The Vicious Female Supporting Character Goes Viral After Her Masks Drop During the Talent Show - Chapter 11

After Tian Jingyu spoke, Yu Junran was momentarily stunned before realization dawned on him. His expression grew serious.

With a powerful wild card like Zhong Yan suddenly entering the mix, it wasn’t surprising that Tian Jingyu was worried. Anyone with half a brain could see what a massive draw Zhong Yan was. It was hard to guarantee that Zhang Jing wouldn’t change his mind and decide to push her as the show’s star instead.

“She already stole the spotlight during the initial evaluations,” Tian Jingyu added. “If I don’t secure the Initial Center (Initial C) position, I’ll be on the defensive for the rest of the show.”

Yu Junran understood that the early stages of a survival show were critical for building a fan base. If you didn’t gain momentum early on, staging a comeback later was incredibly difficult. Even if they used “black-box operations” to force her into the final Center spot at the end, she would be branded as a “Royal” fraud, destroying her reputation with the general public.

He thought it over and nodded. “I understand. I’ll go pressure my uncle today.” He looked at Tian Jingyu. “But don’t worry too much. The management for previous debut groups has always been in partnership with Dingming, and this year is no different. As long as that business interest remains, Producer Zhang won’t disrespect Dingming.”

“Okay.” Tian Jingyu felt slightly relieved and became more docile. She leaned against Yu Junran’s chest, hugging him gently.

She had known Yu Junran since high school. Over the years, they had maintained a secret, on-and-off relationship. She knew his temperament well—he liked women who knew how to act coy. Realizing she had been a bit too aggressive earlier out of anxiety, she quickly made up for it. After all, she was asking him for a favor.

The hug worked. Yu Junran pulled her close with one arm and patted her head. “By the way, I have some good news for you.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t worry about Yan Shi anymore.”

Tian Jingyu looked up from his chest, her eyes bright with surprise. “It’s handled?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Yu Junran made a pinching gesture with his fingers and smirked triumphantly. “I found his Achilles’ heel.”

The new recording hall was like a miniature stadium, exceptionally spacious. The 100 trainees were divided by rank and stood in formation. On the stage in front, the mentors and the Producer took their places. With the lights and cameras ready, the Theme Song task was officially announced.

Only Yan Shi, Mu Bin, and Yu Junran were present for this session. Since it was just a task announcement and a basic tutorial, the full panel wasn’t required.

Yan Shi hosted the proceedings, first revealing the Theme Song video. The track was youthful and energetic with a catchy hook. Zhong Yan found the melody quite good and the choreography even better—it balanced sweetness with power and a hint of subtle sexiness.

After the video, Yan Shi began announcing the rules. They were the standard survival show rules Zhong Yan remembered from the script: the trainees had five days to learn the song and dance before undergoing a re-evaluation by the mentors. Their new grades would determine their positions and screen time in the music video. Furthermore, the mentors would select the best trainee from Class A to be the Initial Center.

Up until the midpoint, the rules matched the original script exactly. However, when Yan Shi turned to the final card, he read:

“Additionally, all trainees who finish in Class A will automatically become candidates for the Center position. The specific selection rules for the Center will be announced after the re-evaluations.”

A wave of murmurs rippled through the hall. The girls exchanged surprised glances.

“Aren’t the Center rules usually announced immediately? And doesn’t the mentor panel usually just pick someone?” “Why wait until after the re-evaluations? Does that mean the selection process has changed?” “Maybe they just want to save the surprise for later.”

Tian Jingyu frowned, an inexplicable sense of unease rising in her chest. She glanced at Yu Junran for answers, but he looked just as confused. He hadn’t heard anything about a rule change.

According to previous seasons, if the mentors chose the Center, there was plenty of room for manipulation. Every Class A student was talented; choosing one over the other was a subjective decision. He could guide the conversation, or even have Zhang Jing intervene. Mentors rarely ignored the producer’s wishes. But if the rules changed, the room for “inside deals” became uncertain.

Yu Junran grew wary and decided to seek out Zhang Jing as soon as the recording ended.

After the announcement, the teaching session began. Mu Bin and Yu Junran took over while Yan Shi was guided out of the hall by staff.

Technically, his work for the day was done, but Yan Shi didn’t leave. Instead, he grabbed a book from his dressing room and returned to the corridor outside the hall, pacing back and forth. The trainees would exit through this hallway once the session ended.

Yan Shi looked down at the book in his hands, his fingers tracing the cover. He opened it, then quickly closed it. He held it close to his chest, looking nervous, though a faint, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced at the closed doors of the recording hall, listening to the muffled sounds of music and dancing, waiting for signs of the end.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated repeatedly. He pulled it out to see a new message. The moment he saw the sender’s name, the smile on his lips and the light in his eyes vanished instantly.

The sender was listed as “Mother,” but the real sender was likely his stepfather.

