The Boss’s Secret

Versatile Performer

Their dormitory was a fair distance from the training room. As they walked towards it, the early morning light illuminated their path. Lancy and Kelly finished their breakfast on the go.

“My mom will freak out if she sees the livestream! This is the first time I’ve eaten breakfast so messily on camera. The comments are going to be brutal,” Katie remarked, a bit embarrassed, as they approached the training room.

Lancy shrugged nonchalantly, laughing. “Whatever they say, we can’t see it right now anyway.”

Once upstairs, Monica realized just how many participants were in this competition—one hundred trainees, but only five would make it through to debut. The hall was buzzing with noise, filled with contestants from all over, their faces a mix of nerves and anticipation.

With so few spots, the competition was fierce.

Monica fell into deep thought.

The fitness instructor clapped her hands in the training room, calling, “Alright, everyone, come in.”

The sound echoed through the spacious room, and everyone quickly assembled.

Since the contest was organized by a tech company, Alexander Knight lacked connections in the entertainment and fashion industries. To insiders, this show seemed like a whimsical venture by a tech mogul. Consequently, most industry professionals were skeptical about the program. The contestants were mostly internet influencers groomed by the company, struggling artists, or newly signed talents sent as a goodwill gesture, hoping for future collaborations with Alexander.

There were even a few amateurs who, after seeing the competition online, joined to chase their dreams or challenge themselves. Most of them had no dance training and were relying solely on their good looks. Now, they were forced to practice stretches and backbends, their sweat soaking through their training clothes, making them look quite disheveled.

For most, this was the most grueling class. Their faces contorted with pain, and occasional groans of discomfort filled the room.

Of course, there were exceptions…

Thanks to the Visconti family’s rigorous physical training from an early age, Monica’s body was exceptionally flexible. She lifted her leg gracefully, placing it on the barre, bending sideways, and lowering her head until her fingertips lightly touched her toes. Her back, neck, and leg formed beautiful lines, even her fingers exuding elegance. While others were still struggling with their stretches, she had already finished hers and smoothly flipped backward into a perfect backbend. Her movements were like those of a graceful swan, light and effortless.

Not to be outdone, Wendy, who often clashed with Monica, showcased her exceptional skills. She approached the barre and effortlessly lifted one leg, her movements as fluid as water. Her leg traced a perfect arc in the air before settling steadily on the barre. Her physical strength and flexibility were outstanding, and her movements were both solid and powerful.

The posture instructor’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two of them, a slight smile playing on their lips, clearly pleased with their performances.

Calling them over, the instructor asked, “Have you both had dance training?”

Monica replied, “A little bit.”

Wendy added, “I’ve learned gymnastics.”

The instructor nodded approvingly at both of them. “You two, demonstrate in front.”

Monica and Wendy walked to the center of the room, exchanging a glance under the bright lights. They took a deep breath and began their demonstration.

Following the instructor’s directions, Monica walked from one end of the training room to the other. Her steps were light and graceful, her shoulders relaxed, and her body upright. Reaching the end, she turned elegantly and walked toward a table. Bending down, she picked up a glass of water, her long fingers contrasting beautifully with the clear glass. She straightened up and walked back to her original position, her posture impeccable, her neck elongated, and her gaze steady as she sat down.

Wendy followed right behind her, her walk infused with a hint of athletic strength yet still graceful. She reached the other end of the room, turned with clean, sharp movements, and also bent down to pick up a glass of water, her actions natural and powerful. Returning to her seat, she crossed her legs, back straight, exuding confidence and poise.

The focus was on their walking, sitting, and standing postures.

Other contestants watched enviously, murmuring, “They have such noble bearing,” and “Like ballet dancers…”

The instructor observed with satisfaction, nodding approvingly. “Excellent, your fundamentals are solid. Keep maintaining this standard. Remember, posture training is not just about displaying poise but also about externalizing inner confidence.”

After the assessment, forty girls were selected, including Kelly and Lancy.

They were directed to the next training room for dance practice, while the rest continued with their posture training.

Monica had been confident, but when it came to the dance segment, things started to go awry.

The music started, a rhythmic hip-hop track, and the lights flashed in sync with the beat, transforming the entire space into a massive stage. The instructor’s figure stood out, dazzling under the lights.

He began a mesmerizing dance routine, his movements clean and sharp, each step seemingly defying gravity, each turn brimming with power and control.

Wendy stood there, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. She raised her chin slightly, admitting to herself that the dance was impressive, but outwardly she commented casually, “Hmm, this dance… it’s somewhat interesting.”

