Yan Ci’s face turned red because of Lin Yi.
After all, she could only showcase her driving skills in secluded places.
In public, she remained a shy girl.
“You’ll be the death of me, keep your voice down, don’t let anyone hear,” Yan Ci pinched Lin Yi, “Let’s go in first, the recording is about to start, we shouldn’t waste time.”
“Let’s go.”
The two walked side by side into the broadcasting studio, where the staff were busy bustling about, most moving at a run.
Backstage at studio number three, all the contestants were gathered here.
Two people sat in the rest area.
One of them was bald, named Wang Zhanwen, wearing a gray long robe. Judging by his attire, he seemed to be from Shaolin.
The other wore a black T-shirt, named Li Qingshan, who sat with eyes closed, appearing like a sage, his abilities not immediately apparent.
Besides them, there were over a dozen others gathered, waiting for something.
However, these people’s expressions weren’t as calm as Wang Zhanwen and Li Qingshan’s.
Because for tonight’s international competition, there were three spots, two of which were already secured.
The remaining dozen had to rely on audience votes to decide who could advance to the next round.
Soon, Zhou Jing came over, holding a folder, and stood in front of everyone.
Seeing Zhou Jing, the dozen waiting contestants looked hesitant, faces full of expectation.
“I wonder who’ll advance in the end.”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s definitely that monk named Miao Chunge.”
Miao Chunge was Wang Zhanwen’s junior brother; both hailed from Shaolin.
Although Miao Chunge was strong, he was slightly inferior to Wang Zhanwen, hence ended up in the waiting group.
And these waiting contestants knew that Miao Chunge was the strongest among them.
“The last spot is determined by voting, it’s not necessarily about who’s the strongest, and it might not be him.”
“You think the TV station people are fools? They’ll definitely pick the strongest to compete, so the voting’s just a gimmick, the last spot’s definitely his.”
“True, since it’s an international competition, they want the strongest, otherwise it’d be embarrassing.”
Hearing everyone’s discussions, Miao Chunge felt elated, confident in victory.
“Thank you all for waiting, the results are out.”
Zhou Jing spoke, and the murmuring subsided, the dozen waiting contestants fixated on her.
Zhou Jing, looking official, said while holding the folder:
“Through audience votes, the last person advancing is Lin Yi. Thank you all for your patience, and hard work.”
With a slight bow to express gratitude, Zhou Jing prepared to leave.
“Director, hold on!”
Someone stopped Zhou Jing, preventing her from leaving.
“Hmm? Who is this person? I don’t have any impression,” a short man said.
“This…”
A hint of trouble flashed on Zhou Jing’s face, but she concealed it well.
“He participated in several rounds before, but you weren’t present, so you didn’t see him.”
“That’s unlikely,” the short man said:
“I’ve been to every prior recording, I remember everyone, but I’ve never heard of the person you’re mentioning.”
“We don’t have an impression either.”
Others chimed in, “I can pretty much name everyone here, but the person you mentioned isn’t among us.”
“He’ll be here soon.”
“What’s going on, the person’s not even here?” the short man said:
“I think this is a setup by you, bringing in your own person this way?”
Exposed, Zhou Jing felt a sense of regret; people were getting harder to fool.
“It’s not what you think, he earned the audience’s recognition through his own skill,” Zhou Jing calmly said.
“Don’t try to fool us, this is rigged!”
“Rigged!”
“Rigged!”
“Rigged!”
Led by the short man, others joined in the chant, throwing the backstage into chaos.