She debuted after having a child with a celestial being.

After Cai Kunkun, the list of Class A was gradually filled.

Chen Linong's first stage performance was scheduled several groups after Cai Kunkun's.

He was wearing a loose-fitting light blue sweatshirt with sleeves so long they covered half of his hand, and he was secretly taking deep breaths as he walked onto the stage.

When his mentor asked him to introduce himself, he said, "Hello everyone, I am Chen Linong. You can call me Nongnong."

The Taiwanese accent is soft, with the last syllable rising upwards.

Zhang Yixing leaned back in his chair, a slight smile unconsciously playing on his lips.

He sang a song called "Girl," his voice was so clean it looked like it had been washed with water, without the aggressiveness of Cai Kunkun, but it made you want to keep listening.

When he sang the chorus, he smiled, his eyes curving into crescent moons.

Li Ronghao took off his glasses, wiped them, put them back on, and said, "Your voice is very distinctive."

Chen Linong's grade is A.

When he sat down in the pyramid, he chose seat number 8, which was four seats away from Cai Kunkun's seat number 4.

Justin is one of the trainees at Yuehua Entertainment, and he's in the same company as Fan Chenchen.

He was wearing a short black leather jacket over a white T-shirt, and his hair was dyed dark brown, revealing a face that wasn't fully grown but whose features were already visible.

His dance background is the most solid among all Yuehua Entertainment trainees.

He has been training for more than two years and is said to have been a trainee in South Korea.

The initial stage performance was a knife dance, with clean and crisp movements, and each fixed point was perfectly timed.

When Cheng Xiao commented, she said, "You have great self-control," and Zhou Jieqiong added, "Your facial expression management is also very good."

Grade rating – A.

Justin chose seat number 13.

As he passed Fan Chenchen's seat in Class D, he patted Fan Chenchen on the shoulder without saying a word.

Zhu Zhengting is also from Yuehua Entertainment.

He was wearing a white shirt with the collar slightly open, revealing his collarbone.

Her features are so delicate that she looks like she stepped out of a comic book, but when she dances, she becomes a completely different person.

It combines volume and flexibility, with each wave flowing from fingertips to toes, as if it were boneless.

Cheng Xiao's tone was unusually proud when she gave her comments.

Zhu Zhengting was her junior fellow apprentice during her time in South Korea, and both of them went through that rigorous and almost cruel trainee system.

Grade rating – A.

Zhu Zhengting chose seat number 11 and sat next to Justin.

The two looked at each other, and Justin gave him a thumbs up.

Wang Ziyi is an individual trainee. He is wearing a dark gray knit sweater without any patterns or logos, as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

He introduced himself in a very soft voice, saying, "I am Wang Ziyi," and then nothing more.

Zhang Yixing waited two seconds to make sure he had finished speaking before saying, "Let's begin."

He performed a Breaking routine, including a one-handed handstand, a head spin, and a windmill, landing steadily with each movement without any unnecessary wobbling.

His body slammed into the floor with a dull thud.

Throughout the entire process, Ouyang Jing's eyes, hidden under the brim of his hat, grew wider and wider.

Wang Jiaer stood up abruptly.

"You're too intense."

Grade rating – A.

Wang Ziyi bowed and chose seat number 15.

After sitting down, he secretly rubbed his wrist.

Ding Zeren and Lin Chaoze both received an A.

With the addition of Cai Kunkun, Chen Linong, Justin, Zhu Zhengting, and Wang Ziyi, six of the seven spots in Class A have already been filled.

A staff member's voice came through the loudspeaker: "Next. Individual trainee, Xiao He."

The lights in the pyramid's main hall dimmed by one degree.

At the entrance of the passage, a figure walked into the spotlight.

"The throne has arrived."

"Look at why he's so confident."

Some people started making a fuss, their tone full of sarcasm and a desire to see the show turn into a farce.

Xiao He was wearing a retro Hong Kong style printed shirt with a deep sea blue base and covered with gold-stamped geometric patterns, with layers of Baroque-style scrolls and diamond patterns.

The shirt has a loose fit, with a relaxed feel reminiscent of Hong Kong stars in the 1990s. The shoulder line falls right at the widest part of the shoulders, and the hem is tucked into the waistband, but not tightly, slightly fluffy, as if casually tucked in.

