Brian Clark gave a thumbs up and forced a smile, saying, “Because every day you get encouragement from strangers. Keep it up!”

“Ha ha, is that so…”

Grace Carter realized what he meant and stuck out her tongue with a smile.

Brian Clark patted his forehead, utterly speechless. “Still laughing? I’m saying this about you, and you don’t argue or get mad?”

Grace Carter slowly lowered her head. “But everything you said is true…”

“Alright, don’t listen to your grandma about becoming a music teacher. In the workplace, someone like you would just get bullied to death.”

Brian Clark sighed helplessly, then patted his chest and said, “How about this—if we get famous after this competition, you can stick with me. I’ll look out for you.”

As someone with grand plans in his heart, Brian Clark was of course not satisfied with just joining a talent show. The art of painting big dreams and brainwashing had to be done gradually—if he could make her believe she couldn’t do anything without him, that would be a success.

Grace Carter looked at his confident, high-spirited expression, the corners of her mouth curving up. “Alright, I’ll think about it when the time comes.”

Suddenly, Brian Clark remembered something, stopped in his tracks, and turned around. “Give me your hand, either one.”

“Huh?”

Grace Carter was stunned for a moment. Though she didn’t know what he was up to, she still held out her hand to him.

Brian Clark naturally took her slender, lotus-root-like fingers in one hand, and with the other, gently stroked the back of her hand.

Her hand was a bit cold.

Good, people with warm hearts have cold hands.

“What are you doing…”

A blush swept across Grace Carter’s cheeks.

“What are you dodging for? Don’t you know me by now? I’m honest and proper.”

Brian Clark shot her a look, slowly let go of her hand, then took a bottle of hand cream out of his pants pocket, unscrewed the cap, scooped out a bit, and gently rubbed it onto the back of her hand.

“Don’t take on such tough part-time jobs. Your hands are getting rough from all the work.”

When they shook hands that afternoon, Brian Clark had noticed it. Knowing she was working too hard at her part-time job, he went to the cosmetics counter at the mall and bought a better bottle of hand cream.

“Smell it, see if you like the scent?”

Grace Carter stared blankly at Brian Clark, completely dazed. Only after he repeated himself twice did she pull her hand back, bring it close to her nose, and sniff. Her lips trembled almost imperceptibly.

“It smells so good. I really like this scent…”

Brian Clark grabbed her wrist and slapped the hand cream into her hand. “Glad you like it. It’s yours now. Don’t say you don’t want it. You helped me out so much—this is just a little token of my appreciation.”

“Thank you, Zhixing.”

Grace Carter looked down at the hand cream in her hand, her reddened eyes gradually filling with tears.

【Congratulations, host. Detected that your partner has gained the emotions “surprised” and “moved.” Reward: +5 proficiency in “rap”!】

【Current: Rap D (4/5).】

Huh???

Chapter 4: The Birth of a Group

On the eve of recording.

Room 502, girls’ dormitory.

“I’m gazing up at the moon above”

“How many dreams are flying freely”

“Yesterday is forgotten, the wind has dried my sorrow”

“I want to meet you again on that vast road”

The dorm room door was pushed open. Megan Harris, just back from her part-time job, walked in rubbing her shoulders. She glanced at Grace Carter, who was holding lyrics and singing, and grinned, “Miss Carter, what’s got you in the mood to sing out loud in the dorm today? I used to beg you to sing in here and you never would!”

A roommate with a face mask on shook her head in disbelief. “She’s been singing all day, Old Harris. I’ve known her for almost four years, and today’s the first time she’s ever asked me to bring her food back!”

Megan Harris instantly understood, rolled her eyes, and said, “You big dummy, is this the song you and he are performing on the show?”

Grace Carter nodded shyly.

Megan Harris recalled the melody, undressing as she curiously asked, “What’s this song called? Who sings it? It sounds weird but really good. I’ll download it later.”

“It’s good, right!”

A proud smile spread across Grace Carter’s face. “Zhixing wrote it. It’s not online.”

Megan Harris flung her supermarket promo uniform onto the bed and stuck out her tongue, making a face. “Yeah, right. If he really wrote this song, I’ll run three laps naked around the boys’ dorm!”

Grace Carter: “……”

……

……

The day of recording.

7:30 p.m.

Jincheng Broadcasting and Television Building, “The Birth of a Group” recording hall.

All the contestant groups from across the country were waiting in the lounge. What they had to do today was simple: go on stage, perform, and be graded and assigned seats and classes based on their performance.

A major highlight of this music talent show was the contestant seating arranged beside the stage.

The contestant seats were special—there were six rows from bottom to top, divided into six levels. Level one was the highest, Class 1, which could seat three groups; Class 2, six groups; Class 3, nine groups, and so on in a tiered fashion. The lowest, Class 6, would face the risk of immediate elimination.

This rule was a bit similar to the girl group version of “Sisters Who Make Waves” in Korea, except there, seats were ranked by album sales after debut. This kind of tiered ranking really made the show worth watching.