APCF – Chapter 71 Foreign Trash

What little boss? Bo Ye already had his own studio now—he was essentially independent and no longer took orders from Noah.

Qi Xingchen’s legs went weak from being teased and snapped back in embarrassment, “Y-you should go to the class next door! Don’t disrupt our class’s studies.”

Wu Qian: “Wow, is this how you treat your employees, Teacher Qi?”

Qi Xingchen: “……”

Just wait, I’ll work you to the bone later!

“Alright, cut it out. Focus and practice properly. We have a recording tomorrow, so get to bed early tonight.”

Bo Ye, worried that Qi Xingchen might actually want to disappear into the floor from embarrassment, finally put a stop to Wu Qian’s antics. Then, turning to Qi Xingchen, he chuckled softly and said, “I’m leaving now, little boss.”

Qi Xingchen: “……”

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Luckily, the F-class members were kind enough to hold back their laughter and not tease him further. Qi Xingchen, still fuming, declared that he would drill them into the ground, but after seeing they had improved enough, he finally chased them all back to their dorms around midnight.

With his milk in hand, Qi Xingchen finally regained a long-lost deep sleep.

The next morning, he boarded the nanny van feeling refreshed and energetic—only for An Ran’s words to send his mood crashing.

“Xingxing, don’t check Weibo today,” An Ran said gently. “There’s some negativity going around. Let me handle it, you just focus on the recording.”

“What is it? Are they saying I used family connections to get ahead?”

An Ran paused for a moment. “Did you check Weibo this morning?”

“No,” Qi Xingchen shook his head, “but I can guess.”

Since he already knew, An Ran didn’t bother stopping him. While getting his makeup done, Qi Xingchen glanced at My Era’s trending topic page.

As expected, thousands of marketing accounts and netizens were subtly implying that he used his family background to secure resources. Many major influencers were spreading stories about him abusing power and stealing roles from other artists, painting vivid narratives as if they had witnessed it firsthand.

Ever since his background was exposed, he had anticipated this backlash—but he hadn’t expected this many people to be bitter about it. He originally thought only Kevin’s fans, who already disliked him, would stir up trouble.

Out of curiosity, he clicked into a few netizens’ profiles. Sure enough, some were Kevin’s fans, but most had barely any personal activity—clear signs of being burner accounts.

The smear campaign was painfully obvious.

Someone had definitely hired a PR firm to slander him.

Qi Xingchen put away his phone. There was still a recording session ahead, and no matter how curious he was, he had to hold back. He instructed An Ran to prepare a solid PR response and make sure everything was handled properly.

After nearly a week of relentless training—going to bed at 2 or 3 AM and waking up at 6 or 7 AM—every single member of F-class had visibly lost weight.

Now, it was time to see the results of their hard work.

At 9 AM sharp, all 88 trainees gathered in the makeup room while the styling team worked at full speed. By noon, hair, makeup, lighting, stage design, and all other preparations were completed, and the trainees conducted their third rehearsal. At 1:30 PM, the production team ushered in 500 audience members selected from across the country, with the assistant director warming up the crowd. At 2 PM, the first round of performances officially began.

Out of the 88 trainees, the vast majority had never performed in front of a live audience before. They were so nervous that they kept taking deep breaths.

Qi Xingchen, waiting in the backstage area, couldn’t comfort them in person, so he pulled out his phone and sent a message in the F-Class group chat:

[Don’t be nervous. Show your true strength. I’ll be waiting for your triumphant return. You got this! 👍]

F-Class: [Whimpering noises.]

Wu Qian: [If we all get eliminated, will you still love us?]

Xingxing: [First of all, you won’t all get eliminated. Secondly, whether you stay or leave, you’re my students now and my friends afterward. Lastly, don’t get discouraged yet—show some fighting spirit, okay?]

Wu Qian: [For you, we’ll do our best.]

Xingxing: [Not for me—for yourselves. Don’t just try your best, go all out!]

F-Class: [ROAR!]

Satisfied with their response, Qi Xingchen put away his phone. The director signaled, and the mentor introduction segment began.

Since this was a trainee survival show, not a mentor showcase, the mentors simply went on stage to greet the audience. Qi Xingchen, feeling zero pressure, followed at the back of the group, led by Bo Ye.

