The Vicious Female Supporting Character Goes Viral After Her Masks Drop During the Talent Show - Chapter 8

The moon had reached its zenith, and while the world outside was shrouded in darkness, the studio remained brilliantly lit. It was already past midnight, but the filming for the initial evaluations was still underway.

The initial stage was each contestant’s talent debut. The mentors would grade them based on their performance, ranking them from Class A to Class F—A being the elite and F being the lowest.

Because of the sheer number of performances and the fluctuating quality of the acts, both the mentors and the trainees were beginning to show signs of exhaustion. It wasn’t until the logo of Dingming Entertainment appeared on the big screen that everyone perked up.

The next group: Dingming Entertainment.

As one group performed, the next would wait in the wings. After the three girls from Dingming entered the stage, Zhong Yan was led into the waiting room by the staff. Whether by coincidence or design, her turn always seemed to follow Dingming’s.

Zhong Yan stretched her stiff limbs and turned her gaze toward the monitor in the waiting room, which was broadcasting the live feed from the stage. In the “original script,” this was where the story truly began. This was Xia Meng’s moment.

Xia Meng was a commoner girl from a small town who had harbored dreams of the stage since childhood. She had signed with Dingming Entertainment and joined Best Girls specifically to chase her idol, Yu Junran. In the original plot, she went from a naive “underdog” to a dark horse, eventually debuting in the Center position. Along the way, she won the favor of her idol, Yu Junran, and caught the eye of her agency’s CEO, Lu Tingshen.

That was the basic premise of the story’s early arc.

At this point in the plot, Xia Meng was supposed to showcase her innocent, optimistic charm and declare herself a die-hard fan of Yu Junran, creating a viral moment and earning his attention and affection. This was meant to be one of the highlights of the first episode.

However, looking at the live feed, reality didn’t seem to be following the script.

Xia Meng followed the plot, expressing her love as a fan during her self-introduction, and the trio’s performance was quite good. But Yu Junran’s enthusiasm was noticeably lower than expected. While his reaction to Xia Meng wasn’t cold, it was far from warm.

In contrast, Zhong Yan noticed that he was making significantly more eye contact with Tian Jingyu.

Zhong Yan pursed her lips, a playful glint in her eyes. She knew exactly what was happening. There was one major discrepancy between this reality and the original plot: Yan Shi.

In the original script, Yan Shi didn’t exist in Best Girls. In fact, he didn’t appear alive anywhere in the original story; he only popped up briefly as a “plot device” after his death.

That was because Yan Shi was a discarded male lead.

In the very first draft of the script, Yan Shi was the protagonist. His character was an underdog with no background and a heavy burden of “black materials” (scandals). He was supposed to crawl his way up from the bottom of the industry to become an Award-winning Actor through sheer talent and hard work.

However, the investors were unhappy with an “underdog” protagonist. The screenwriter, Mr. Qian, subsequently scrapped Yan Shi and replaced him with the overbearing CEO, Lu Tingshen.

Zhong Yan had felt a deep sense of regret back then because she loved Yan Shi’s character profile—a man walking alone in the dark who always kept light in his heart. As the original lead, despite his hardships, his kindness would have eventually been rewarded.

After he was discarded, however, his storyline was too intertwined to be deleted entirely. Mr. Qian kept him as an NPC (non-playable character), leaving him in the script to be used whenever the plot needed a sacrifice. And the plot only needed him when it was time for him to die.

In the final version of the script, Yan Shi became a tragic “cannon fodder” character. He spent his entire life in misery, unable to escape the dark abyss the writer had carved for him, until the day he died.

Zhong Yan couldn’t stand seeing good people meet bad ends. After transmigrating into the script world, her secondary goal—besides saving herself—was to give Yan Shi a hand. That was why she had recommended him to Director Xu You during the casting for Hate the Spring Breeze.

Because of her interference, the timeline was disrupted. Yan Shi had become a top-tier superstar and was now standing on the stage of Best Girls as the National Producer.

His unexpected rise to fame had clearly rattled Yu Junran. This was because Yan Shi’s “scandals” were closely linked to Yu Junran. Past secrets that were meant to stay buried were now at risk of being unearthed due to Yan Shi’s fame. Zhong Yan guessed that Yu Junran’s mind was currently a mess, leaving him with no interest in Xia Meng’s adoration.

As for his eye contact with Tian Jingyu? That was because the two of them were old acquaintances. Tian Jingyu was the third person who knew the truth about those buried secrets.

To be honest, Zhong Yan had expected Yan Shi to become famous, but even she hadn’t anticipated him becoming the Producer of this show. Now that all the parties were gathered in one room, Zhong Yan, ever the spectator, thought to herself: The plot is getting much more interesting.

As the music faded and Dingming Entertainment finished their performance, Yan Shi looked down at the contestant info sheets in his hand.

The production team would mark “priority” contestants and provide suggested questions to help the Producer and mentors give them more screen time. Among the three sheets, Tian Jingyu’s was heavily marked.

Yan Shi didn’t recognize the name or the face. However, during the introductions, he noticed Tian Jingyu’s slightly unnatural avoidance of his gaze and her subtle eye contact with Yu Junran. He suddenly remembered who she was.

