Rebirth: Spoiling the Obsessive Film Emperor Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Dance of Remembrance  

The first few group performances were decent, with members from Class A and Class B undoubtedly taking the center positions in their teams, becoming the most eye-catching presence.  

One group, which included a member from Class B, seemed to aim for fairness within the team by frequently rotating the center position throughout the entire singing and dancing performance. Ironically, this made the entire performance lack a focal point, burying even the more talented trainees in mediocrity. It ended up looking like a group aerobics routine.  

Unsurprisingly, this team lost to their opponents in the PK round, and the vote gap was huge. One member from the losing team couldn’t hold back his emotions, and tears instantly streamed down his face. His teammates quickly rushed to comfort him.  

Yin Chengjue then recalled that this crying trainee was later accused by netizens of deliberately playing the victim for sympathy, facing relentless mockery.  

The reason was simple—this trainee had sharp, masculine features, unlike the delicate female trainees whose tears evoked pity or the baby-faced pretty boys whose crying triggered maternal instincts.  

So, while others could win sympathy with tears, this trainee only attracted a flood of haters calling him fake. The most common insult thrown at him was: If you don’t have the face for crying, don’t try to milk sympathy.  

Many netizens labeled him a "crybaby," a tag that stuck for years.  

Still, despite his tears, he was genuinely hardworking, an excellent pianist, and a skilled composer, which earned him a loyal fanbase who appreciated his personality.  

As for the later performances, apart from the one featuring the "honest boy" with its hilarious, comedic choreography that left a deep impression on Yin Chengjue, the rest were standard singing and dancing routines—nothing outstanding.  

Yin Chengjue was nearly dozing off until the host called Rong Yu’s name. Jolted awake, he looked up to see Rong Yu on the big screen.  

However, he only caught a glimpse of Rong Yu dressed in an ancient-style white dance costume with red patterns, long sleeves flowing, holding a fan that covered half his face. A hint of crimson eye makeup peeked through before the stage lights flickered and went dark.  

The sudden darkness silenced the audience for a moment. Then, a distant, crackling voice, as if from an old record, echoed through the venue:  

"One song of wine, the dream comes too late..."

The haunting opera-style singing, paired with the melancholic, old-fashioned melody, instantly transported Yin Chengjue to that era.  

A spotlight then illuminated a single figure reclining on a rattan chair, lazily waving a folding fan in one hand while holding a letter in the other, chin slightly raised as if lost in reminiscence.  

"Ah! It’s Fei Zhengqi!"  

"I’m not his fan, but I have to admit, Fei Zhengqi looks really handsome in this outfit!"  

The audience murmured among themselves.  

Fei Zhengqi was a Class B trainee who hadn’t stood out much in his class, yet Rong Yu had chosen him first when forming his team.  

Among all the trainees, Fei Zhengqi wasn’t the most handsome, but he had a memorable feature—a red mole between the bridge of his nose and the corner of his eye. Combined with his reserved personality, his fans jokingly called him the "Melancholy Prince."  

However, in Yin Chengjue’s past life, after the debut program ended, Fei Zhengqi had practically disappeared from the public eye, likely having switched careers.  

With that thought, Yin Chengjue didn’t dwell on Fei Zhengqi and instead searched the stage for Rong Yu.  

As the short opera interlude ended, the stage lights brightened, and the performers, already in position, burst into motion to the sudden, powerful beat of the music.  

Their assigned song was "Remembrance," which told the story of a nandan and a scholar determined to serve their country during a turbulent era.  

[男旦 (Nándàn): Male actors who specialize in playing female roles in Chinese opera.]

To take revenge, the nandan pretended to submit to the enemy while secretly leaking information. The scholar and the nandan first met in an alley, where the nandan stood over the corpse of an enemy soldier, a bloody knife in hand.  

Hearing approaching footsteps, the scholar immediately dragged the nandan deeper into the alley, escaping through a hidden tunnel.  

From then on, the two worked together, passing critical intelligence that helped their organization evade multiple crises.  

