Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Visit of the Little Scatterbrain

Aside from the minor discord caused by Liu Feng, everything proceeded smoothly—a testament to Han Dong’s meticulous planning. The "Tang Dynasty" bar, owing to its unique circumstances, occupied a special place in the music scene. Its performance environment and audience were both of the highest caliber, lacking the chaos and clamor typical of most bars. Lin Qihua and his bandmates could simply focus on their singing. By now, both the "Rose" and "Standard" bands understood that the status of the "Hellfire" band was unshakable, so they abandoned any ambitions of overtaking them and instead turned their attention to improving their own performances. Inspired by Nana, they also began to experiment with other lead performers; the "Rose" band even recruited a new member whose skills were quite impressive. Everyone was on the road to improvement.

"Hellfire" also brought in a new member, a keyboardist—a delicate young woman. It seemed that Ah Hui had finally realized that the band did not require a wild, archetypal female member; someone earnest and skilled was far more fitting. Though her technique was a bit rough, that could be improved with practice. Most importantly, her attitude was exemplary and her demeanor endearing, winning her the affection of the group. Nana, too, devoted herself to assisting her.

Her arrival also signaled that Nana’s departure was imminent—a bittersweet prospect. It was sad, yet everyone was happy for Nana. The new girl was filled with delight and hope: in such a band, someone could actually make it to the big stage as an artist. Could she do the same? Encouraged by this example, her passion for learning soared.

Today, Lin Qihua was surprised by two unexpected guests. Early in the morning, the scatterbrained Zhang Zilin called him in high spirits, saying she was on vacation and wanted to visit. Still groggy, he got up, ate a simple breakfast, tidied up, then went downstairs to buy some fruit and groceries in preparation for her arrival. She must have decided to come because Qin Lulu had asked her for his number and learned he was still in the capital. As a trainee, Zhang Zilin didn’t get much time off—maybe two or three days a month, typically reserved for rest. In his own three years as a trainee, Lin Qihua had rarely gone out during breaks.

The doorbell rang. Rising to open the door, he found Zhang Zilin—and behind her stood another girl, timidly.

"Yay!" With a cheer, Zhang Zilin threw herself into his arms, her scent washing over him. Lin Qihua staggered back half a step under the impact before regaining his balance.

"Lin, I missed you so much!" she cried, burying her head in his chest and shaking him vigorously.

"Hey, all right, all right, up you get," Lin Qihua said with a wry smile. Though Zhang Zilin was still young, she was already eighteen, her figure shaped by the company’s careful guidance—first-rate, really. Even with no ulterior motives, having her in his arms was awkward.

"Didn’t you see your friend waiting outside? Come in quickly," he said, steadying her and addressing the girl at the doorway.

"Thank you," the girl replied softly. Clearly, she had been startled by Zhang Zilin’s behavior. In the training camp, Zhang Zilin was usually very reserved and aloof, rarely speaking except when with close friends. This was the first time she had seen her act so exuberantly.

Lin Qihua led them to the sofa. Zhang Zilin immediately pulled the other girl over and introduced her with pride: "Brother, this is my best friend, Wang Ruyue. We train, play, and even share a room together. We’ll debut together someday. Ruyue, this is my brother, Lin Qihua. Just call him brother like I do."

"Hello, don’t mind her. Just call me Qihua," Lin Qihua said, nodding to Wang Ruyue.

"All right, Qihua," Wang Ruyue replied, her voice softening as she relaxed.

Both girls wore coats, which they quickly shed in the warm room, revealing their graceful figures. Zhang Zilin wore a white turtleneck sweater and high-waisted corduroy pants, her twin ponytails bouncing playfully. Wang Ruyue was dressed similarly, but in a purple sweater and with a single ponytail, giving her an elegant air. Their close bond was obvious.

Lin Qihua poured tea and set out fruit. Zhang Zilin immediately began chatting away, pouring out stories from the training camp—about strict instructors, trainees reduced to tears, new dances being learned, and so on. Clearly, she’d been holding it all in, and now, with a rare chance, she went on for over half an hour without pause. Wang Ruyue sat quietly, listening and watching her, their friendship evident in their comfort with each other.

