Chapter 39: Rehearsal

Starry Little Theater.

It was 3:00 PM.

The house lights were off, and only a few work lights on the stage were lit.

The pale light shone down from above, cutting several irregular pools of light onto the floor.

Su Nian stood in the center of the stage.

She was dressed in a tracksuit—she hadn’t brought her performance costume today, as she was only here to test the venue.

She stood there, not knowing what to do with her hands.

She looked left, then right.

She looked at the lighting rig above her and the stage floor beneath her feet.

“…It’s so big.”

Her voice was soft, yet it carried far in the empty venue.

Xiao Xi crouched at the edge of the stage, hugging her knees as she looked down.

From this angle, Su Nian looked like she was standing inside a giant box.

Chuxue stood in the third row of the audience, holding her cup of black tea—she had indeed brought it inside.

She didn’t sit; she just stood there, watching the stage.

Shen Wei crouched next to Xiao Xi, also looking down at the stage.

After two seconds, she turned her head.

“Xiao Xi, why do you always crouch like that?”

“…I’m used to it.”

Shen Wei blinked and didn’t ask further.

“Just dance.”

I spoke up.

Su Nian turned her head to look at me.

“Huh?”

“Just dance. Whatever you’ve been practicing, just dance a segment.”

She was stunned.

“Dance… dance what…”

“Anything. Dance whatever comes to mind.”

She stood there, at a loss.

She raised her hands, then lowered them.

She took a half-step forward, then retracted it.

I walked to the last row of the audience and leaned against the wall.

I watched the person on stage.

Below the stage, the staff members were adjusting the equipment.

The lighting technician sat at the control console, his fingers sliding across the panel.

The sound engineer wore headphones, saying a few words into a microphone.

The stage supervisor stood in the wings, holding a walkie-talkie, glancing at the stage from time to time.

They were all waiting.

Waiting for the girl standing on stage to dance something.

Su Nian took a deep breath.

She raised her hand.

In the first second, I recognized it—it was Alice’s dance.

It was the movement from the chorus of the debut song.

Raise the hand, turn, and strike a pose.

She wasn’t doing… a bad job.

The height of her hand was correct.

The angle of her turn was correct.

When she struck the pose, her eyes looked toward the seats—that position should have been the exact center of the audience.

But it looked…

How should I put it?

“It’s a bit strange,” Shen Wei whispered.

Xiao Xi turned to look at her.

“Strange?”

“Yes.”

Shen Wei nodded.

“The movements are all correct… but it’s just… strange.”

I didn’t say anything.

I kept watching.

Su Nian continued to dance on stage.

Raise hand.

Turn.

Strike a pose.

Raise hand.

Turn.

Strike a pose.

She performed every movement earnestly.

Sweat slid down from her forehead, but she didn’t stop.

However—

She was too tall.

Alice’s dance had many movements designed for a specific height.

The height of the hand raises, the range of the turns, the angle of the body’s tilt during a pose—they were all based on a height of around 5 feet.

Su Nian was much taller than Alice.

Much taller, nearly 5 feet 7 inches.

When she performed the same hand raise, the angle changed.

When she performed the same turn, the range became too wide.

When she struck the same pose, at the moment her body tilted, her center of gravity shifted half an inch too far to the right.

It wasn’t a mistake.

It was simply wrong.

She continued to dance.

When she reached the second part of the chorus, there was a move where she had to spin in place and then draw a circle with both hands in front of her chest, making a gesture as if something were “overflowing.”

When Alice did this move, it was cute.

Small and round, like a piece of candy.

When Su Nian did this move—

“She looks… like she’s herding sheep,” Shen Wei whispered again.

Xiao Xi couldn’t help it and let out a soft snort of laughter.

Su Nian, on stage, didn’t hear them.

She was still dancing.

After finishing the last segment, she stopped.

She was panting.

Sweat dripped from her chin.

She looked at the audience, looking at us.

Her eyes asked:

“How was it?”

Silence reigned for three seconds.

I spoke.

“Continue.”

She was stunned.

“Con… continue?”

“Yes. Just dance. Change to a different segment.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then turned back.

She continued to dance.

This time she switched to another song.

It was another one of Alice’s songs, one with a slower tempo.

She danced very seriously.

When she raised her hand, her wrist lifted upward.

When she turned, her heels moved first.

When she struck a pose, her eyes looked forward—toward the “audience.”

But—

It was still wrong.

The movements were too “full.”

Alice’s slow songs were meant to be “reserved.”

The movements weren’t large, but every action had a lingering resonance.

When raising a hand, the hand would pause in the air for a moment before coming down.

When turning, at the instant the skirt fluttered up, there would be a very slight pause.

Su Nian didn’t have that.

When she raised her hand, she simply raised her hand.

When she turned, she simply turned.

When she struck a pose, she simply struck a pose.

The movements were all correct.

But that “lingering resonance” was missing.

I watched.

The staff were also watching.

The movements of the lighting technician’s hands slowed down.

The sound engineer took off one side of his headphones.

The stage supervisor stood in the wings, no longer speaking.

