Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 117
After all the contestants settled into their dormitories, nearly everyone shared the same thought as Tu Zhu and his roommates—the moment they finished unpacking, they dashed straight to the dance practice room.
Even those who hadn’t initially considered this idea couldn’t resist joining the rush when they saw others heading there, thinking, If everyone’s going and I don’t, won’t I fall behind? And so, the frenzy spread.
Six hundred contestants sprinting towards the same location, while a drone camera captured the scene for a live broadcast set to rousing, high-pitched BGM—it had viewers watching the livestream in stitches.
Those watching on TV managed to keep their composure, but those on computers or phones scrolling through the live chat saw the screen flooded with: 【HAHAHAHAHA】
【Holy moly, this angle—it’s like a zombie apocalypse!】
【No idea why, but I’m laughing so hard I’m rolling around on my bed】
【Why does this BGM make it even funnier? That male vocalist is killing me】
【LMAO, they look like chickens hearing the dinner bell at a poultry farm】
【My grandma raises chickens—can confirm, this is EXACTLY how they act at feeding time】
【HAHAHAHA how did they make this both visually stunning and hilarious?】
Sheng Quan was also watching the livestream, laughing along with the audience while checking the viewership numbers across platforms for Guoxinghai.
—It was higher than expected.
Like most talent shows, Guoxinghai opted for a format of 24/7 live broadcasting during filming, followed by edited recorded episodes.
The advantage of this model was that it offered viewers an abundance of footage, maximizing the potential to attract new audiences.
However, livestreams lacked the polish of recordings, often including mundane, trivial moments that viewers might find unnecessary.
Even if the director worked hard to select the most entertaining clips, with 24 hours of footage, there were bound to be dull stretches—and that was when viewers would quietly drop off.
Yet, clearly, Guoxinghai was managing to retain its high viewership because audiences found it worth sticking around for.
On forums, a thread explaining the pros and cons of livestreaming in talent shows had many users happily sharing their joy in following Guoxinghai.
The top-voted comment perfectly captured the sentiment of the show’s fans:
【First, every contestant is drop-dead gorgeous, each with their own unique charm and zero bad angles. No matter where the camera points, they’re all ridiculously good-looking—how could I possibly look away?
I know focusing on looks sounds shallow, but they’re future idols! What else am I supposed to judge them on?
Second, although each contestant only performed for a minute, their dancing was dazzling. I'm no expert, so I can't give a professional critique, but if other shows are about picking the tallest dwarf, Guoxinghai is a room full of supermodels vying for the top spot.
And third—its daily content is NEVER boring!
Past talent shows’ livestreams just recycled the same old stuff, so of course viewers got bored. Guoxinghai is different. It’s only been three days, but every single minute has been worth watching!
Just seeing these beautiful people introduce themselves and interact is pure entertainment. Don’t you think a group of stunning men and women together is inherently enjoyable?
Even without performances right now, watching them scramble like chickens is hilarious.
Plus, you can tell the production team has gone all out—even their downtime is filmed with care.
If I didn't have to work, I'd binge this nonstop! Oh, mighty CEO Sheng, Goddess of Entertainment! Bless Guoxinghai to maintain this quality and give us many more episodes! Don't let it end too soon!
Sheng Quan, who had been browsing the forum and only saw the last line after liking the post: ?
Goddess of Entertainment?
So cringey… but she liked it.
The Goddess of Entertainment, CEO Sheng, couldn’t promise more episodes, but she could offer fans some extra perks.
For instance, right now, these contestants—whose average age was around nineteen and a half—had been asked to remove their makeup.
At that age, their skin was naturally flawless, and without makeup, they exuded a fresh, clean-cut beauty distinct from their stage personas.
A few even looked better bare-faced, instantly gaining a wave of fans obsessed with their looks.
Because the show didn’t require full makeup at all times, most of these lively young contestants felt free to sprint like Olympians without worrying about sweat ruining their looks.
This also worked in the show’s favor—as a voting-based program, the more “real” the contestants appeared, the more invested the audience became.
Tu Zhu, however, wasn’t the lively type.
He’d originally planned to walk at his own pace, but before he knew it, his three kind-hearted roommates had hoisted him into a full-speed dash.
As they ran, they cheered, “Don’t worry, Tu Zhu! If you’re slow, we’ll carry you!”
Tu Zhu, feet instinctively hitting the ground mid-air as he was dragged along: “……” freёnovelkiss.com
He didn’t even get a chance to explain before the three speedsters hauled him to the destination.
When the contestants finally reached the dance practice room the cameraman had directed them to, they froze at the sight of the massive building before them.
