Chapter 6  The Sixth Day  of Starting a Business

The live audience never expected that Xia Xi, who appeared so poised and spoke with such seriousness, would suddenly blurt out something like this.

Just moments ago, everyone was immersed in the aura of the Celibate Taoist Priest, but now the atmosphere was instantly shattered. Who would have thought the little priest was like this?

Xia Xi herself continued tearing apart her own persona.

After sharing a pack of gummy bears with Zhao Tianqi, she still wasn’t satisfied and promised, “Next time, it’s my treat.”

There would be a next time.

From accomplice to main offender—all in under five minutes.

Xia Xi believed in reciprocity. Since Zhao Tianqi had treated her this time, she would return the favor next.

The show’s recording continued, and during their exchange, all the contestants had already entered one after another.

Zhao Tianqi sitting beside Xia Xi undoubtedly brought her a massive surge of attention. Many had already begun inquiring about Xia Xi, but she had left almost no trace online. Apart from the profile provided by *Pick 101*, everything else was blank.

The two, who now had plenty of screen time, settled in to watch the show after finishing the gummy bears.

Zhao Tianqi was naturally not much of a talker, but her initiative this time had Zhao’s fans in the livestream spamming exclamation marks. Meanwhile, Xia Xi was intently focused on the stage.

Her limited understanding of girl group performances came mostly from the few trainees at her own company. Now, with trainees from all over the country gathered here, Xia Xi was suddenly bombarded with an overwhelming amount of information—street dance, ballet, tap, cha-cha… cute, seductive, fresh and sweet.

The gates of a new world slowly opened before Xia Xi.

Xia Xi: Girl group performances were far more exciting than she had imagined.

Wasn’t this more interesting than raising fish?

Time passed bit by bit, and the quality of the performances varied. The edited version would only showcase the highlights, compressed for time, but the actual recording was much longer.

Some viewers had already left the livestream, and the waiting contestants on-site were growing restless, shifting from nervousness to irritation, their expressions weary. Some stood up now and then to stretch their backs or jump around.

Xia Xi, however, remained motionless, her attention fixed on the stage. A contestant behind her couldn’t help but call out, “Xia Xi, aren’t you tired?”

Caught off guard by the question, Xia Xi, who had been engrossed in the performances, blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

The live chat had an interpretation ready.

**[If I’m not mistaken, that expression means—how could anyone get tired of watching beauties?]**

……

The livestream audience unanimously agreed, chiming in.

**[Damn! This sister’s a genius. I just felt like Xia Xi’s expression looked familiar, and then my screen went dark and I saw my own reflection—exactly the same!]**

**[Yes, yes, that’s the vibe—full of admiration and awe. I’m dying. Did Xia Xi come here as a contestant or an audience member?]**

**[Then I have a theory: she chose Class F because it’s closer to the stage.]**

**[Makes perfect sense!]**

**[Who doesn’t love pretty girls? Especially talented pretty girls. What’s the problem?]**

No problem at all.

The audience’s speculation was spot-on. Xia Xi’s expression perfectly matched the description of someone utterly enchanted by beautiful performances. Some were already eager to turn it into memes.

*Addicted to talent shows, can’t quit.jpg*, *Watching beauties, do not disturb.jpg*.

Xia Xi genuinely didn’t feel tired. This was just sitting—martial arts training was far more exhausting. Weren’t they technically resting right now?

Zhao Tianqi glanced at Xia Xi and pressed her lips together. The contestant behind them had reminded her—she and Xia Xi had been unusually quiet.

Almost everyone was putting on a show, striving for a few reactions or moments that might be edited into the broadcast. Gaining popularity often required multiple approaches, not just relying on stage performances.

Although Zhao Tianqi still intended to rely on her stage performance, Xia Xi could showcase herself in this segment.

Zhao Tianqi leaned closer to Xia Xi and advised her, “Do you want to say something?” She never imagined she’d one day be fussing like a mother hen.

Xia Xi frowned. “Do I have to?”

“Preferably.”

This was unexpected for Xia Xi: I thought we were just here to perform, but now we have to give critiques too?