However, the nandan’s true allegiance was eventually exposed. At his public execution, had the scholar not been restrained and knocked unconscious by comrades, he would have rushed forward—ruining all their carefully laid plans.  

A gunshot pierced the sky. The comrades watched with clenched fists, engraving the scene into their bones, vowing to make the invaders pay in blood.  

In the final battle, they fought fiercely, cutting down the enemy, carrying the hopes of the fallen, until at last, they drove the invaders from their land.  

After the war, the scholar visited the nandan’s grave, removing his military cap. His comrades followed suit, pressing their caps to their chests and bowing deeply.  

Remembrance, remembrance—the departed are gone, but never forgotten.  

The scholar said: "You live in my heart—your songs, your music, your dances, your spirit—forever alive within me."  

This was the story behind "Remembrance."  

Typically, performing such a slow, melancholic song in a high-stakes competition was a risky move. Rearranging it into a high-energy boy band dance would ruin its original meaning, while keeping it unchanged would lack creativity and feel awkward.  

But Rong Yu’s team brilliantly merged the opera’s drawn-out melodies with an intense DJ beat. Their group choreography was sharp and synchronized, while during the opera segments, each trainee embodied their role, dispersing to the edges of the stage with solemn expressions, as if immersed in the story’s struggle between darkness and light.  

The audience quickly realized that aside from Rong Yu (the nandan) and Fei Zhengqi (the scholar), the other trainees played members of the resistance.  

Though dancing, they subtly passed messages through hand gestures—a detail not obvious live but captured clearly by close-up cameras, showcasing the choreographer’s meticulous planning.  

At the song’s climax—the nandan’s execution—black-clad actors restrained Rong Yu while the other trainees danced around Fei Zhengqi, symbolizing his internal conflict.  

The music paused briefly. Rong Yu struggled, laughed wildly, then broke free, drew a dagger, and mimed slitting his throat before collapsing.  

This was the turning point.  

The lights shifted to the other dancers, seemingly forgetting Rong Yu’s fallen figure—until the victory fanfare sounded. Only then did the spotlight return to Rong Yu, still motionless.  

Fei Zhengqi, now in a military uniform (having torn off his scholar’s robe mid-dance), stepped forward, removed his cap, and knelt. The others followed, bowing deeply.  

The entire venue fell silent.  

Fei Zhengqi’s voice, slightly hoarse, echoed: "You live in my heart—your songs, your music, your dances, your spirit—forever alive within me."

The opera refrain played once more from a crackling record: Remembrance, remembrance—the departed are gone, but never forgotten. 

The lights cut out.  

When they returned, a soft glow illuminated Rong Yu and Fei Zhengqi. The opening melody resumed—One song of wine, the dream comes too late...  

Rong Yu slowly rose, his sleeve brushing Fei Zhengqi’s face. Fei Zhengqi smiled, took his hand, and the two danced briefly before rejoining the group for the final pose.  

The music ended. The audience remained stunned.  

Then, applause erupted—thunderous, unending.  

Yin Chengjue, snapping out of his daze, raised Rong Yu’s light sign. Though he didn’t cheer like the excited fans, his heart pounded with awe.  

He remembered now—he’d seen this performance in his past life too. But back then, knowing Rong Yu and Ming Qian had the same song, he’d deliberately ignored it and blindly voted for Ming Qian.  

Now, free from bias, he realized how foolish he’d been.  

Whispering Rong Yu’s name, Yin Chengjue felt a surge of anticipation.  

How far will you go, Rong Yu? In the past life, I died too soon. This life, I’ll watch you rise.  

He took a deep breath, pressing a hand to his racing heart.  

Strange—why does my heart beat so fast just from seeing a promising trainee?

Shaking off the thought, his expression darkened.  

Next up—Ming Qian.  

With Feng Chengda exposed for infidelity and Yin He filing for divorce, Feng Chengda would be left penniless if the court ruled against him.  

And without Feng Changheng’s support, how could Ming Qian ever hope to compete with Rong Yu?  

A cold smirk curled Yin Chengjue’s lips. As the stage reset, he checked the live broadcast comments—only for his face to freeze in fury at what he saw.