Lin Qihua listened quietly as well, fully aware of what training camp life entailed: monotony and rigor. From dawn, it was practice—bodywork, vocal training, dance, etiquette, and more. The camp was a production line, turning out trainees with basic professional skills. Those who didn’t meet the standards were eliminated long before debut. Past this threshold, talent and hard work determined how far one could go. This was the purpose of the training camp. Life there was grueling: training filled every day, and exhaustion claimed every moment back in the dormitory. There was little time or opportunity for true friendship, since everyone was a competitor and wary of betrayal. Only a few could forge deep bonds, enduring the hardest days together.

"Brother, let us perform a dance for you," Zhang Zilin said, eager to show off, pulling Wang Ruyue to her feet.

With a smile, Lin Qihua watched them select music on a smart device. Despite the living room’s limited space, the two managed to execute their routine, matching dynamic music with energetic moves. Their dance might not have been the most graceful, but it was technically demanding—high kicks, backbends, and several difficult moves performed flawlessly. Their radiant smiles and strikingly long legs made the performance a delight.

When they finished, Lin Qihua applauded enthusiastically, much to the girls’ delight.

"The instructors say we’re about ready in all aspects. Next year we can prepare for our debut," Zhang Zilin said proudly. "Maybe we’ll even get to perform together."

"That’s impressive!" Lin Qihua exclaimed sincerely. He knew well how high the instructors’ standards were. Zhang Zilin had been at the camp for barely two years, yet she was already set to debut—a sign of her extraordinary talent.

"It's just my singing that's lacking," Zhang Zilin admitted, a little dejected. "No matter how hard I practice, it never seems to improve. The instructors say that's something you can't force."

"That’s all right—just debut as part of a group. Plenty of artists have weak vocals. If your dancing is top-notch and you have a great personality, you can still be wildly popular. You don’t have to be the lead singer—just do harmonies or be a supporting vocalist," Lin Qihua comforted her.

"I’m very confident in my dancing," Zhang Zilin quickly brightened. "Ruyue’s singing is great. When we perform together, it’s a perfect match. Ruyue, sing something for my brother—he has first-rate vocals, was number one at the camp!"

"All right," Wang Ruyue agreed. After some time, her nerves had eased. She clapped her hands in rhythm and softly sang a currently popular song.

"Excellent—your voice is clear, full of vitality, and your high notes are strong and steady. With a bit more practice, you’ll be even better," Lin Qihua encouraged her.

"Thank you, Qihua," Wang Ruyue replied happily. She had heard of Lin Qihua before—he was someone to admire. Although he wasn’t on stage for now, his confidence and presence were infectious. If he returned to performing, he would surely shine.

Lin Qihua offered her some specific guidance on a few issues. The biggest problem for trainees was lack of real experience. Aside from monthly assessments and quarterly exams, there were few chances to perform on stage. Even when mistakes happened, they didn’t know how to correct them. With his experience, Lin Qihua’s feedback was incisive and practical. If Wang Ruyue followed his advice, she would improve rapidly—saving a lot of time after debut. That was the value of experience.

Wang Ruyue understood this well. The issues Lin Qihua pointed out were exactly the spots where she always felt something was off. Now, with targeted advice, she was deeply grateful—meeting him was truly worthwhile.

As for Zhang Zilin, after hearing her sing, Lin Qihua realized her vocal talent was indeed limited. But she possessed something Wang Ruyue lacked—the most crucial gift for a performing artist: charisma. Zhang Zilin’s joy was infectious; when she smiled, everyone around her was compelled to smile too. When she was down, a gloom descended on the whole room. Lin Qihua knew what that meant—it was the mark of a true actor. Her best future lay in acting.

When he shared this with Zhang Zilin, she was overjoyed. She had always thought her poor singing meant she would never be the star, only a supporting member. Yet the instructors still saw her potential for debut—especially the acting coach, who had praised her many times. Learning that she possessed such a gift filled her with happiness and hope for the future.