Chapter 43: The Relationship Seat Part 1

The buzz outside the island about the officially announced Flying Mentor had nothing to do with what was happening inside.

Jie Yifu had said no phones for the trainees, and so they couldn’t play on any phones at all.

Including backup ones. If one was found, it would mean an island-wide public criticism.

He was truly terrified that these young, hot-blooded boys would cause trouble before even debuting.

Of course, the production team had a scheduled weekly “safety check-in” segment. The trainees could call family, friends, or classmates to prove that they really were in a closed-off survival show recording and hadn’t been trafficked to some compound for pyramid schemes.

Thus, Training Island was also known as Phone Addiction Rehab Island.

Considering their desperate itch to surf the web (mainly to see how their fans were blowing rainbow-colored smoke up their asses; precisely zero people wanted to read hate comments), the mentors almost never played with their phones in front of the trainees.

But Li Tingzhou couldn’t do that. He really had too many things to handle.

The best arrangement should have been to fly to G City with Heartbreak on Monday afternoon, arriving a day early to prepare for the Top Five Vocal Concert.

But according to his contract, Li Tingzhou had no choice but to stay on the island for one more full day.

On top of that, he had to watch these trainees actually push the progress forward, not just dive headfirst into the practice room and train themselves into a dripping, sweaty mess, only to re-check the next day and sound exactly the same. Then he’d continue scolding, aiming to make one cry per session, and after gathering nine, all the male trainees would turn over a new leaf and become new men…

That was unrealistic. There wasn’t enough time, and the director wouldn’t allow it.

Jie Yifu could let Mengmeng stir things up, but that didn’t mean he dared to stand by and watch Mengmeng get flamed online.

Secondly, not everyone’s face was as uniquely… thick-yet-thin as Zhao Zhining’s.

When it was thick, you could make an example of him, sarcastically aiming remarks at others through him. Zhao Zhining wouldn’t even notice. When it was thin, Li Tingzhou hadn’t even gotten to the truly harsh part. He’d barely used fifty percent of his force, maybe less, and this kid’s tear ducts would explode, tears trembling on the verge of breaking free.

More of the trainees were already developing bad habits at this stage.

What bad habits?

They hadn’t even debuted yet, but because they had the love of fans, they were starting to feel emboldened.

Although Mengmeng had said those deeply cutting, soul-exposing words the night before—opening a giant hole in everyone’s chest that leaked air with a hollering sound—it was still just a single night’s worth of defense-shattering. For those who gained some insight and were willing to act on it, as long as they stayed in this environment for even a day, it would be very difficult to truly escape this atmosphere.

So Li Tingzhou understood: some things couldn’t be forced.

He couldn’t force a horse to drink water by holding its head down.

Things even the resident mentors couldn’t achieve, why should he, a mere Flying Mentor, worry about it?

Thus, the “BAD” group noticed that Teacher Mengmeng’s temper seemed better than the night before. The trainees guessed: He probably did some self-reflection and thought being so strict wasn’t good for us. Even though his flight time only has a day left, it’s never too late to change his attitude.

Including Zhao Zhining, the trainees were visibly, genuinely happy!

Only An Jue and Kang Yu knew that Mengmeng had actually “given up” on this rotten wood.

Whoever wanted to carve them could go ahead.

Kang Yu even comforted him with his own experience: “Let me tell you a miserably sad thing. It might cheer you up a bit. The song ‘See You Tomorrow,’ from start to finish, every single line is filled with my backing track vocals. Even in the official recording, it can’t be removed one bit. Tell me, does this still count as a Star Two original song? Isn’t this just my cover of ‘See You Tomorrow’?”

Spoon-feeding was one thing, but this was chewing the food for them!

After receiving a look of pity from Mengmeng, Kang Yu laughed and said, “So, take it easy. That’s just how the world is these days.”

In the past, being an idol star required an incredibly handsome face or a stunningly beautiful face. If their skills were a bit lacking, so be it. But now, with technology so advanced, there are practically no more thresholds to becoming an idol.

They might even surpass him, their former mentor, in status after debut.

The two had lunch together, bumping heads, then split up to supervise again.

According to the competition schedule, this afternoon the trainees would enter the recording studio for the first time to record their songs. The finished tracks would be the debut group’s own works—”See You Tomorrow” was one, and “BAD” was the other.

Seeing the stone-faced Mengmeng in the recording studio, the nine members of the Bad Guys Group subconsciously wiped the cheeky grins off their faces.

Today, Mengmeng was, quite unconventionally, wearing a black shirt.

His hair was spiked up fiercely by the stylist, his fringe swept back entirely. Paired with an expression that seemed to border on impatience, that wild, untamed aura simply rushed at them, almost overwhelming.

Want to put on young-master airs and compete with Mengmeng? Everyone here fell far short!

With Mengmeng, there was none of this pushing and shoving, this “mutual deference.” Whoever he called had to come. Singing badly once? Sing again. Three chances and still failing? Go to the back of the line and re-queue. Don’t waste everyone else’s time.

