Chapter 7: A Line Apart

‘Tsk.’

I clicked my tongue inwardly again.

What did she see this time?

What did she know?

I had no idea.

All I knew right now was that I originally just wanted to quietly test a newcomer.

As a result, a white-haired girl was sitting next to me, staring at me the whole time like I was some rare animal.

Fine.

A free audience member; might as well take it.

— Even though I didn’t want it at all.

Chuxue still sat by the window.

Su Nian still held the Notebook from the night we met.

The chirping of birds still drifted in from outside the window from time to time, and the office remained so quiet it was almost frightening.

“Next question.”

I looked at Su Nian.

“You’re backstage at a performance, ten minutes before going on. Your Manager suddenly rushes in and says the artist before you had an accident. Your performance is being moved up, the Warm-up is canceled, and you’re going straight on. But the atmosphere is obviously dead quiet. What do you do?”

‘Well, it’s about as quiet as it is now,’ I added mentally.

Su Nian thought for a moment.

“It should be postponed, or the performance shouldn’t start yet. I’d heat up the atmosphere first!”

After saying that, she looked at me with a somewhat nervous gaze —

But unfortunately, the evaluation and answer I gave were:

“Wrong… There’s nothing wrong with heating up the atmosphere itself, but you shouldn’t speak or postpone. Wouldn’t it be better to just do the Warm-up performance and the formal performance together? Any normal Idol has experienced a Warm-up; it’s a basic skill. In those thirty seconds you postpone, the atmosphere will only get colder.”

Su Nian was stunned.

By the window, Chuxue suddenly spoke:

“But what if today’s condition is bad? What if your voice is hoarse because of back-to-back schedules?”

I turned to look at her, really wanting to say, ‘Why are you joining the fun?’

But I still gave the answer to this additional question.

“Before that, shouldn’t you have checked your own schedule? Even if it was arranged by the Manager, wouldn’t you ask the Manager when you notice something is wrong?”

Chuxue’s expression faltered for a moment.

She quickly regained her composure, but I saw it.

— She was well-protected by her Manager.

She hadn’t experienced the pitfall of a “manager being newer than you.”

I had many “employers,” and I was completely different from her.

However, this did prove one thing: Chuxue was experienced and confident on stage, but in many areas, she was still within the range of a newcomer.

“Miss Chuxue, please focus on your visit.”

My tone grew colder, the warning heavier than ever.

Because Su Nian’s test could not be compromised.

However, I began to allow certain information to be seen by Chuxue, and I began to observe her in return.

The relationship between the hunter and the prey could flip at any time — she didn’t seem to understand this rule yet.

“Next question.”

I turned back to Su Nian.

“It’s your turn to go on stage, but the atmosphere from the previous act is still frantic. The audience is still shouting the previous person’s name. As soon as you step on stage, many people in the crowd shout ‘Get off!’ — what do you do then?”

Su Nian thought longer this time.

She answered, “Continue singing and finish the song. For the second song, I’d change it to a slow one, or a song everyone has heard. Let the song speak. If that still doesn’t work, I’d bow and leave the stage — if it’s not my crowd, I won’t force it.”

I stared at her and blinked.

“How is it not your crowd?”

She opened her mouth.

“According to the schedule, it’s your crowd,” I said.

“Why wouldn’t you just run to the other side of the stage, grab the person who’s trying to leave, and perform together? Because many people are still shouting her name, right?”

“Why wouldn’t you ask her directly: ‘Isn’t it your failure as an Idol to not satisfy the audience?'”

I paused and didn’t continue —

Because someone had done that before, and that person later became a legend.

Su Nian’s eyes widened.

“That’s how it should be,” I said.

“It’s not your problem; don’t take the blame unnecessarily.”

She lowered her head and didn’t speak.

But I knew she was taking notes.

By the window, Chuxue’s expression changed too.

That composure began to loosen.

— She seemed to have never thought about these realistic perspectives.

I hesitated slightly; she might not be as formidable as I had imagined.

“Next question.”

I didn’t give Su Nian a chance to breathe.

“You have a habitual movement: every chorus, you turn to the right and wave to the audience on the right. But today, there’s a large empty patch there — those are seats reserved for a Sponsor who didn’t show up. You wave to the air, and the atmosphere on-site is a bit awkward. What do you do?”

Su Nian looked up.

“I’d say to that row of empty seats: ‘The Sponsor didn’t come, so I’ll wave for them.’ Then I’d clap for myself.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Not bad.”

Her eyes lit up.

By the window, Chuxue also gave a light chuckle.

“However — ”

I said, “why not just continue waving in a circle? Change the movement on the fly and find a timing to transition back. After all, it’s a habitual movement, which means it’s a song you’re familiar with, right?”

Su Nian’s gaze darkened again.

This was the best evaluation Su Nian had received so far, yet I still pointed out the deficiencies without mercy.

This time, it seemed even Chuxue, who had been observing, couldn’t take it anymore.

“Um… President Lin, isn’t this too harsh?”

I didn’t answer and looked back at her with cold eyes.

She said no more.

— But she began to size me up with a different look.

I realized I might have exposed something again.

But it didn’t matter; it was within tolerable limits.

