IDEI Ch13

Qi Yanning had no desire to waste another thought on this obsessed stylist. He nodded toward Director Lin, signaling that Lin could take full charge of handling it.

“Qi Yanning! Admit it, you can’t compare to that master! Oh, I forgot, you came from that show too, so you must have seen that master…” Lin He completely threw caution to the wind. His eyes bloodshot, he glared straight at Qi Yanning.

Lin He was consumed with pure jealousy. Qi Yanning, an idol with awful performance skills, had somehow parachuted into the production to become the de facto leader of the styling team.

If Qi Yanning’s ability had failed to match his position, Lin He might still have kept his jealousy under wraps. But Qi Yanning possessed skills that even left him in awe.

How could that be? A veteran who had been in the industry for seven or eight years was somehow outdone by an amateur who had switched careers halfway and was clumsy with makeup application?

Yet at this moment, he actually let out a laugh dripping with malice and schadenfreude. “Since you saw him, did you feel the night-and-day difference between the two of you?”

Hearing this, Qi Yanning’s narrow eyes swept over his flushed, rage-filled face with faint amusement. He twirled a stray lock of hair by his cheek with an index finger, then glanced back toward Director Lin.

In his past life, a petty, shadowy figure like this wouldn’t have required the Chief Grand Eunuch of the Bureau of Imperial Attire to handle in person.

Director Lin gave a light cough, his expression turning thoroughly sour.

Just as he was about to speak, a woman’s voice cut in.

“Wait…” The voice carried anger and confusion. “The look you’re talking about is Pei Huan’s from Ou Jin‘s second performance, right? Qi-ge did that one too.”

The room plunged into dead silence.

The stylists and assistants who had known nothing about this stared at Qi Yanning in shock, while Director Lin’s eyes narrowed, his anger morphing into sheer delight.

Even Li Qing lifted his head, gazing at Qi Yanning with astonishment.

The person who found this hardest to swallow was Lin He.

His eyes looked ready to split open. “Impossible!”

How was that possible? That brilliant look he had secretly studied and analyzed for so long had come from Qi Yanning’s hands as well?

He refused to believe it, yet a wave of dread submerged him.

His mind raced: Pei Huan’s viral styling happened during the second performance, the day before Idol Evolution officially announced Qi Yanning’s withdrawal. Ever since Qi Yanning left, though Pei Huan’s styling maintained a similar aesthetic, it never achieved that initial level of brilliance.

Lin He had even privately lamented that drop in quality back then.

He clawed at his hair in frenzy, tangling his styled locks into a bird’s nest.

“Lin He, you leave as well,” Director Lin’s voice rang out.

Lin He flinched in terror and looked up at Qi Yanning. The envy and defiance in his eyes were entirely gone, replaced by utter despair.

He spoke hesitantly, “Qi Yanning, no, Master, could you…”

His voice trailed off beneath Qi Yanning’s ambiguous half-smile.

What had he done? If jealousy hadn’t clouded his mind, he would have had the chance to learn alongside Qi Yanning.

From observing over this past period, he knew Qi Yanning held nothing back when teaching the styling assistants, and never hoarded knowledge when other stylists asked questions.

Such a golden opportunity…

He had severed a wide, bright path with his own hands, choosing a dead end instead.

Lin He slumped to his knees, letting out muffled, despairing sobs.

After a long time, he looked up at Qi Yanning once more, his eyes even redder. “Qi-ge, Qi-ge, please give me another chance! I beg you, Qi-ge…”

Growing agitated, he even moved to lunge forward and grab Qi Yanning.

Seeing this, Li Qing’s face flushed with embarrassment. He stepped forward, grabbed Lin He, and snapped sternly, “What are you doing? Save yourself some dignity!”

With that, he nodded to Director Lin and Qi Yanning, dragging the struggling Lin He away with rapid strides.

The atmosphere in the room finally settled back to normal, and the remaining stylists crowded around with curiosity.

“Qi-ge, did you really do Pei Huan’s look too?”

Qi Yanning shook his head.

The others were caught off guard.

“The overall look was done by the show’s stylists. I only added some blush and ribbon details,” Qi Yanning said evenly.

The others exchanged looks, their appreciation of Qi Yanning’s skills deepening even further.

Modifying an existing look was far more difficult than creating one from scratch. To completely transform Pei Huan’s aura using just a few simple touches on top of a finished look took extraordinary talent.

Their attitude toward Qi Yanning grew noticeably warmer and more respectful.

Qi Yanning sensed the shift, but offered only a faint smile without comment.

Having settled the matter, Director Lin left the office. As the director, he had a mountain of tasks to handle. He had only carved out time for this because Xiao Yingyi’s injury had caused a stir, and because…

He glanced at Qi Yanning, who sat poised on the sofa, listening calmly as the assistants chattered about their takeaways from the couture shows.

Noticing Director Lin’s gaze, Qi Yanning tilted his head slightly to meet his eyes.

His gaze was filled with calm composure, as if everything was within his grasp. That poise instantly soothed Director Lin’s lingering restlessness.

Director Lin offered Qi Yanning a warm, benevolent smile and strode out.

Qi Yanning curled his lips slightly. Then, lifting a hand, he tapped his knuckles against Wu Jianming’s forehead.

“Why are you spacing out? Didn’t notice you made a mistake here?”

Under Qi Yanning’s quiet yet imposing stare, Wu Jianming swallowed hard.

Not daring to drift off again, he resumed his analysis.