The viewers were equally stunned.
This is a dance practice room?
More like a dance practice palace!
“That’s right. This building is indeed called the Dance Practice Palace.”
The contestants, hesitating at the entrance, jumped at the sudden voice.
“Who said that?!”
The camera panned toward the palace’s grand doors as a melodic flute played. Then, a pair of ancient-style boots stepped over the threshold with dramatic flair.
The next moment, everyone saw a figure clad in a black-and-gold embroidered cloak, crowned with a jade-white hairpiece, standing tall and regal—
—only for the camera to reveal… a giant lobster.
Contestants: “……”
Viewers: “……”
Instantly, the screen exploded with 【HAHAHAHAHA】.
【A LOBSTER. I CAN’T—】
【The camera work is genius—first the expensive-looking hairpiece, then the lavish robes, and BAM. Lobster.】
【HAHAHAHA the production team really knows how to play us】
The man in the lobster costume, utterly unfazed by the contestants’ stunned laughter, spoke in a deep, magnetic voice from inside the headpiece:
“I am the Dance Palace Master. You may call me… the Dance Lord.”
“Here in Guoxinghai, dance practice is no simple matter. A true dancer must not only possess formidable skill but also the ability to appreciate their peers.”
While the contestants were still processing this, the viewers had already caught on.
Oho! Is this where the nominations begin?!
Sure enough, the Dance Lord continued:
“Each of you will receive a sheet of paper and a pen. Based on everyone’s one-minute performances earlier, you must all select the contestant you believe danced the best.”
After a pause, he added, "Of course, you can't vote for yourself."
The contestants who had been listening quietly burst into laughter, instantly lightening the atmosphere.
The waiting staff quickly stepped forward to distribute paper and pens, their movements swift and efficient.
Speed—this was the most common state for the staff of Guoxinghai, as they were always swamped with work. Precisely because the current situation was so promising, they strived for even greater precision.
Of course, with bonuses dangling ahead, a little extra effort was well worth it.
The contestants either whispered among themselves or pondered deeply, but eventually, they all wrote down names on their papers.
[Based on my experience, the contestant with the most votes should get an extra reward.]
[Who is it, who is it, who is it?!]
[Among the female contestants, I think it’ll be Ge Ling! When Ge Ling dances on stage, she’s as beautiful as a fairy.]
[I think among the male contestants, it’ll be Jin Yuan from P Country—he’s so famous, and his stage presence is explosive. If I were a contestant, I’d definitely vote for him.]
[Am I the only one who thinks Tu Zhu danced really well? His expressiveness was absolutely stunning.]
[Tu Zhu really is surprising. I always thought he lacked ability.]
[It probably won’t be Tu Zhu—his reputation is so bad.]
[Ahhhh, rooting for my favorite!]
While the dance host tallied the votes… honestly, it was no small task. Six hundred people meant six hundred votes, even if separated by gender.
Fortunately, he had helpers—a group of children around ten years old, wearing little lobster headgear with their tiny faces peeking out.
The adorable outfits briefly distracted the barrage of comments, shifting to exclamations like:
["Aww, these kids are so cute!"], ["Is the production team hiring child labor to melt our hearts?"], and ["They actually brought in little kids?"].
With the children’s help, the votes were quickly sorted into piles, with three stacks noticeably taller than the rest.
Even though they knew this was just a small game, seeing the results made the previously relaxed contestants hold their breaths in nervous anticipation.
No matter how slim the odds, nearly everyone secretly hoped they might be the winner.
The dance host, holding a lobster-shaped pouch, said, "Judging by your expressions, you must know the top-voted contestants get a reward."
"That’s right. We’ll select the three contestants with the highest votes. These three will get the largest practice rooms in the dance hall—and they can share them with their teammates."
"Of course, since team assignments haven’t started yet, it’s up to the winners to decide who they want to share with."
Backstage, Yu Xiangwan watched the live broadcast on the large screen and turned to Sheng Quan beside her. "Isn’t this rule a bit cliché?"
Sheng Quan smiled at the screen. "Cliché, but effective."
A large practice room was enough to excite any contestant.
More space and time for practice? No contestant would turn that down.
Naturally, this rule had been pushed through by Sheng Quan herself…
It had to be said, the professional mentors hired at great expense were incredibly dedicated. Dividing six hundred contestants among a dozen mentors was no small pressure.
Yet, based on their expertise, they evaluated and provided feedback for every contestant.
Of course, the contestants weren’t aware of this—the mentors would use these assessments to guide and train them toward better performances.
In Tu Zhu’s evaluation, nearly every mentor noted the same flaw: excessive self-doubt.