“Next question. You’re on stage with a junior, singing a song that requires interaction. It was fine during rehearsals, but during the official performance, she forgets everything because of nerves and stands there motionless. What do you do?”

“Keep dancing and carry her part as well!”

“How can you carry a two-person dance by yourself?”

Su Nian was at a loss for words.

She looked like she was about to cry.

“You should walk straight over, grab her hand, and start a big spin or some other large movement,” I said.

“Small mistakes in large movements aren’t obvious. The junior is just nervous, not a mannequin. Making her enter the flow directly is more effective than a reminder.”

But she didn’t cry in the end; she only nodded.

Chuxue was frowning.

‘Could it be… she’s applying these questions to herself?’

I suddenly thought.

“Next question. During a Variety Show, the production team agreed on relaxed chatting and authentic reactions. But the first question is — ‘I heard you got to the top because of your looks; is that true?’ The camera is right in your face. What do you do?”

This time, someone snatched the answer.

“Respond directly — ‘It’s true, so I’m seeing if I can use my face to go up another level.’ Sting them back.”

It was Chuxue.

She sat by the window, the sunlight shining from behind her, making her snow-white hair glow.

The expression on her face was provocative.

I looked at her.

My vigilance wasn’t as tight anymore.

Because she was currently trying to “regain the initiative” — meaning she had lost it just now.

This confirmed my guess: she wasn’t as strong as I thought.

She might have even run out behind her Manager’s back.

But I still didn’t know what she really wanted.

“Not bad,” I said faintly.

Chuxue tilted her chin up.

But I shifted my focus to Su Nian.

“And you?”

Su Nian hesitated for a moment.

“… But if it’s supposed to be an authentic reaction, then… I might say I don’t know. Because I really haven’t thought about that question.”

I looked at her; this might have been the longest silence so far.

It was also the only response that exceeded my “wrong” and standard answers.

“… For you,” I said, “it’s correct.”

She was stunned for a moment, not understanding.

But she smiled, quite happily.

Chuxue understood.

Her smile vanished, and her brow furrowed deeper.

She knew the answer was right, but she didn’t seem to know why.

“Next question,” I continued.

“Your fans and the fans of another Idol get into an argument, which becomes more and more intense until it looks like they’re going to fight. Furthermore, the people arguing for you are doing things that go against your values in your name. What do you do?”

Su Nian answered very quickly this time.

“Say directly that they aren’t my fans!”

“Essentially correct,” I said.

“But being too direct will lead to misunderstandings and leave a trail for people to use against you. You should first understand why they are arguing. If it’s truly for your sake, stepping in to persuade them usually works. But if they’re just doing it for their own gain and intentionally using your name — “

I paused.

“You should point it out bluntly: ‘These people are thieves using my fame as an excuse.'”

Su Nian’s emotions gradually stabilized; she was just taking notes this time.

Chuxue’s eyes narrowed.

Her expression was no longer relaxed; it became serious.

I knew she had been dragged into the scenarios I set.

I was watching them both.

Gradually, I was putting forth my full effort.

“Final question.”

I looked at the two of them.

“You’ve been debuted for three years and finally won your first individual award. While accepting the award, you thank the company, the fans, and your parents. But then, someone on stage suddenly tells you: ever since you appeared, the ratings have started to drop significantly. What do you do?”

Su Nian didn’t answer.

Silence.

A long silence.

It was completely different from before.

Unlike before, this seemed to trigger a painful point for her.

Through her wavering eyes, I immediately guessed what she was thinking —

Because up until now, she hadn’t received more than one “good performance” from me.

This simulation of the “future” was too much like a mirror of the “present.”

‘Tsk.’

I clicked my tongue again.

All my questions were thought up on the spot; I didn’t expect to hit this nerve.

Finally, under my and Chuxue’s gaze, Su Nian was about to speak.

“That Notebook, are you still keeping notes?”

But I immediately interrupted her.

Su Nian was stunned.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Her body swayed slightly.

The Notebook slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a muffled thud.

I looked at her.

Her lips were still moving, but she couldn’t make a sound.

Chuxue stood up, wanting to reach out, but stopped.

The only sound left in the office was breathing — hurried, broken, like someone drowning.

The atmosphere grew even tighter.

Chuxue gripped the hem of her clothes, her knuckles turning white.

Her eyes were fixed on Su Nian, then moved to me, then back to Su Nian.

For the first time, a look of bewilderment appeared on that face.

She was watching a play she couldn’t understand.

— But she took out her phone.

The screen lit up.

I caught a glimpse of her recording.

‘ — Are you crazy!?’

I was certain she didn’t know why, just instinct.

But I really couldn’t bother with her anymore; I stared intently into Su Nian’s eyes.

‘ … Just, one more bit!’

‘That… Notebook?’

As soon as the words fell.

— The images exploded in Su Nian’s mind.

That night.

The piece of candy after the performance ended that night.

The hand writing and drawing in her Notebook.

Among a row of “checkmarks,” the only one —

Such a conspicuous “X.”

Notebook… X?

[Belief (X)] — The ‘heart’ has been broken; there is no more possibility.

That line of text.

That piece of information.

WHY?

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?!!

THINK!!!

SU NIAN!!!