Suddenly burdened with this responsibility, Xia Xi felt a bit more pressure. The cameraman also focused on her, curious to hear what she would say.

It was clear Xia Xi wasn’t prepared at all, even seeming a bit reluctant, like a child suddenly called upon by their parents to perform. Yet, when she spoke, her words flowed effortlessly.

…

“Her voice is clear and pure, full of emotion—it feels incredibly soothing, like walking through a warm evening breeze in the countryside, with the family dog wagging its tail behind you, smoke rising from distant chimneys, and loved ones calling you home for dinner…”

This was her critique of Chu Sisi’s song.

The other girl had performed an original piece. As Xia Xi finished her comments, Chu Sisi shared her creative inspiration with the mentors—she had grown up with her grandmother in the countryside, and the fields, people, and memories there held deep meaning for her.

“Her movements are powerful and controlled. I love her rhythm—it’s infectious, making you want to join her and dance along.”

This was her take on a contestant’s dance performance.

She might not have been the strongest dancer in the competition, but in terms of energy and appeal, she was definitely among the best, making viewers want to move along with her.

…

When Zhao Tianqi prompted Xia Xi to speak, she expected her to clap and cheer like the other contestants. Instead, Xia Xi delivered such earnest critiques.

She unleashed a continuous stream of Rainbow Farts.

Live viewers also found Xia Xi’s descriptions delightful. Simple cheering would’ve been boring, and the mentors’ technical jargon could sometimes be too esoteric—Xia Xi struck the perfect balance.

[Instead of sitting with the contestants, Xia Xi should be on the mentor panel. I hereby unofficially declare her the off-the-books mentor of *Pick 101*!]

[Her critiques are on point—I was nodding along the whole time.]

Of course, there were dissenting voices too, like, “She talks a big game, but who knows how she’d perform?” But these were quickly drowned out by replies like, “Did an ETC machine gain sentience?”

There were impressive performances and cringe-worthy ones. When three trainees from an entertainment company performed a childish nursery rhyme, even the seasoned mentors couldn’t hide their pained expressions.

Live viewers wondered: How would Xia Xi critique this?

Without changing her expression, Xia Xi commented, “Childlike innocence. Quite amusing.”

!!!

[LMAO, folks, I’m dying. ‘Childlike innocence’—what a genius take.]

[Low EQ: This is kindergarten-level trash. High EQ: Childlike innocence, quite amusing.]

The staff and viewers noticed that Xia Xi seemed friendly and forgiving toward all contestants, rarely saying anything harsh and always finding their strengths.

Most importantly—she was *genuinely* sincere!

“Childlike innocence, quite amusing” seemed to be her honest opinion.

However, during the next group performance, Xia Xi’s smiling expression suddenly changed as she watched the stage. Her smile faded, and she uttered a very soft “Be careful!” under her breath.  

The sound was so faint that even the cameraman closest to her didn’t catch it—only Zhao Tianqi, seated right beside her, heard it. “What’s wrong?”  

Xia Xi hesitated for a second. Since she was only making a prediction, she couldn’t say it outright in front of everyone. Instead, she beckoned Zhao Tianqi closer, instantly closing the distance between them.  

Viewers in the livestream were practically jumping in frustration—*What kind of secret can’t be said in front of us? Why are the girls being so distant? Treat us like family!*  

Xia Xi openly whispered into Zhao Tianqi’s ear, sharing her observation. “The second girl from the left on stage—her balance is off. She might fall.”  

Zhao Tianqi followed Xia Xi’s words and looked toward the stage. The second girl from the left was performing a rather difficult move, appearing completely in control—nothing like someone about to stumble.  

But the next second, everyone gasped.  

Without any warning, the girl performing the high-difficulty move suddenly fell.  

Xia Xi’s prediction had been right.  

Still, Xia Xi relaxed slightly when she saw that the girl wasn’t injured—she even got back up and continued her performance.  

After the contestant came offstage, the on-site medical team checked her over and confirmed she was fine.  

“My turn.”  

Zhao Tianqi stood up, straightening her outfit as she spoke to Xia Xi.  