The show has a god-tier stylist!

The news spread like wildfire among the trainees.

In truth, they had realized it ever since seeing the other groups’ styling yesterday. Or rather, ever since the reshoot of the theme song MV, when the styling quality took a massive leap.

Back then, they assumed the entire styling team had been upgraded. Only during the dress rehearsal for the first performance did they realize the upgrade came down to a single person.

This stylist had chosen the outfits for the theme song and crafted viral looks for Xiao Yingyi and Pang Nong. Then, during the first stage, he gave “Dark Age” a brilliant concept and unlocked the look best suited to Wei Mingzhe.

The trainees yearned to work with such a miraculous figure.

“I wonder if it’ll be my turn to have Teacher Qi style me next time. I’m so excited!”

“Totally. Teacher Qi is on another level.”

“If he’s this skilled, why did he become a trainee and join a survival show in the first place?”

“Maybe he wanted to see the idol industry up close? Or maybe he just liked being a trainee. You know how geniuses always have weird quirks.”

In a practice room, two trainees whispered among themselves.

A full day had passed since the first performance ended, and they had just completed the song selection for the second public stage.

The second performance was a position evaluation. Trainees chose vocal, dance, or rap categories based on their strengths or aspirations to build collaborative stages.

In the practice room for the dance track Lost in Your Eyes, a practice session had just wrapped up, and the trainees sat in a circle drenched in sweat. They had just finished breaking down the choreography. Group leader Feng Qingyi, a top-tier dancer on the show, was going over technical details with the team.

Lost in Your Eyes was a jazz-influenced track with a mature, sultry style. It featured sharp focal points alongside fluid body waves that tested rhythmic control. While the movements weren’t violently aggressive, the technical difficulty was high.

More importantly, not everyone was suited for a sensual dance style.

“Stop chatting, you two,” Feng Qingyi said, glancing at the two whispering trainees. Once they went quiet, he turned to Mo Jinghai. “A-Hai! What are you spacing out for again?”

Mo Jinghai snapped back to attention and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Looking at his earnest expression, Feng Qingyi hesitated, then let out a sigh.

He wrapped up the key dance notes in a few sentences and clapped his hands. “Alright, that’s enough for today. We’ll resume tomorrow morning!”

The trainees, who had been up since dawn, were running on fumes. Relieved, they stood up and left one by one.

All except Mo Jinghai.

“A-Hai, not heading back to rest?” Feng Qingyi paused, turning back.

“I’ll practice a bit longer,” Mo Jinghai said softly. “Go on ahead and rest. Put your jacket on, the night wind is cold and you’re covered in sweat. Don’t catch a cold.”

Hearing him fuss like this, Feng Qingyi sighed again.

A-Hai was the kindest, softest person he knew, thoughtful toward everyone around him, yet when it came to himself…

“A-Hai,” Feng Qingyi said suddenly. “Don’t worry. There will always be a way forward.”

Mo Jinghai looked up in mild surprise. Then, he cracked a smile, offering a noncommittal response. “Go rest, your health isn’t great to begin with.”

Feng Qingyi looked at him deeply, but had no choice but to leave.

Mo Jinghai sat in silence for a while before quietly pulling himself up. Pulling his baseball cap down over his head, he adjusted the music volume so only he could hear it, and began drilling in front of the mirror.

His movements were full of raw exertion. His fitted short-sleeve shirt outlined well-developed muscles, while the cap covered his medium-length hair, accentuating his sharp, chiseled facial structure.

He danced tirelessly to the music, venting all his bottled-up emotions into the choreography.

He lost track of how long the music played, stopping only when his foot slipped on a patch of sweat and he crashed heavily to the floor.

Draping a sweaty arm over his eyes, hot breath poured from his lips. In the quiet studio, faint, stifled sobs broke through.

Feng Qingyi said there would always be a way, but he was nearing his breaking point.

He and Feng Qingyi had refused to tolerate shady dealings at their agency, making them thorns in the company’s side. Despite their exceptional skills, they had been written off.

Later, they were sent to audition for this show merely as disposable filler to accompany the agency’s favored “crown prince.” The crown prince failed to make the cut, while the two of them were accepted into the cast.

Enraged, the crown prince had snarled at them: “You’d better pray you survive a few rounds, because once you come back to the company, you’ll suffer for this!”

He knew exactly what awaited him back at the agency. Just like before, they would shelve him and deny him exposure. Bound by an exploitative contract, he would receive a meager trainee stipend while watching his fleeting youth waste away.

It was the path he had chosen, and he had been willing to bear the consequences.

Yet…

Recently, his grandmother had fallen critically ill, and as her favorite grandson, he couldn’t scrape together a single cent for her medical bills.

Guilt had battered his heart relentlessly day in and day out.

He had masked it well, until today, when his total inability to connect with the dance style shattered his final emotional defenses.

Maybe he should just give up.

A fellow former trainee had repeatedly invited him to teach at his dance studio, offering a monthly salary several times higher than his trainee stipend.

He had refused out of pride and ambition back then.

Perhaps it was time to let go of this unrealistic dream.

“Why haven’t you gone back to rest?”

A somewhat relaxed voice sounded from the doorway.

Mo Jinghai lowered the arm covering his eyes and squinted toward the entrance.

A tall, slender silhouette stood framed in the doorway. Bright light from the hallway obscured the person’s face, casting a long shadow into the dimly lit practice room.

Like a hand reaching out to Mo Jinghai in the dark.