“AAAAHHHHHHH——”

The moment Bo Ye appeared, the entire venue erupted in deafening screams!

He led four others to the center of the stage and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling the audience to quiet down. In the sea of Bo Ye and trainee name signs, Qi Xingchen attempted to find his own light board.

Before he could spot one, his eyes landed on a “Last Night’s Stardust” CP (couple pairing) banner among the mix.

The banner’s background was dark blue, with a silver-painted galaxy in the top left corner. In the middle, there was an enlarged, pink-cheeked, adorable close-up of him and Bo Ye, their heads leaning tightly together as if they were snuggling.

Qi Xingchen paused for a few seconds before casually shifting his gaze away.

But those few seconds were enough for the fans holding the banner to notice—two girls nearly burst into tears from excitement.

“HE SAW US AHHHHH!!!”

“Waaahhh, this is my first time seeing Xingxing in person—he’s so thin, his face is so small, he’s killing me with his handsomeness!”

“Ye-ge’s trench coat today is TOO cool. Ah Wei and I might as well just go get cremated together.”

“They’re so perfect together, sob sob sob, how can two people be this compatible?! I swear, I’d give up eating meat for a month if it meant they only had eyes for each other!”

Just as the CP fans finished wailing, it was time for the last mentor’s introduction. Bo Ye slightly bowed and turned to Qi Xingchen.

“Xingxing, your turn.”

His lips curved in a subtle smile, and his deep black eyes looked straight at him.

Qi Xingchen snapped back to reality at the sound of his name, his heart pounding wildly. His fingers unconsciously tightened around the mic, and he pressed his lips together before giving Bo Ye a small nod.

CP fans: “……”

CP fans: “I SHOULDN’T HAVE WISHED FOR THIS DAMN IT. I JUST WANTED THEM TO MAKE EYE CONTACT, NOT FOR ME TO SUFFER! I WANT MY MEAT BACK, WAAAHHHH!!!”

After the introductions, the five mentors returned to their seats, and Bo Ye introduced the first group of trainees.

Their performance was decent—solidly above average in overall skill. Qi Xingchen refocused his attention on their execution, occasionally jotting down notes.

As the final pose settled, Qi Xingchen lifted his 17 million handheld microphone and spoke.

“Your performance completion rate is about 70%. At 1 minute 20 seconds, Jiang Yanzhi was slightly off-pitch. It should have been ‘Mi-Do-Re,’ but you went up by one key. At 1 minute 40 seconds, Qian Yu’s moves were out of sync with the beat. Your double-arm pop didn’t hit properly.”

He extended his arms and demonstrated, “Mine’s not perfect either, but something like this.”

Most of the audience hadn’t expected him to give any meaningful feedback.

Ever since his background was exposed—and after Weibo flooded with smear campaigns—almost everyone had assumed he had bought his way onto My Era with his family’s wealth.

But he hadn’t expected that the observer was so meticulous, noticing even such small details. In a group performance with frequent movement changes, backing vocals, and harmonies, it would be difficult to catch such nuances unless one was extremely familiar with the choreography.

Not only did he notice, but he also demonstrated the correct movements.

The audience’s gazes toward him now carried a hint of curiosity.

He then pointed out a few more strengths and weaknesses. After listening, Bo Ye turned to the other mentors and asked, “Any additions?”

Zheng Yuyang replied, “Qi pointed out everything already.”

“Alright.” Bo Ye nodded. “Good work. Group A, take a short break. Group B, you’re up next.”

The following groups had varying levels of skill. Not wanting to stand out too much, Qi Xingchen allowed the other mentors to give most of the feedback. He only spoke when asked directly.

Soon, it was Kevin’s team’s turn. The audience’s screams were several times louder than for the previous groups.

Kevin’s group had six members, three of whom ranked in the top 15 in popularity. They were considered a strong team by the production staff and highly anticipated by the audience.

After the previous theme song evaluation, Kevin had toned down his attitude. According to his teammates, he no longer arrived late or left early.

Although Qi Xingchen suspected that the viral marketing accounts spreading brainwashing-style content were orchestrated by Kevin himself, suspicion alone wasn’t proof. If Kevin was willing to set aside their past grievances and focus on improving, Qi Xingchen had no desire to continue their conflict.

As a mentor, engaging in petty battles with a trainee was beneath him.

