APCF – Chapter 72 Teacher Xiao Qi

Anyone with experience could tell that Qi Xingchen’s flow wasn’t as refined as Kevin’s, but his lines were incredibly rhythmic. His composed and unhurried counterattack showed zero fear.

Daring to think, speak, and act—he had the audacity to go head-to-head with Kevin, a rapper known for his battle skills, someone who had even competed in the underground rap scene in the U.S. In terms of sheer presence, Qi Xingchen was in no way inferior.

Besides, Kevin’s lyrics were clearly pre-written, while Qi Xingchen was genuinely freestyling. His ability to respond on the spot, combined with the professionalism of holding back until the mentor had finished their critique—so as not to disrupt the other trainees—was enough to stir and excite the audience.

“Clap, clap, clap…”

Sparse applause started from the back rows and gradually spread forward. Within ten seconds, the entire studio had erupted.

The directing and camera crews were dumbfounded. They had expected the best stage effect of the first round to come from the trainees—yet it was delivered by a Star Observer instead.

So, this second-generation heir, Qi Xingchen… Was he here to experience life in the entertainment industry? Or was he a god-tier player on a killing spree?

The director signaled for a close-up. The camera captured Qi Xingchen’s utterly calm face—contrasted with Kevin’s twisted expression of humiliation and clenched teeth.

The tiny yellow light from the camera flickered in Kevin’s eyes, finally snapping him back to reality. He forced himself to manage his expression, but his arms trembled even more.

He couldn’t even hold the mic properly.

Unbelievable.

That spoiled rich brat, who had always been beneath him, actually dared to clap back at him in public.

Even more unbelievable—Qi Xingchen’s counterattack, both technically and psychologically, had hit his weakest spot perfectly.

So what if he didn’t want to learn Chinese?

He was American. Even if he debuted in China, he would eventually go back home.

To him, this was just a place to gain popularity and make money. Tossing out a few “I love you,” “Muah muah,” or “You’re so pretty” was more than enough effort for his Chinese fans.

Why waste time learning the language?

So why the hell did that rich brat have to single him out?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He lifted the mic, ready to battle Qi Xingchen again. But just as he opened his mouth, it hit him—

Battles were for rappers. Only rappers settled disputes this way.

Just now, his instincts had already treated Qi Xingchen as an equal.

But Qi Xingchen debuted as an actor. This was their first-ever musical clash.

How could he put Qi Xingchen on the same level as himself?

That was the essence of a battle—no matter how vicious or dirty the insults got, once that tension snapped, the moment the nerves relaxed, it was game over.

Kevin’s mind went blank.

For the first time—he couldn’t think of a single rhyme.

In the few seconds that Bo Ye was thinking, the director’s voice came through his earpiece:

“Talk to Qi Xingchen. There are still several groups left to perform—dragging this out will mess up the competition schedule.”

Bo Ye ignored him. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Qi Xingchen. Seeing that he had turned off his mic, clearly not planning to continue, Bo Ye spoke indifferently:

“Kevin.”

Kevin turned toward Bo Ye.

The director: “…”

F*ck. These two were working in sync—were they determined to blow this up?!

The director, on the verge of a headache, frantically signaled for Bo Ye to stop. But Bo Ye didn’t care. Seeing that Kevin was paying attention, he asked in English: “We have an old saying in China: ‘There’s a first and a second time, but never a third and fourth.’ Have you heard of it?”

Kevin looked confused and shook his head. “No.”

Bo Ye explained, “It means that if a mistake happens once or twice, I can forgive it, considering it a result of ignorance. But if it happens a third or fourth time, then I have every reason to believe you have no intention of changing.”

He paused briefly before continuing: “During the early stages of the competition, Teacher Qi reminded you twice about your Chinese skills. And to protect your reputation, he was very subtle about it.”

Hearing this, Qi Xingchen was momentarily stunned.

During the initial ranking and theme song evaluation, while he had been dissatisfied with Kevin’s refusal to learn Chinese, he had never explicitly called him out for it. Even before this round started, he had still hoped Kevin would come around.

Just as Qi Yunxiao had told him—he couldn’t ruin any trainee’s future.

So Bo Ye had seen everything all along.

The anger that had been making his stomach ache instantly disappeared. Qi Xingchen was so happy he couldn’t stop rubbing his hands together.

Unaware of Qi Xingchen’s joy, Bo Ye’s voice grew colder: “But your behavior today has deeply disappointed me. You didn’t appreciate Teacher Qi’s goodwill. Instead, you wrote lyrics targeting him. This only proves one thing—narrow-mindedness knows no borders. Even though you live in the ‘land of freedom’ you admire so much, you still don’t understand gratitude. You don’t appreciate other cultures.”

“I feel ashamed of the word ‘freedom’—because you are trapped by your own narrow vision. Your soul is not free at all.”

While Qi Xingchen cared about the future of the trainees, as the show’s overall decision-maker, Bo Ye was more concerned with the competition’s fairness.

He had no interest in wasting more words. He delivered his verdict: “My Era is selecting a Chinese idol. If you’re willing to apologize to Teacher Qi right here, and start learning Chinese the moment you step off the stage, we will still welcome you with open arms for cultural exchange.”