Two buttons were undone at the neckline, revealing the collarbone and a small section of the chest muscles.

He wore black flared suit trousers, the cuffs of which flared slightly from the knees, covering most of the uppers of his black platform derby shoes.

The flared pants had such smooth lines that the hem swayed gently with every step.

A thin black leather belt was tied around his waist; the metal buckle was matte and had no logo.

The shirt sleeves were rolled up to the middle of the forearm, revealing an extremely thin silver bracelet on the left wrist, which flashed briefly in the spotlight before going dark again.

The hairstyle isn't the slightly curled bangs like Cai Kunkun's, nor is it the Korean-style textured hair dyed like Justin's.

It's a Hong Kong style 3/7 split.

Her hair was naturally combed to the right, revealing her entire forehead and left brow bone. The hair had a natural curve, not the kind that was fixed with hairspray, but one that swayed slightly with her steps.

A few stray hairs fell down from her temples, not intentionally, but simply the marks left by the wind.

He walked to the center of the stage, turned around, and faced the judges' panel.

The light shone down from directly above.

Someone inside the pyramid took a breath.

"These clothes..."

"Hong Kong style? He's into Hong Kong style?"

"An individual trainee. Just like Cai Kunkun."

"The one in position number 1. He came in a Porsche."

Zhang Yixing's gaze moved from Xiao He's face to his shirt, then to his bell-bottoms, and finally to the thick-soled derby shoes on his feet.

Wang Jiaer rested his elbows on the table and his chin on the back of his hand: "Where did you buy this shirt?"

Xiao He looked down at his shirt: "Vintage store."

"Vintage clothes?"

"Yes. From the 1990s."

Wang Jiaer paused for a moment, then smiled: "Introduce yourself."

Xiao He raised his head and looked straight at the mentors' table.

"Hello, mentors. I am Xiao He, an individual trainee."

Wang Jiaer continued, "How would you rate yourself?"

Xiao He pulled the collar of his shirt to the sides.

It's not the kind of "open up and let you see" kind of presentation that Cai Kunkun does.

The light shone down from directly above, landing on his open collar, below his collarbone, on the left side of his chest, where a white tag was affixed.

A.

Zhang Yixing's gaze lingered on the "A" on Xiao He's chest for a moment: "Begin performing your original song."

The lights dimmed, and the intro began.

The heavy synthesizer sound is like layers of clouds stacked on top of each other, and the low-frequency bass line is like a heartbeat pounding in the chest.

The retro disco beat carries the ambiguity and restlessness unique to 1990s dance halls.

The edited electronic drum beats have a rough feel to them.

It has a background noise, like it was ripped directly from an old cassette tape.

The first line isn't sung; it's spoken.

"This is the best of times..."

Xiao He's voice was low and slightly hoarse, like an unknown DJ on a late-night radio show.

The last note lingered for half a beat before stopping.

"This is the worst of times."

She raised her head, her bangs parted to the sides, revealing a pair of eyes without eyeliner.

It's not the cat-like, aggressively sexy look of a handsome man like Cai Kunkun.

It's more direct, more frank, more sunny and handsome, like those male protagonists in Hong Kong movies from the 1990s standing under the neon lights of Temple Street.

"I'll kick that rich kid in front of me."

His body began to move, every joint relaxed.

Like someone who has been standing on the dance floor for a long time, you don't need to do anything deliberately; your body will move with the music on its own.

"Such a dynamic beat, you have to show off at the entrance..."

He took a step forward, the hem of his shirt tucked slightly out of his waistband, fluttering gently in the spotlight.

On the deep sea blue fabric, the gold-stamped patterns flickered with his steps.

"How can there be any obstacles in my path when I'm clubbing?"

He raised his right hand, his fingers naturally spread out, and drew a semi-arc in the air.

It wasn't a dance move; it was—like giving directions. Pointing out a path that only he knew.

"Slicked-back hair, a pager, 007 on the dance floor..."

His voice changed.

It's no longer the somber, restrained voice it once was.

They started releasing it outwards with a rough, reckless energy.

The Cantonese accent is not standard, but it is precisely this non-standard pronunciation that makes it so appealing.

Like those young people from the north in the 1990s, who entered a southern dance hall for the first time and tried to imitate the locals, they might not have been able to imitate them well, but they tried very hard.

"The first generation of card games in Northeast China was so unique, even the DJ was confused..."