up instantly.

On stage, the girl slowly raised her hands, her long, elegant fingers falling onto the keys. Note after note rang out, like someone telling a sorrowful story. Her technique was a bit rusty, as if she hadn’t seen this “old friend” in years. But in the low, winding melody, the old friend reached out to her.

Zhu Ran played on, and the tone gradually shifted. The storyteller began to sink. She was like someone trapped in a swamp; as the music rose and fell, she was no longer an outsider but someone being polished by a storm, pulled by a thousand hands.

Zhu Ran closed her eyes, surrendering her body to the melody. The rhythm spiraled, carrying her deep into a forest. At the moment everyone’s hearts were squeezed tight, the “rain” stopped abruptly—

The lights cut out mercilessly. The world returned to darkness.

It was as if the girl at the piano had been nothing more than a midsummer night’s dream.

Then came a gasp. On the other side of the stage, someone spoke the first line of the rap into a microphone.

“I’m broken.” “Like a dandelion shaken of its seeds, shattered.” “Glances, words, emotions, soul.” “Being judged—have I already lost myself?”

The lights flared to life, illuminating the entire stadium with blinding brilliance. Simultaneously, a resounding “NO!” rang out.

In that instant, the audience saw the girls’ outfits. There was a beat of silence followed by a roar a hundred times louder than when Gao Hongzhe had appeared.

The six members of The Fool had their oversized baseball jackets wide open. Underneath, they wore simple black bras—they hadn’t even removed the price tags, which hung visibly at their waists. Their hair was messy, with no extra styling; they were their most authentic selves.

“Wait, the outfits are different from the VCR!” “But they look so cool!” “So brave! Isn’t this exactly the ‘freedom of dress’ we’ve been shouting for?” “They look so beautiful and confident! I want to cry!”

Nan Zhi silently received the thoughts of the audience and couldn’t help but smile. She knew it—her girl would always amaze everyone.

On the other side of the stage, Zhu Ran picked up her heavy skirt and walked toward her teammates, step by step. Amidst the increasingly intense rap “storm,” a spotlight followed her like a deity. The moment the lights hit their peak, Zhu Ran ripped out her hairpin, letting her long, black curls cascade down.

“Nothing can bind me, no label fits me. You, a frog in a well—how dare you speak of me?”

Yan Yutong fiercely sang the final rap line. Simultaneously, the six girls stripped off their baseball jackets and tossed them into the crowd.

“WAAAAAH—!”

Another scream erupted as Zhu Ran ripped away the heavy layers of her white dress, revealing the same outfit as the other girls underneath. At this moment, they had truly cast off their shackles, boldly meeting the world’s gaze and mocking the “fools.”

When Zhu Ran reached her spot in the center, all seven girls simultaneously ripped the price tags off their bras, flicked them between their fingers, and threw them away.

A heavy drumbeat kicked in. The seven girls jumped and landed in unison, the powerful choreography paired with the sudden accompaniment pushing the atmosphere to the absolute peak.

There is nothing I dare not do. There is nothing I cannot be. No one can define me. If you tell me I can’t, that is your ignorance.

Under the psychedelic lights, the seven girls completely redefined the meaning of The Fool. They were fighting against the world’s injustices toward women, the shackles and judgments “fools” arbitrarily imposed on them.

They were a straight, sharp sword against all malice and ignorance. Every strand of hair flew with their synchronized steps. The famous chorus had been turned entirely into a rap. The song was no longer a sigh about the fickleness of fate; it was a challenge issued to fate itself.

If someone calls me a monster… I am willing to be the most sober monster of all.

Zhu Ran held the microphone and kicked fiercely at the air: “You can say ‘fucking you’ to everything you hate!”

This swear word made everyone scream with passion. Regardless of whether they were fans of these seven, everyone raised their banners and waved them frantically. Nan Zhi couldn’t help but laugh. She had said those words to Zhu Ran; she hadn’t expected Zhu Ran to put them in the lyrics.

“That was so cool!!” Tang Keyue screamed. “I knew it! They could do it!”

As the music slowly faded, the seven girls held their microphones above their heads and bowed their faces, as if performing a silent prayer.

A prayer that the world would eventually welcome everything grand and beautiful in their lyrics. A prayer that every warrior fighting for this would go forward and see victory in peace.

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Haha!” Gao Hongzhe walked out from backstage. “How was it? Was it shocking?!”

One female fan even ripped off her own overshirt and tossed it into the air. Another fan screamed: “Gao Hongzhe, you’re not allowed to look!”

“Haha, then shall I leave?” Gao Hongzhe joked toward the fan. “Personally, I think this group is incredible. I want to ask—how did you all come up with this idea?”

Yu Yulin took the mic and spoke openly: “As you can see, our original costumes weren’t like this. But three hours ago, our outfits were destroyed, so we made a last-minute decision to switch to these. We’re grateful to the production team for their support in helping us buy the clothes, including Ran’s dress.”

“So that’s what happened.” Gao Hongzhe nodded in realization and clapped. “To handle that in a few hours and bring such a shocking stage… you are truly amazing. Let’s give them a round of applause, shall we?”

“Now, I want to ask—everyone is familiar with The Fool; even my teammates have covered it. The version I remember the show giving you wasn’t this one, right?”

“Correct. The stage you see now is the result of our own rearrangement, re-choreography, and new lyrics.”

“Wow, you changed it yourselves? Is there a story behind it you’d like to share with the fans?”

“Um, why don’t you tell them, Zhu Ran?”

All eyes gathered on Zhu Ran. The humid night breeze blew softly.

Zhu Ran turned halfway, looking toward the darkness backstage. Even though she couldn’t see anything through the glare of the spotlights, she knew Nan Zhi was there in the shadows, watching her.

Zhu Ran pursed her lips and looked at the audience. Just as Nan Zhi had said, countless people were cheering for her. The light sticks had merged into a sea of stars. All the noise seemed to vanish.

Zhu Ran held the mic, her smile confident and steady.

“Of course, there is.”

“The story comes from one person who gave me endless trust and love.”

“She taught me how to break free from my shackles, how to love myself, and how to refuse everything I don’t like.”

“I used to be the ‘fool’ in this song. Surrounded by darkness, living without a sense of self. Until I met her, my beam of light.”

“She is my inspiration, the starting point of my rebirth.”

“Now I am passing this on to you. I hope you can find new life, just like this song.”

Gao Hongzhe asked with a smile: “Oh? Is this person one of our trainees?”

Zhu Ran’s eyes shimmered like stars.

“Yes. Her name is Nan Zhi.”

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