“But if you refuse, then I’m sorry—”

“Among the final six debut members, your name will never be on the list.”

The moment those words fell, the entire venue exploded!

Viewers had only seen the edited version of the show. Early on, Kevin’s agency had pulled strings behind the scenes, and the edits deliberately downplayed his flaws. As a result, the audience had always assumed that Kevin and Qi Xingchen’s main conflict was over their two B-rank evaluations.

So when Kevin dissed Qi Xingchen, the audience had taken a “the more drama, the better” attitude and thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle.

But then Qi Xingchen and Bo Ye both brought up the language issue, and the audience started to sense something was off.

Before they could fully process it, Bo Ye completely nailed Kevin to the wall.

If Qi Xingchen was bold—then f*ck, Bo Ye was even bolder!

With Kevin’s arrogant personality, how could he possibly apologize to Qi Xingchen?

Right there on the spot, he slammed his mic to the ground, abandoned his teammates without a word, and stormed back to the dorm, fuming.

Two hours later, after Bo Ye and Qi Xingchen finished recording, they received the news—

Kevin had withdrawn from the competition.

This was the best choice for Kevin. Rather than staying on stage and gradually exposing his true nature, it was better to leave now while the audience still had some lingering attachment to him.

But…

Just as Bo Ye was about to step off the stage, Qi Xingchen called out, “Wait a second!”

Bo Ye glanced at the audience, who were gradually exiting. “Let’s talk backstage.”

“It’s fine… I just wanted to thank you for speaking up for me. But next time, you don’t have to. It’ll bring trouble your way.”

Forcing a trainee to quit—it was inevitable that they’d both face criticism.

“I wasn’t helping you. As the show’s initiator, my responsibility is heavier than yours. Besides…” Bo Ye let out a soft scoff. “A little pest like that isn’t worth paying attention to. Don’t worry about it.”

Qi Xingchen knew full well that, with Bo Ye’s industry connections, it would be incredibly easy to ensure Kevin never got another chance in the spotlight.

But he couldn’t stand seeing Bo Ye getting criticized—it felt worse than being scolded himself.

“Alright, trust me, okay?” Bo Ye noticed his guilty expression and, in a reassuring gesture, gave the back of Qi Xingchen’s neck a firm squeeze.

“Ahhhhhh—!!!”

Two girls who had been stuck behind the crowd, unable to leave yet, immediately transformed into screaming fans at the sight.

“Ahhh! Brother Ye! Xingxing! Can you sign for us?!”

Bo Ye rarely refused fan autograph requests. He nodded slightly, his hand still resting on Qi Xingchen’s neck, and nudged him toward the girls.

But after walking a few steps, Qi Xingchen felt something was off.

These two girls looked really familiar… Wait…

Weren’t they the Last Night’s Stardust CP fans he saw earlier?!

Panic instantly set in. “Uh… maybe we shouldn’t sign after all.”

“Why not?”

“The production team is looking for us. We should focus on official matters first.”

“Signing for fans is official business too. It’ll only take a few minutes,” Bo Ye responded as if he didn’t see the problem. “Come on.”

With no more excuses, Qi Xingchen was dragged to the very front of the stage. The two girls were already waiting, their faces flushed with excitement.

“Where do you want us to sign?” Bo Ye asked.

The girls exchanged a glance before holding out their ticket stubs and pens. “Here, please! Thank you, Gege!”

“Ticket stubs?” Bo Ye raised a brow. “Where are your banners?”

Seeing the girls hand over their ticket stubs, Qi Xingchen initially felt relieved. But then, Bo Ye just had to bring up the topic, and the panic returned.

Most artists, unless they were deliberately faking interactions to boost popularity, avoided CP (couple pairing) rumors. Qi Xingchen wasn’t sure how Bo Ye felt about it, but chances were, he wouldn’t like it.

The CP fans had the same concerns. Afraid that their idols would dislike it, they had deliberately not taken out their CP banners.

The girls hesitated before responding, “Our banners… they’re not really appropriate.”

“Aren’t the banners just our photos? What’s inappropriate about that?” Bo Ye’s tone was calm. “Ticket stubs are hard to keep in good condition. Use the banners instead.”

Qi Xingchen: “!!!”

Wait… did he hear that right?

Did Bo Ye know these two were CP fans?

Did he know that the banners were CP banners?

Then… did that mean Bo Ye didn’t mind being paired with him?!

Qi Xingchen couldn’t help but look at Bo Ye.

And the next moment, Bo Ye answered his question—with his actions.

He took the banner, unhesitatingly signed his name on his own close-up photo, then handed it to Qi Xingchen.

“Your turn.”

Qi Xingchen was so stunned that he didn’t even know what day it was—of course, the CP fans were even more confused, unable to understand why the flowers had to be so red.

After signing autographs and seeing off the fans, as Qi Xingchen expected, the acting director, Lei Zi, was waiting for them in the meeting room for a discussion.