A little insecurity in an ordinary person might not be a big deal—just occasional unhappiness due to low self-esteem.
But an idol cannot be insecure.
Stage presence and charisma are everything. Someone who doubts themselves can’t boldly showcase their full potential—a fatal flaw on stage.
Sheng Quan didn’t need to intervene directly. In fact, for someone as insecure as Tu Zhu, excessive external help might backfire.
—She just needed to make Tu Zhu see himself clearly.
On screen, the dance host rattled off the results without any dramatic pauses or fake hesitation. He simply walked to the table, picked up the top sheets from the three tallest stacks, and announced:
"Female contestants: First place, Lan He; second place, Qing Tian; third place, PB."
"Male contestants: First place, Jin Yuan; second place, Tu Zhu; third place, Wu Xiangwang."
He spoke so fast it sounded like a rap.
The contestants: "…"
The audience: "…"
[Wait, that’s it? He just announced it like that?]
[This is so against the usual script!]
[Shouldn’t he have dragged it out, teasing the audience and contestants before revealing the names?]
[Ge Ling didn’t even make top three?!]
[He’s so fast I thought he was rushing to clock out.]
[Matches my guess. Even though this season’s contestants are strong, the truly exceptional ones still stand out.]
[Tu Zhu?! It’s actually Tu Zhu! That’s Tu Zhu we’re talking about!]
[Let’s be real, Tu Zhu was amazing in that one-minute performance.]
The comments exploded again. Meanwhile, in the studio, Tu Zhu—who had been standing quietly with his usual slightly downcast gaze—jolted upon hearing his name.
He didn’t snap his head up immediately.
Instead, he lifted it slowly, as if afraid any sudden movement would shatter the dream, and stared disbelievingly at the dance host who had just read the six names.
Honestly, even through the screen, Sheng Quan found his expression heartbreaking.
Anyone could see he never expected to be among the winners.
His three extroverted roommates erupted in cheers, slinging their arms around Tu Zhu’s shoulders as if ready to break into a celebratory pole dance on the spot.
Tu Zhu, meanwhile, remained blank-faced, letting them sway him left and right.
The audience’s reaction shifted after seeing Tu Zhu’s demeanor.
[Tu Zhu’s eyes look like my puppy’s after being scolded.]
[Tu Zhu didn’t expect to win—how? He was the champion of I Love My Flight!]
[It’s hard to stay confident when you’re constantly criticized.]
[LOL, Tu Zhu’s dazed expression is oddly charming.]
[His roommates’ joy is practically radiating off them.]
[The camera pans to Jin Yuan—he’s psyching himself up. Then to Wu Xiangwang—he looks determined. But when it lands on Tu Zhu, it’s like three hyper huskies dragging a confused samoyed around.]
[This scene—Tu Zhu and his roommates are like three huskies barking "Play! Play!" at a bewildered samoyed.]
Three huskies and their samoyed friend… Hahahaha, what a perfect description.
Sheng Quan nearly died laughing.
Tu Zhu, still trapped in his "What do I even do now?" stupor, was unconsciously bouncing along with his roommates.
——He was bouncing around without even knowing why he was bouncing.
"The mastermind" Sheng Quan: Hahahahahahaha!
Even though she had anticipated this when assigning Tu Zhu roommates, it was still hilarious. Hahahaha!
Next came the moment when the winner could choose their teammates.
Tu Zhu held the key, and as he turned around, it was as if he caught a glimpse of his confident, unrestrained self from two years ago.
The dance tower host asked him, "Congratulations to this contestant! Now, the big question is—do you have someone you'd like to share your super-duper-large dance studio with?"
Tu Zhu’s gaze immediately landed on his three roommates.
Even though they had only known each other for a few days.
The young man’s eyes always carried a hint of melancholy he couldn’t quite explain, but now, he made an effort to look at his roommates and said:
"I want to share the dance studio with my three roommates."
Backstage.
—Sheng Quan listened to Tu Zhu’s answer and, though unsurprised, couldn’t help but smile happily for him.
"Ahhh!!!"
"Tu Zhu, you’re the best!!!"
The three huskies, as if blessed by a heavenly reward, immediately sprinted over in excitement, hugging him and breaking into an impromptu tap dance on the spot.
"Ahhhh thank you!!!!"
"Super-duper-large dance studio! Here we come!!! Tu Zhu, I love you!!!"
Once again, Tu Zhu—slow to react—was pulled into the celebration, looking utterly dazed. His exquisitely ethereal face seemed to ask in bewilderment:
—Why am I bouncing around again?
But… it felt kind of nice.