Monica turned to look at her, the corner of her mouth twitching in exasperation.

She then turned back, her eyes fixed intently on the instructor, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She tried to mimic the instructor’s movements but found that her arms couldn’t achieve that effortless fluidity. Every move felt like a struggle, a test of her limits. Despite her dance background, her body felt bound and awkward, each motion clumsy and constrained.

Her mood mirrored her steps, transforming from a graceful waltz into a frantic tap dance. Her internal monologue was more dramatic than any TV show; she suddenly felt like a fish on a chopping board—stiff, helpless, unable to even flip over.

Sweat trickled down her forehead, her heartbeat racing in sync with the music. She stole a glance at the others, the mirrors reflecting her and the other contestants’ tense faces. She saw that some were struggling even more than she was, their movements either playing hide-and-seek with the rhythm or looking like a tug-of-war with their bodies. This gave her a slight sense of relief but also heightened her anxiety.

Every move seemed to rebel against her, her body telling her, “You don’t belong here.” She tried to move naturally, but the mirror showed her clumsiness.

Wendy, on the other hand, was completely different. Perhaps it was her gymnastics background that freed her from the limitations usually faced by dancers from other styles when learning hip-hop, or maybe it was her extraordinary talent. Her movements were precise, every beat perfectly timed as if her body was made for hip-hop. While others might need to practice repeatedly, Wendy only needed three tries to achieve near-perfect execution.

The dance instructor couldn’t praise her enough. “Wendy, you were amazing today. You can take a break early. While you’re resting, feel free to check out some other dances on here and familiarize yourself with them,” he said, handing her an iPad.

Everyone else: “…”

Wendy took the iPad, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Before leaving, she deliberately glanced at Monica, lifting her chin in a way that only the two of them could understand, as if to say, “See, this is my skill.”

Monica: “…”

She was speechless, distressed, and felt an unprecedented sense of defeat.

After finally enduring her struggle with her limbs, Monica barely made it to the evening vocal class. She was so exhausted that her walk felt like she was floating as if her soul had left her body, leaving behind a tired shell.

The teacher had heard about a particularly outstanding girl and asked Wendy to demonstrate first.

“We focus on pop singing techniques here. Sing a few lines for us,” the teacher said. The air in the classroom seemed to freeze, and all eyes turned to Wendy.

Wendy, with her signature pride, walked confidently to the front. She took a deep breath and began to sing. Her voice was clear and penetrating, with every note perfectly placed.

When she finished, the other students looked at each other in astonishment. She had posture training, and a background in dance, and now she could sing amazingly too! Is effort worthless compared to talent? My God!

“Your range is wide, and your tone is pleasant,” the vocal teacher nodded in approval.

Wendy smirked, her eyes showing self-satisfied confidence as if to say, “This is me, unbeatable.”

“But…” the vocal teacher continued, “You have technique, but you lack emotional expression. It’s okay, just practice more and find the feeling.”

Wendy’s eyes briefly flashed with displeasure, but she quickly regained her confident demeanor. She nodded slightly, accepting the teacher’s advice. Then, with a provocative smile, she turned to Monica and said, “Teacher, could Monica also give us a demonstration? Her singing is very popular in our dorm.”

The teacher frowned but said nothing. This competition was inherently about rivalry, so he called Monica’s name and invited her to the stage.

Monica was caught off guard by this sudden nomination. She was so tired and had hoped to slack off during the vocal class. But she could sense the provocation in Wendy’s words. Feeling both challenged and annoyed, Monica knew she couldn’t lose her composure in front of everyone. She stood up, with a barely noticeable cold smile, and walked gracefully to the front.

She gently parted her lips, her voice sweet and pure, like the first ray of morning sunlight, warm and bright, filling every corner of the classroom. Her voice was clear, like a mountain spring, flowing gently, with each note brimming with vitality.

Her singing was not just a display of technique but an emotional expression. Her voice carried an indescribable charm, touching the softest parts of the listeners’ hearts. Her song echoed through the classroom like a gentle breeze, dispelling all tension and fatigue.

Wendy’s eyes widened in astonishment. She remembered that the last time they competed, Monica’s performance wasn’t this outstanding.

The vocal teacher was also moved by the unexpectedly beautiful voice. After a moment of silence, he said, “Your voice is very captivating, truly one in a thousand.”

As the teacher finished his critique, Wendy raised an eyebrow slightly, thinking, “Has she been hiding her true ability all this time? Why? This competition just got a lot more interesting.”