Xia Xi had also heard the staff call Zhao Tianqi’s name. She could tell Zhao Tianqi wasn’t nervous, so she tilted her head up and extended her hand.  

“Good luck.”  

Zhao Tianqi looked at the outstretched hand, a faint smile flickering across her face before disappearing just as quickly. She reached out and lightly touched it in return.  

“Mm.”  

But after taking only two steps, Zhao Tianqi seemed to remember something and turned back.  

“Later, when I’m on stage… will you praise me like you do with the other contestants?”  

The ribbon tied around Xia Xi’s long hair fluttered in the cold breeze from the central air vent above. Her eyes held a hint of mischief. “I don’t *praise* anyone—I always call it as I see it.”  

So, Zhao Tianqi had better perform well.  

She didn’t finish the sentence, but Xia Xi felt Zhao Tianqi must have understood, because the other girl nodded and said, “Got it.”  

Yet Zhao Tianqi still didn’t leave, voicing another concern. “…But I might not get to hear your comments about me.”  

Their phones had been confiscated, so they wouldn’t be able to watch the show until after leaving the program. Unless something unexpected happened, Zhao Tianqi would be staying until the final episode.  

That reminded Xia Xi—it really was a problem.  

But there was a solution. Xia Xi glanced around before settling on a female staff member covering her mouth in excitement. She made a request.  

“Could you record my comments for me?” Contestants didn’t have phones, but staff did.  

Before she could even finish, the staff member nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes!”  

The cameraman, seeing his job being snatched away, hurriedly interjected, “No need! The director already said—Xia Xi’s comments about you can be specially shown to you. Just focus on your performance.”  

Livestream viewers were truly losing it.  

**[? Something’s wrong with me—lock me in the chicken coop.]**  

**[Damn! I’m shipping them so hard! Tell me I’m not the only one!]**  

**[You’re not alone, ahhhh—I’ve turned into a screaming teakettle. I never dreamed they’d be this good together.]**

Zhao Tianqi wanted Xia Xi’s evaluation, so Xia Xi had the staff record it for her. Isn’t this mutual devotion? Although the show has just begun, I declare Summer CP as the most awesome, YYDS!  

Even the CP name has emerged—Summer.  

……  

Xia Xi was oblivious to this. She was currently admiring Zhao Tianqi’s debut stage performance.  

Zhao Tianqi performed alongside contestants from her company.  

From the moment Zhao Tianqi stepped onto the stage, even with so many others around, all eyes were inevitably drawn to her. In terms of overall skill level within the show, her teammates were average, with some even slightly above average.  

But Zhao Tianqi was simply too strong.  

She moved like a terrifying dancing machine—every motion crisp, precise, landing exactly where it should without the slightest deviation. Her dance had perfect control, tension, and release. What was most astonishing was that it wasn’t just her dancing; her vocals, rap—everything was flawless. While others had strengths and weaknesses, Zhao Tianqi had none.  

She excelled in every aspect, instantly reigniting the nerves of the audience, which had grown lax from fatigue and desensitization.  

The mentors gave her extremely high praise, the entire venue erupted in excitement, and Zhao Tianqi unsurprisingly received an A.  

Xia Xi, watching Zhao Tianqi on stage wiping sweat while glancing her way, gave a thumbs-up and mouthed an eight-word evaluation to the camera—  

“Flawless and breathtakingly magnificent.”  

Anyone who achieves excellence in their field deserves admiration. In Zhao Tianqi, Xia Xi glimpsed the drive and professionalism of an idol. Since she was here now, she needed to strive to match her.  

……  

Not long after Zhao Tianqi’s performance ended, Xia Xi was called away, leaving the two no time to exchange words.  

Most contestants performed in groups, so the few called backstage with Xia Xi to prepare nervously encouraged each other, their hands trembling.  

Staff member: She needed to look after the poor soul performing alone.  

“Xia Xi, don’t worry—”  

The staff member met Xia Xi’s gaze as she sat on the stretching bar, lightly swinging her legs, and realized she probably wasn’t nervous at all.  

Xia Xi didn’t catch it clearly. “Hmm?”  

Staff member: “Never mind.”  