They all watched the person on the stage.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

During the fourth time, Su Nian stopped.

She braced her hands on her knees, gasping for air.

Her physical strength was starting to fail.

Her foundation was still too poor, with only twenty days of practice.

“President…”

Her voice was intermittent.

“Am… am I…”

“Continue.”

She didn’t ask again.

She turned back.

She continued to dance.

The fifth time.

Her movements began to lose their form.

The sixth time.

The seventh time.

The eighth time.

By the ninth time, she finally finished the dance and sat directly down on the stage.

She stretched her legs out, propped her hands behind her, and tilted her head back to gasp for air.

Sweat covered her face.

Xiao Xi whispered from below the stage.

“Sister Su Nian… looks so tired…”

Shen Wei nodded.

“Yes. But she danced nine times.”

Chuxue didn’t speak.

She just looked at the person on stage, watching the girl sitting in the middle of the stage, panting.

I walked down from the audience seats.

Step by step, I reached the edge of the stage.

I crouched down.

I met her eyes at her level.

She looked at me.

There was something in those dark red eyes.

Exhaustion.

And something else.

“Do you know where the problem is?”

She thought for a long time.

“…I don’t look like her.”

“Don’t look like what?”

“I don’t look like… Alice.”

I looked at her.

She looked at me as well.

Three seconds later.

“Wrong.”

She was stunned.

“Huh?”

“The problem isn’t whether you look like Alice. You aren’t Alice to begin with.”

I leaned in closer.

“The problem is that you don’t know who you are. You are you. I remember that besides Alice’s performances, I also showed you others—the Flame Fairy, the Moonlight Poet, the Tide Singer…”

As it turned out, she had been staring at the Gemstone Princess the entire time—just as I had suspected.

She sat there, looking at me.

She didn’t speak.

I turned and walked back toward the audience.

After taking two steps, I stopped.

I looked back.

“Those staff members just now—what do you think of them?”

She blinked.

“They are… very professional.”

“Yes.”

I continued walking.

When I reached the middle of the audience seats, I stopped again.

“I spent 150,000 to hire them.”

Su Nian was stunned.

“150… 150,000?”

“Yes. That includes the venue, the equipment, and them.”

I pointed at the lighting technician, the sound engineer, and the stage supervisor.

“For the past few days, I made them relearn how to do their jobs.”

The lighting technician looked up and glanced at me.

He didn’t say anything and looked back down.

The sound engineer let out a brief smile before quickly suppressing it.

The stage supervisor stood in place, his expression complicated.

“Do you know what they’re thinking right now?”

Su Nian shook her head.

“They’re thinking,” I said, “whether this newcomer brought by the fool who spent 150,000 is actually any good.”

Silence.

The entire venue went silent.

There was no concealment, no ambiguity, no excuses, and no social niceties—only the facts.

Only the humming of the work lights remained.

Su Nian sat on the stage, looking at me.

In those dark red eyes, there was another flicker, uncontrollable and intense.

But after a long time.

She finally spoke.

Her voice was very small.

“…I am.”

“What?”

“I’m good enough.”

She stood up.

She stood in the center of the stage.

The lights shone down from above, casting a small shadow on the floor.

She looked at the audience, at the staff members, at Chuxue, at Xiao Xi, at Shen Wei, and finally, she looked at me.

“I’m good enough,” she said again.

Her voice was slightly louder than before.

I looked at her.

Three seconds later.

“Continue.”

She nodded.

She turned back.

She raised her hand.

The tenth time.

The dance she performed was no longer Alice’s dance.

It was something else.

The height of her hand raise was a bit lower than before.

The range of her turn was a bit smaller.

When she struck a pose, her eyes didn’t look at the “center of the audience”; they looked at the “third row on the left”—the place where Shen Wei was crouching.

It wasn’t necessarily beautiful, and one could even see the traces of different styles being stitched together.

But it wasn’t Alice’s.

I watched.

The staff were also watching.

The lighting technician’s hands began to move again—the spotlight followed her, a bit slower than before, but also more accurate.

The sound engineer put his headphones back on and said something into the microphone.

The stage supervisor stood in the wings, his walkie-talkie no longer raised.

She finished the dance.

She stopped.

She panted.

Sweat dripped from her chin.

But this time, she didn’t ask “How was it?”

She just stood there.

And then—

“Mm.”

***

Evening.

The agency.

The lights in the training room were on.

Su Nian sat on the floor, clutching her water bottle.

She didn’t have the energy to shout today; she just sat there, staring blankly.

Xiao Xi crouched next to her, glancing at her every now and then.

Chuxue leaned against the wall, holding her black tea.

On the sofa, I recalled the figure on the stage—Su Nian’s figure.

Although her dancing still wasn’t great, what she hadn’t realized was—

She had thought about the 800-person venue, yet she hadn’t been nervous at all.

For someone who had trained for less than twenty days, that was already quite impressive.

‘It’s time.’

What came next was actually the process of fine-tuning.

The lights in my room were very dim.

Only one lamp was on, emitting a faint glow.

‘It’s time to prepare the song.’

I then took out my phone.

Beep—