Kevin’s team was assigned a particularly difficult song. To maximize his strength in rap, the music arranger had even modified the track to allow Kevin a 20-second freestyle segment.

With the song running around four minutes and Kevin also handling lead dance sections during the chorus, his total solo time neared a full minute—evidence of both the show’s and his team’s recognition of his ability.

A powerful intro blasted through the speakers, silencing the audience. The six trainees crouched in a circle on the ground before launching into six synchronized backflips in different directions.

The opening was electrifying!

Watching skilled trainees perform was a pleasure. A satisfied smile appeared on Qi Xingchen’s face.

Two verses and two choruses passed. Qi Xingchen noted that the number of mistakes made could be counted on one hand. A brief 10-second interlude showcased an incredibly sharp group dance before Kevin stepped forward.

It was his freestyle time.

Kevin pulled out his best tricks. He opened with a 15-second a cappella rap in English, his rapid-fire delivery leaving the audience exhilarated.

Many spectators couldn’t help but rise to their feet, their applause pushing the atmosphere to its peak.

Noticing the crowd’s reaction, Kevin smirked disdainfully. After a two-second break, his gaze—whether intentional or not—locked onto Qi Xingchen’s.

He lowered his voice and said:

“Hey, bitches.”

Qi Xingchen suddenly had a bad feeling.

“You can call Kevin / I’m from America / Been here for over twenty years, not rich but always free / Heard money rules this place / But sorry, today you’re facing me / Haters, surrender now or I’ll make you pay / Watch me tear the mouths of the elite with my flow.”

It was only a few seconds—about five in total.

At first, the audience listened intently, but soon their eyes widened in shock, sensing there was something more behind these lyrics.

It wasn’t until the next team member stepped forward that the realization hit—Kevin was dissing Qi Xingchen!

And he did it in Chinese, making it a blatant, unmistakable provocation!

The so-called “elite”—who else could that be, if not Second Young Master Qi, whose identity had been exposed just yesterday?!

No one could believe that Kevin had the guts to openly mock Qi Xingchen in a competition performance, but at the same time, no one could outright condemn him—after all, “keeping it real” was a fundamental principle of rap.

Besides, this was a competition. Even if a judge got dissed, they had to keep things professional and judge based on performance rather than personal grievances.

With just a few lines of rap, the entire atmosphere in the studio became explosively tense. The audience was no longer focused on the performance; instead, all eyes turned to Qi Xingchen.

But his expression remained unchanged—serious and composed as ever.

In contrast, Bo Ye’s face had darkened, his brows furrowing in displeasure.

The final chorus played out under this heavy atmosphere. Once the performance ended, the six trainees stood in a line, awaiting feedback from the mentors and the audience vote.

It seemed the other team members had no idea what Kevin’s lyrics were beforehand. They looked slightly panicked.

Trying to smooth things over, Chen Jiayi quickly grabbed the mic and gave brief comments on each team member.

When she got to Kevin, she simply brushed past him with a few words before asking, “Yuyang, Wei, any additional thoughts? If not, we’ll move on.”

Wei Qin responded with a simple “Mm.” Zheng Yuyang, always one to stir the pot, shrugged and said, “Alright, next group then.”

“Wait.”

Just as the six were about to leave the stage, Qi Xingchen called them back.

Oh no.

Everyone in the studio tensed up—this was about to escalate into a full-blown confrontation.

Since things had already reached this point, the production crew turned the cameras toward the two of them. Seeing Qi Xingchen’s unrelenting stance, the director assumed he was about to lose his temper and drop some harsh words—a perfect hook for next episode’s drama.

But Qi Xingchen didn’t care about the cameras. He ignored the mix of concerned and amused gazes from all around him.

Lifting his chin, he calmly pushed the mic switch with his thumb.

The next moment, his icy voice echoed through the speakers:

“You think you’re all that? / I’ll make you kneel when I spit a track / This is a stage made in China / Open your damn eyes before you rap / Want to be a Chinese idol? Learn the language first / Want Chinese money? Then respect Chinese culture.”

Qi Xingchen paused briefly, then continued:

“Trash like you should be properly sorted / Oh, my bad—I forgot, we don’t recycle foreign trash / So pack up what little brains you have / And get the hell back to your free A—B—C—”