At this point, the situation was set: one of them was a ratings guarantee, and the other was the younger brother of the president’s friend. The production team couldn’t hold them accountable and had to begrudgingly explain the next round’s process.

Kevin’s withdrawal wouldn’t affect the next round. After today’s first comprehensive ranking announcement, the bottom 21 contestants, along with Kevin, totaling 22 people, had been eliminated. The remaining 66 trainees would advance to the next stage—the free team competition.

In this second round, the top ten trainees from the first comprehensive ranking would become team captains, selecting performance songs in order of their ranking from highest to lowest. The remaining trainees would then choose which team they wanted to join, also in ranking order.

The higher the ranking, the better the chances of picking a desired song and stronger teammates. The lower the ranking, the greater the risk.

Survival of the fittest—after the second round, the program would announce the second comprehensive ranking. By then, just like in the first round, trainees ranked 45th to 66th would be immediately eliminated.

Each round was harsher than the last.

After hearing the competition rules, Qi Xingchen couldn’t help but worry for Class F. This time, Class F had performed unexpectedly well, with seven trainees remaining—far better than the predicted survival of only two.

This proved that hard work didn’t always guarantee success, but without effort, failure was certain.

After the meeting, Qi Xingchen quickly packed up and rushed out of the conference room. The production team had a rule that eliminated trainees couldn’t linger and had to leave immediately. He planned to visit the trainees’ dorms for a final look at the Class F members who hadn’t made it.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw Bo Ye heading in the same direction. Curious, he asked, “…Do you still have filming?”

“No, my next recording is the same as yours—tomorrow,” Bo Ye replied. “I’m going to check on Kevin’s teammates.”

Kevin’s teammates had all advanced, but after what happened, they were probably feeling terrible.

“I’m going to see Class F,” Qi Xingchen said. “Let’s go together.”

Chatting as they walked, they entered the dormitory building. Class F’s rooms were on the second floor, so Qi Xingchen followed Bo Ye up the stairs.

As they turned the corner, Qi Xingchen suddenly froze at the sight before him.

—In the short corridor, more than thirty suitcases were stacked against the wall. Beside them, the eliminated Class F trainees stood in three rows.

Wu Qian stood at the front, holding a large cake. The design was simple, with eight big words written in red fruit sauce on top:

[Teacher Qi, we love you.]

Qi Xingchen’s eyes turned red in an instant.

The production team had arranged cars to take them to the airport, so they couldn’t have a farewell meal together. He had originally planned to help the trainees pack, then joke around with them on the way to the parking lot to ease the sadness.

But these little brats…

In the corridor, two cameras were recording the trainees’ departure. Qi Xingchen quickly took a deep breath and feigned annoyance, “Why did you get a cake? It’s not even my birthday!”

Wu Qian, usually full of playful grins, was solemn for once. He sniffled and said, “We didn’t know what you liked, so we all made a cake for you together. Teacher Qi—”

His voice choked with emotion. “From now on, Class F will be gone. We’ll be gone. We hope you’ll take care of yourself and stay as cool as ever… And we also hope you’ll remember the taste of this cake, and remember us.”

“…”

Qi Xingchen felt his chest tighten, unsure of how to respond. It took him a long time to suppress the lump in his throat before he finally said, “How could I ever forget you? Before we went on stage today, I said that in this show, I’m your mentor. But outside of it, I’m your friend. We have all the time in the world to stay in touch.”

Friend?

Wu Qian shook his head.

“Teacher Qi, that time in the practice room, you were absolutely right. Before we came here, we all had dreams of making it big. But when we saw how strong our competitors were… to be honest, we chickened out.”

“That feeling of endless uncertainty… I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced it. We did try our best, but whether it was because we lacked talent, started too late, or just weren’t smart enough… no matter how much we trained, we could never match those who had maybe only been practicing for a year.”

“My Era showed us what it really meant—there’s always someone better, always a higher mountain to climb. And since we were about to be eliminated anyway, we gave up. We stopped training seriously.”

“But then we met you. You told us the stage was big, bright. You told us that if we worked hard from that moment on, there was still time to stand on it. You told us you’d train with us.”

“You moved us. And for the first time, we wanted… to give it a shot.”

Wu Qian lifted his head and blinked rapidly, forcing back his tears. “Looking back now, I’d say it turned out pretty well. Seven of us made it through. That’s the best outcome we could have hoped for.”

“For those of us who were eliminated, we’re not sad. We enjoyed today’s stage. We enjoyed our time with you.”

“Teacher Qi,” Wu Qian glanced back at the other boys struggling to hold back their tears, “can we… can we hug you?”

Can we hug you?

Qi Xingchen didn’t say a word. He simply opened his arms.

With a leap, he threw himself into the crowd of Class F trainees. The boys clung to each other tightly, and in an instant, the whole group burst into tears.

Their sobs started as muffled sniffles but soon turned into uncontrollable cries—mourning the grueling, endless days of training, the uncertainty of where their future would lead…

But also, for their unwavering determination—from past to future—to keep pushing forward, no matter what.

“Teacher Qi,” in a haze, Qi Xingchen heard someone say, “you are not just a friend.”

“You will always be our mentor.”