Expression Management

The rehearsal room fell silent again.

If someone were more emotionally sensitive, constantly watching the atmosphere sour because of them, they probably would never want to come back. But Yu Mao never thought about things like that.

She only felt a little uncomfortable with so many people crowding in front of her.

As she was thinking, Wei Zhiyu spoke up.

“Are you okay now? Does anything still hurt?”

Yu Mao opened her mouth, then shook her head. “I’m fine.”

She thought telling the truth would only upset people and make her seem ungrateful.

But in everyone else’s eyes, her hesitation and dazed expression clearly meant she still hadn’t fully shaken off the shock.

And in her current state, she really was extremely sensitive to even the slightest disturbance.

So when Yirui An reached out, wanting to pat her head in comfort, Yu Mao’s reaction of resistance and avoidance was even stronger than before.

Her body pressed against the wall; when she tilted her head back, the back of it knocked against the wall, but she didn’t care. Her gaze turned sharp and wary.

Before she realized it, a low, catlike growl slipped from her throat as a warning. It vanished almost immediately, so brief it was barely there.

The others wore slightly confused expressions and only thought they’d imagined it.

But Yirui An was standing so close that she heard it clearly. A trace of fear flashed across her face as she widened her eyes and stared at Yu Mao in shock.

A few seconds later, she suddenly laughed. Excitement burst into her eyes, so intense it was almost delirious.

The look was strange, as if she were staring at some astonishing monster, yet it was also tinged with tenderness and pity, as though she wanted to reassure Yu Mao that she meant no harm.

“Little cat, you really are a little cat…”

Because she was desperately suppressing her own frenzy, her tone had turned so odd that it sounded almost creepy.

But no matter how incomprehensible her emotions were, none of it drew even the slightest attention from Yu Mao.

Yu Mao remained unmoved, while the livestream audience exploded.

The audio pickup was even closer than Yirui An; once the phone volume was turned up, the sound came through as clearly as if it were right beside their ears.

[…Am I hallucinating? Damn, Yu Mao wouldn’t actually be a cat spirit, would she?]

[She scared me. She really does sound way too much like a cat. I didn’t react at first and thought someone had pissed off my house cat again.]

[She already doesn’t seem like a normal person. If she were actually a cat turned human, that would make more sense…]

[I’m kind of scared, seriously… I’ve got goosebumps all over. Can someone explain whether a human vocal cord can even make that kind of sound?]

[It definitely can. Think of ventriloquists—what weird noises can’t they make? The world’s huge, and there are plenty of talented oddballs. Don’t overthink it.]

[But if she’s this obviously mentally unstable, does the production team really plan to keep her? Aren’t they afraid something will happen?]

Of course, the director’s team had considered that too.

There were indeed some concerns, but how could the director bear to let her go? Someone like this—if handled well in the entertainment industry—would be a nonstop source of traffic.

Whether it was people who liked oddities, people who liked pretty faces, or people curious about Yu Mao’s past, there were endless ways to draw them in.

Last night, a clip of Yu Mao sneaking around and peeking through the door of Nan Changgeng’s rehearsal room had been screen-recorded and edited into a video. It blew up online, and today the livestream reached a new peak in popularity. The director’s team was grinning from ear to ear; this little bit of risk was absolutely worth it.

Besides, Yu Mao’s negotiation with the director’s team on the first day had already given them a dose of reassurance.

They knew her thinking and intelligence were completely normal, and so far there had been no sign of her losing her mind or hurting anyone. She was nowhere near a point where they needed to be on guard.

Since everyone’s attention had been drawn by Yu Mao, the audience ignored Yirui An’s odd reaction.

But the contestants had noticed something was off and asked Yirui An what she meant.

Yirui An only gave a mysterious shake of her head and smiled as she stood up, refusing to answer.

“Nothing. Don’t you think she really looks like a cat?”

“She does,” Yuan Li said, lowering her head to glance at the fluffy, messy top of Yu Mao’s head, then forcing down the urge to reach out and ruffle it.

Lin Baiyu came over at just that moment.

“Hello, everybody!”

Brimming with energy, she bounced in and waved hello. Then, a second later, she froze when she noticed everyone in the room clustered together, surrounding the person by the wall; not far away, an electronic keyboard was lying on the floor.

“What are you all doing?”

She shuffled inside and peered through the gaps in the crowd, spotting her pitiful little student curled up into a ball.

“Something unexpected just happened. It’s nothing—let’s get started.”

Yuan Li pulled Lin Baiyu over and waved the others away, telling them to go do whatever they were supposed to be doing. “Since she’s fine, stop crowding around. Have you finished practicing the song?”

The group dispersed. Wei Zhiyu went to help the keyboard upright; one corner had fallen and cracked in two places, but it wasn’t broken and still played normally.

Yirui An passed by, glanced at it, and stuck her tongue out at the camera. “Don’t worry, Director. I’ll pay for it.”

Xu Yang looked even gloomier than before, flopping into a chair like a ghost and staring at her for two seconds before sighing. “I’m responsible too. I’ll pay half.”

She was only eighteen and didn’t have a job, so her income depended entirely on red envelopes during the holidays and New Year. Now her little savings stash was about to shrink again; it hurt.