Yan Shi looked down. The sheet noted that Tian Jingyu had a solo dance prepared and requested the Producer to “cue” her.

After a brief silence, Yan Shi showed no outward emotion. He began his duties as the Producer, guiding the mentors through their evaluations. However, throughout the entire process, he never cued Tian Jingyu’s solo.

Growing anxious, Tian Jingyu couldn’t help but shoot a glance at Yu Junran. Finally, it was Yu Junran who cued her, allowing her to perform her solo dance.

Normally, the presentation for this group would have ended there. Tian Jingyu didn’t want her teammates to perform solos—especially An Tao. Both she and An Tao were dance specialists from the same group. This solo was meant to cement Tian Jingyu’s status as the “Main Dancer.” If An Tao performed, it would dilute Tian Jingyu’s impact.

Tian Jingyu hoped the mentors would just give the grades and let them leave. But then, Yan Shi unhurriedly picked up his microphone.

“Do the other two trainees have any individual talents they would like to show?”

An Tao, who had prepared a solo dance but thought she had lost her chance, was overjoyed. She immediately raised her hand. With a background in ballet, her solo combined classical technique with idol-style choreography. It was unique and demonstrated deep skill, earning high praise from Dance Mentor Ye Shi, who also had a ballet background.

Xia Meng also performed a short a cappella snippet. Her dancing was behind the others, but her vocal color was excellent. Singing without accompaniment highlighted her voice, earning a positive nod from Vocal Mentor Mu Bin.

By the time all three were finished, Tian Jingyu—who had performed first—seemed far less impressive. Though she kept a smile on her face, she was cursing internally.

The final grades: Tian Jingyu and An Tao received A’s; Xia Meng received a B.

As the Dingming trainees exited, Yan Shi flipped to the next sheet. The next group was a solo trainee: Zhong Yan.

Yan Shi froze for a split second. He was currently very sensitive to those two syllables, even if the characters were different from his “Zhong Yan” (the author). He looked at the sheet again. This contestant was marked as a priority with three stars—one more than Tian Jingyu. She was clearly the “Priority of Priorities.”

A girl with a graceful silhouette walked out from the tunnel and took her place in the center of the stage.

She was dressed simply in a modern, modified white qipao. Her wavy long hair was swept to one side and tied in a loose, lazy braid. The look lent her bright, stunning features a touch of fresh, literary elegance. She looked like a white rose covered in morning dew in a quiet garden at dawn.

In a room full of trainees wearing heavy, elaborate stage makeup, her simple look was a breath of fresh air.

Yan Shi looked up and met her eyes. The girl had “peach blossom” eyes that were slightly upturned at the corners—calm, composed, and graceful. That gaze felt inexplicably familiar to Yan Shi. It felt just like a year ago, when he stood on a terminal audition stage and saw a pair of eyes in the audience that had given him immense courage.

But how was that possible?

Yan Shi mocked himself internally, thinking he was becoming obsessive. The author “Zhong Yan” had such mature writing and vast experience. Furthermore… he had seen rumors online that “Teacher Zhong Yan” was a married woman whose child was already in primary school.

No matter how he looked at it, Yan Shi concluded that the author couldn’t possibly be a girl in her early twenties.

Because Yan Shi had stared for too long without speaking, Mu Bin, sitting beside him, gave him a small nudge. Yan Shi snapped back to reality. He lowered his gaze to break the eye contact and quickly raised his microphone.

“Ahem… please introduce yourself.”

“My apologies, Mentors and Producer,” Zhong Yan said with a slight smile. “May I perform my stage first, and then introduce myself?”

The mentors didn’t know her intention, but they didn’t object. Yan Shi looked at the others for consent and then nodded to her. “You may.”

“Thank you.”

Zhong Yan took her position. Before the music started, Mu Bin checked her file. Her position was listed as “Vocal,” and she hadn’t made any dance preparation moves. It seemed this would be a vocal-heavy performance. Mu Bin sharpened his ears; he was the primary judge for vocals.

As the music started, everyone recognized the melody instantly. It was the song that had played during Yan Shi’s entrance: “Unfailing,” the theme song of Hate the Spring Breeze.

Mu Bin frowned. This wasn’t an easy song to sing. The original singer, Shen Liu, was a male vocalist famous for his gorgeous, ornate high notes. The song was notoriously difficult, with high registers that many female singers couldn’t even reach.

Mu Bin wondered if Zhong Yan had chosen this song just to chase a “trend.” After all, the drama was a massive hit, and the lead actor was sitting right there as the Producer. Regardless, Mu Bin didn’t approve of choosing such a difficult song for an initial evaluation. For a trainee, it was almost impossible to pull off, which usually meant they failed to show their best side.

The arrangement was slightly different from the original. Mu Bin pressed his ear monitor. Instead of the slow, gentle build-up of the original, this version seemed to move the climax to the front.

This girl is bold, Mu Bin thought. She’s going for the hardest part right out of the gate.

Then, Zhong Yan raised her microphone.

The moment she opened her mouth, a clear, ethereal voice—paired with a delicate, effortless high note—drifted through the vast studio like an orchid blooming in a lonely valley.

Mu Bin gasped, reflexively holding his breath.