Xia Xi’s mindset was indeed solid. When her turn came, she stepped onto the stage with natural grace. Though she had already made a strong impression in the livestream, the mentors were still relatively unfamiliar with her. As she walked to the center, their reactions were:  

Her visuals are outstanding, but how’s her actual skill?  

Judging by her outfit, it seemed to be traditional-style.  

Curious about Xia Xi’s performance, the mentors simply told her she could begin.  

[Is this the one who only trained for half a month? The fraud?]  

[I’ve been waiting for her debut stage. Clinging to Zhao Tianqi’s coattails won’t help—it all comes down to skill. If she’s weak, it’s all just nonsense.]  

[Don’t say that. What if she’s a production favorite? If she debuts, it’ll slap you in the face.]  

The comments were filled with sarcasm and skepticism.  

Viewers of survival shows despise frauds and slackers—most audiences want genuinely skilled contestants to debut.  

Standing alone on stage, Xia Xi’s posture was straight and poised. Her blue-and-white flowing dress gave her an ethereal, otherworldly aura. The music began—a traditional-style piece, but far from soft. From the very first note, it carried an air of solemn intensity.  

The crisp snap of her folding fan opening landed perfectly on the beat.  

From that moment on, Xia Xi transformed into an unassuming beat-syncing maniac. Her fair fingers flicked the fan with precision, imbuing it with life. Every twist and leap was a fusion of power and beauty.

Contrary to everyone’s expectations of her being a flop, Xia Xi effortlessly executed various high-difficulty moves that other teams would consider ultimate skills—as if they cost nothing.  

The key was that each move was flawlessly connected, full of power, and matched the increasingly fast tempo of the music. Her movements grew quicker and sharper.  

Unstoppable.  

A soaring leap reached an astonishing height.  

Someone in the contestant seats immediately stood up.  

“Holy—can she fly?”  

This was a dance specially choreographed for Xia Xi by the company’s dance instructor—something only she could perform. A fusion of martial arts and classical dance, Xia Xi had mastered every move after rigorous practice.  

A spinning descent made her skirt bloom across the floor like a flower, and in the next second, she stood up without any external support.  

Contestants were baffled. “How did she get up?”  

Her core strength was terrifying!  

As the music slowed, so did the dance. By the end, the entire studio erupted in applause.  

Even the haters in the live chat vanished. Netizens who had been drawn to Xia Xi’s looks or her antics in the contestant seats were stunned.  

*I thought you were bronze, but you’re actually a king?*  

“She’s gotta be in Class A, right?” Two contestants in the front row exchanged glances and spoke in unison.  

Having stirred a mini-climax in the recording, Xia Xi steadied her breathing and waited obediently for the mentors’ feedback.  

After observing from the contestant seats, she had already concluded: they’d either ask about her martial arts or if she had any other talents to showcase.  

She was actually looking forward to the former—the show had a big audience, perfect for some promotion.  

But then, under Xia Xi’s bright-eyed anticipation, the mentor asked, “The director mentioned you gave some great commentary on the contestants’ performances earlier?”  

“How about I give you my seat, and you take over?”  

The speaker was Wan Jun, a critically acclaimed actor and the show’s mood-maker among the mentors. The director had briefly filled them in on Xia Xi’s *Rainbow Fart* moment via earpiece, prompting Wan Jun to crack this joke.  

Xia Xi: ???  

The camera captured her beautiful, utterly bewildered face.  

She weighed her words carefully. “My skills aren’t at the level to sit in the mentor’s seat yet.”  

“Doesn’t matter. Your commentary’s good enough.”  

Wan Jun, lively and playful, seemed genuinely ready to vacate his spot.  

Xia Xi glanced around, searching for the director—only to find him playing along, nodding encouragingly.  

Holding the mic, she said, “The production team didn’t mention this part of the script… I only signed a contestant contract…”  

The audience, with their omniscient view, knew Wan Jun and the crew were just messing with her. They found it hilarious yet pitied the poor girl getting toyed with by these troublemakers.  

Then came Xia Xi’s clear, decisive voice:  

“Gotta pay me extra.”