That money could buy her a lot of merchandise. She’d recorded a whole show and earned nothing, and now she even had to chip in out of pocket. Unlucky.

People with money didn’t understand her sorrow, like Lin Baiyu.

All she cared about was what exactly had happened here before she arrived.

These people were all made of stone; nobody wanted to satisfy her curiosity. It was making her itch with frustration, and she regretted it terribly.

If only she had come a little earlier, she could have caught this excitement too.

Sensing Lin Baiyu’s restless curiosity, Yuan Li could only sigh helplessly.

It wasn’t that they refused to explain; it was just that… it was hard to describe.

“If you really want to know, you can watch the replay after the show, or have Yu Mao tell you.”

“It’ll be ages before the show is over! I might’ve forgotten it all by then. No way, no way.” Lin Baiyu shook her head repeatedly, then looked at Yu Mao pitifully. “You tell me. Count it as payment for me teaching you expression management.”

Yu Mao didn’t understand why that counted as payment, but she showed little reaction and nodded calmly. “Okay.”

She had been crouching for too long, so she sat down cross-legged on the floor and gave a concise explanation. “Xu Yang was chasing Yirui An. Yirui An knocked over the keyboard. I got scared by the noise, and they all came over to comfort me.”

Lin Baiyu: “……”

Yuan Li: “……”

“That’s it?” Lin Baiyu looked blank, then speechless, and turned to Yuan Li. “Was it really worth it for you all to keep it secret over something this small? You weren’t messing with me on purpose, were you?”

“Th-this…” Yuan Li twitched at the corner of her mouth, utterly unable to talk her way out of it.

That was true enough, but… forget it. Leave it at that.

“Let’s get down to business.” She gave up on arguing any further.

Lin Baiyu frowned thoughtfully, but she had no time to think about it more. “Then let’s go. Over to the mirror.”

Expression management naturally required a mirror.

The three of them moved together to the wall of mirrors. Lin Baiyu leaned against it, crossed her arms, and studied Yu Mao’s face.

“First, smile for me and let me take a look.”

Yu Mao did as told, curling her lips up stiffly, as if some invisible hand had lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Hiss…” Lin Baiyu sucked in a breath.

It was only a fake smile, so why did it look so strange when Yu Mao did it?

She had heard Yuan Li talk about Yu Mao’s situation, but she’d still doubted the description. Now that she’d seen it for herself, she finally believed Yu Mao really could give people the creeps.

After thinking for a moment, she gave her a fair assessment: “It feels like a doll has come to life and is giving humans an eerie little smile.”

Yu Mao’s smile disappeared at once.

“Does it look really scary?”

She frowned, lowering her eyes sadly.

She thought of the smile she had worked so hard to show when greeting Nan Changgeng yesterday.

If it had scared him, then it had been a total failure; she deserved death for it.

As soon as her emotions showed, Yu Mao actually looked more alive than when she was smiling.

Yuan Li hurried to comfort her. “It’s okay, really. It’s only a smile. You’re so pretty—how scary could you possibly be?”

“Right, I’ll teach you. When you smile, you can’t just move the corners of your mouth; you have to use the muscles around your eyes too, or anyone can tell it’s fake at a glance.”

Lin Baiyu demonstrated for her, flashing a standard bright business smile, making sure the curve of her lips and the slight bend of her brows and eyes were all at their most beautiful—generous and radiant, yet still subtly restrained.

“You try it. Remember to use the muscles around your eyes; let your brows and eyes bend downward.”

Yu Mao tried to imitate her, looking at her own strange expression in the mirror and finding it very difficult.

Lin Baiyu kept correcting her:

“Hey, don’t frown.”

“Be more natural; you’re using too much force, and your eyes are squinting too much.”

“Ahh, don’t make your gaze so fierce!”

After several adjustments, Lin Baiyu was getting a little tired, and Yu Mao finally managed a standard smile, the corners of her mouth lifted and her brows and eyes slightly curved.

But…

Lin Baiyu rubbed her arms and suddenly shivered.

She couldn’t even say exactly what was wrong with it. From her point of view, Yu Mao had clearly done it well, so why did it still feel off?

Looking at Yu Mao’s smiling face, she couldn’t sense any emotion from her at all. That expression was like a frozen mask stuck to her face, creepy as hell.

It was somewhat like the uncanny dolls in horror movies, the ones deliberately made with smiling faces.

Yuan Li knew Yu Mao best, so she immediately pointed out the truth: “She’s still lacking emotion. Her gaze is too empty; no matter how she adjusts the muscles in her face, it stays superficial. If anything, it looks colder than having no expression at all.”

Lin Baiyu had an epiphany at the reminder.

She rubbed her forehead in frustration and waved a hand. “Forget it, let’s stop here for now. I really can’t do anything about this.”

Expression management couldn’t help someone change the look in their eyes; she wasn’t an actress.

But since she’d promised to help, she had to see it through. Lin Baiyu thought for a moment, then her eyes suddenly lit up and she smiled.

“Even if I can’t, I know how to call for backup! Don’t worry, I’ll bring in reinforcements later and guarantee they solve the problem from the source; they’ll teach you how to sing directly.”

“Who are you going to find?”

Yuan Li asked, but in her heart, she already had a vague premonition.