The message thread was filled with voice notes sent at all hours, day and night, covering the screen. Some had been played, others hadn’t, but not a single one had been replied to. Expressionless, Yan Shi tapped the latest voice note and held the phone to his ear.

“Your mother and I are cursed to have raised such an ungrateful wolf like you!” a coarse, middle-aged male voice shouted in a thick regional accent. “You’re a big star now? Got money? Think you’re hot stuff so you can forget your parents?!”

“Your mother and I can barely afford to eat, and you won’t give us a cent?! You look like a human, but your heart is more vicious than a ghost! That face you use to make money—your mother gave you that! Without her, you’d be nothing!”

In the background, a familiar middle-aged woman’s voice could be heard whispering to the man. “Stop talking nonsense. Get to the point.”

The man paused, then roared into the microphone, “Final warning! One million. Deposit it into your mother’s account by the end of the day. If you don’t, be careful—all that trash you did in high school? We’ll leak every bit of it!”

The recording ended. Yan Shi pulled the phone away, his face still blank, as if he had become numb to the routine. He leaned against the corridor window and, after a moment’s thought, finally sent a reply.

In a smoke-filled mahjong parlor, the tiles lay scattered across a table. Wu Liang sat at the table, taking a drag from a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of white smoke. His gambling buddies hadn’t arrived yet; only he and his wife, Yan Ai, were in the cramped room.

Yan Ai was forty-five. Despite the marks of time on her face, her sharp features hinted at her youthful beauty. She sat on a small sofa, legs crossed, a cigarette dangling between her fingers.

“Still no reply?” she asked, gesturing toward the phone on the table.

Wu Liang was a few years younger than her. He wasn’t bad-looking but had grown oily and bloated. He scratched his greasy stomach and leaned over the phone. Just as he was about to shake his head, a notification popped up.

“He replied! He replied!” Wu Liang jumped up.

Yan Ai smirked. “I told you. You have to use the high school stuff to squeeze him.” She stood up. “What did he say?”

Wu Liang crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and opened the message. There was only one sentence:

“There is someone who is even more afraid of the truth than I am. If you want money, go find him.”

Below it was a string of digits—a phone number. Wu Liang and Yan Ai looked at each other in confusion.

After replying, Yan Shi put his phone away just as the doors to the recording hall opened. The trainees began to file out. Yan Shi’s expression softened immediately, the cold numbness from moments ago nowhere to be found. He stood straight and searched the crowd for Zhong Yan.

The trainees passing by greeted him, eyeing him curiously and wondering why he was waiting there. When they saw the book in his arms, they understood.

“Looks like even the Producer wants an autograph,” some whispered, giggling among themselves. A few bolder girls looked back at Zhong Yan, who was walking at the tail end of the group, and shouted, “Teacher Zhong! Another fan is here for your signature!”

Zhong Yan looked up and saw Yan Shi standing by the window. When their eyes met, he awkwardly looked away, his entire body stiffening. Zhong Yan found it amusing—it’s just an autograph, why is he so nervous?

She quickened her pace and teased him as she approached, “Am I usually so fierce that the Producer is terrified to see me?”

Yan Shi blinked. “No! It’s just… I… ahem…” He looked down, unable to explain.

Zhong Yan chuckled. “I’m joking.”

Yan Shi’s tense lips finally relaxed, and he let out a helpless sigh. “Teacher Zhong.”

Zhong Yan looked at the book in his arms—it was a collector’s edition of Hate the Spring Breeze. She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

Yan Shi waited until the others had mostly cleared the area before handing it over. Zhong Yan opened the cover, and just as she was about to ask if he had a pen, she saw a small slip of paper tucked into the title page.

She paused and looked up at him. Yan Shi gave her a small nod. She unfolded the paper to find a handwritten phone number.

“That’s my contact info… um… it’s my WeChat, too.” Yan Shi’s lips thinned nervously as he carefully chose his words. “During the show, if Teacher Zhong ever needs any help, you can contact me.”

Zhong Yan looked him directly in his shimmering dark eyes. “And after the show? Can I still contact you then?”

Yan Shi froze, caught in her steady gaze. The sunlight from the window hit his ears, which had turned a vivid red, turning the fine peach fuzz on them pink. “Of course… of course you can.”

“Good.” Zhong Yan smiled and tucked the paper into her pocket. “With your word, I feel much better. I was hoping to invite you to collaborate on a new project in the future.”

Zhong Yan was indeed relieved; she had confirmed that Yan Shi was now hers to use, meaning her future career plans could proceed smoothly.

Hearing her last sentence, Yan Shi realized he had slightly misinterpreted the moment. He looked down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Still, the prospect of working on a new project with her made him genuinely happy.

“However, I don’t have my phone right now,” Zhong Yan said. “I’ll have to add you after I leave the show.”

Yan Shi looked up, his smile returning. “It doesn’t matter. Anytime is fine. I’ll wait for you.”