“Don’t swallow your sounds. Again.”

“You can’t even learn the liaison from my demo? Again.”

“Where did you get the idea to add a growl here? Did you think it made you look cool? If everyone changes their vocal parts as casually as you, what happens to the overall style and effect!?”

Did he not have a clue how awful his water-buffalo voice sounded? Yet here he was, “belting beautifully.”

Li Tingzhou rolled up his sleeves to cool down, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He even pressed hard against his temples, closing his eyes and inhaling to calm himself. In those few seconds, the nine people on the other side of the soundproof glass stared at his chest slowly rising and falling, so terrified they didn’t even dare breathe too heavily…

After the male trainees were verbally hammered wave after wave, not a single line was finalized.

Now the Bad Guys Group understood: Mengmeng had never intended to change his attitude. His patience for them was already running very, very low. Yesterday he only scolded Zhao Zhining for spouting nonsense; today, no one was spared.

Midway through, Kang Yu came to visit. He brought the iced Americano Mengmeng often drank.

The others quickly made way, but Kang Yu had no intention of comforting anyone. He went straight into the opposite Master Control Room, sitting next to Li Tingzhou. Through the recording booth mic, the trainees could hear the two mentors chatting—

“How’s it going?”

“I’m starting to hate this song.”

For the composer, arranger, and producer to hate his own work… just how terrible were the singers?

Li Tingzhou didn’t hold any hope that this group could absorb, digest, and then integrate his instructions into their own vocal style. A pack of water-buffalo voices and plain white tone-deaf shouts—what style could they possibly have? If they could just obediently finish recording according to his instructions, he’d be thanking the heavens.

“At your current pace, you’ll have to catch a red-eye flight tonight?”

“Yeah.”

This “yeah” was so soft it was almost just a breath.

The male trainees were deathly silent. Hearing Mengmeng would leave the island overnight stirred complex emotions.

“‘See You Tomorrow’ isn’t urgent yet. I’ll stay here and help you.”

“Thanks, Teacher Xiao Yu. I’ll treat you to dinner when you’re out.”

And so, Kang Yu just openly stayed behind to listen to the Bad Guys Group recording.

As the resident mentor, having spent over two months with them, he could be said to know these trainees’ personalities quite well. The two of them, one playing the bad cop and the other the good cop, accurately predicted that the boys couldn’t save face in front of Mengmeng, who was close to their age. Together, they strong-armed the group, grinding through and completing all the recording work sentence by sentence.

The rest of the work would basically be handed over to the auto-tune engineers.

Only then did Li Tingzhou feel like enjoying the sunset over J Island, casually snapping two photos.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t watch for more than a few minutes before having to return to the practice room for duty. A mentor was still a teacher, and being a teacher meant unavoidable duty shifts. The only difference was, Li Tingzhou’s mood was much better: thinking that the Bad Guys Group would soon have to use his version of “BAD,” he wished them an ear-pleasing listening experience.

Zhao Zhining really never learned his lesson. Seeing Mengmeng’s expression lighten slightly, he immediately sidled up again.

“Teacher Mengmeng, are you going to Tidal Wave Tower tomorrow to record your show?”

“Do you have some instruction for me?”

Zhao Zhining, shy and timid, replied: “Last time I called home, I specifically asked. At the 4th Public Performance, you and First Sister sang ‘A Courtyard of Fragrance.’ Did you get first place?”

Li Tingzhou scared him: “Who told you that? Violating confidentiality agreements means personal accountability.”

Zhao Zhining carefully glanced at him. “My aunt.”

As he spoke, he leaned close to Li Tingzhou’s ear and whispered: “She’s…”

Okay, this indeed was someone familiar to the production team, and someone close to Pan Jun.

Li Tingzhou reached out and poked Zhao Zhining’s chest twice—not too hard, not too soft—knocking the unsuspecting trainee silly, dazed, as he stumbled two small steps backward. Once the other steadied himself, Li Tingzhou finally spoke: “Focus your mind on practice. You think two weeks is a lot of time? Such a good platform and you don’t know to cherish it. Don’t let the word get out and make people laugh at your aunt.”

“Aiya…” Zhao Zhining first froze, then broke into a huge grin and agreed, “I’ll put my heart into it, don’t be angry.”

“Why would I be angry? What you do is your own business.”

He reached out and pushed Zhao Zhining away. “Go practice. Don’t hang around in front of my eyes.”

Li Tingzhou turned his head to discuss the progress with the dance mentor. Zhao Zhining walked away but looked back every three steps. Back among the trainees, he was immediately surrounded: “Damn! What were you whispering about with Mengmeng?”

Zhao Zhining put on airs: “Nothing, I’m not telling you anyway.”

“Mengmeng even poked you twice, damn…”

Zhao Zhining couldn’t suppress his grin. “He told me to focus on practice.”

“Tch—”

~

By the time the car arrived to pick Li Tingzhou up from the island, it was already 11:30 PM.