The mission arrived not as a notification, but as a cheerful suggestion over breakfast.
"Host, your physical stamina is progressing in controlled conditions."
"Time for a field test."
"Today, you will accompany Aunty Zhang on her weekly market run."
Bai Xingyue looked up from his congee, blinking.
"The market? But… I have art history notes to…"
"The greatest art is human observation," Xiao Zhu interrupted, its voice bright.
"And you will be carrying approximately 15 kilograms of groceries up three flights of stairs at the wet market on Qinghe Street because the elevator is perpetually broken."
"This is an excellent, functional stamina drill. Also, you will be practicing crowd navigation and low-stakes charisma. It's a multi-tool outing!"
Seeing aunty Zhang passing by with a tea tray, he inquired of her, expecting her to as always shield him.
He was however awarded a matronly nod.
"Fresh air is good for you, Young Master. And an extra pair of hands is always useful."
And that was how Bai Xingyue, heir to the Bai fortune, found himself an hour later standing awkwardly in the bustling, cacophonous chaos of the Qinghe Street Wet Market.
The air was thick with the smell of live fish, ripe fruit, and frying dough.
It was a sensory overload, a universe away from the sanitized, air-conditioned supermarkets his family usually used.
"Primary Objective: Endurance. You will carry all non-perishable items."
"Secondary Objective: Environmental Awareness. I will quiz you on details."
"Tertiary Objective: Micro-Charisma. You will initiate polite, brief exchanges with no fewer than three vendors."
Aunty Zhang, in her element, became a savvy general.
She haggled over river shrimp, her voice sharp and friendly.
She thumped melons and sniffed greens.
Xingyue followed, a large reusable bag already growing heavy with bottles of oil and bags of rice.
The stamina test was immediate.
The bag dug into his shoulder.
The three flights of stairs at the old market building were steep, worn concrete.
His dance training had built lean muscle, but this was a different kind of burn—a constant, grinding load.
Xiao Zhu monitored him clinically.
"Posture is sagging. Engage your core as if you are mid-plank. Distribute the weight."
"This isn't a burden; it's a weighted vest. A very… organic one."
He adjusted, tightening his stomach, finding a balance. It was still hard, but it felt intentional.
A training exercise, not a chore.
The perception drills began as they moved to the fruit stalls.
"Quick. Without looking: What color is the apron of the tofu seller two stalls back?"
Bai Xingyue, sweating slightly, frowned.
He'd been focused on not dropping the eggs Aunty Zhang had just handed him.
"Um… blue?"
"Incorrect. It is a faded grey with a red chicken logo."
"You must learn to see peripherally."
"An idol must be aware of their entire environment—photographers, fans, hazards—while performing a focused task."
"Look without looking."
It was maddening.
He tried to expand his awareness as they moved, taking in snippets: the grumpy expression of the dried goods vendor, the specific way Aunty Zhang tied her change purse, the pattern of cracks in the tile floor.
He felt like a camera lens constantly trying to adjust its depth of field.
Then came the charisma test.
Aunty Zhang stopped at a stall selling homemade pickles and fermented sauces.
The vendor, an old woman with a deeply lined face, looked stern.
"Initiate exchange. Compliment a product. Make it specific."
Xingyue froze.
Talking to tutors or friends was one thing.
This was different.
He cleared his throat, pointing to a jar of something dark and leafy.
"Auntie, that chili oil with the black beans… it looks very fragrant. Does it have Sichuan peppercorn?"
The old woman's eyes flicked to him, then to Aunty Zhang, then back.
A slight thaw.
"Good nose. It does. My own blend. Not too brutal for a young master's stomach."
It wasn't warmth, but it was acknowledgment.
Aunty Zhang looked pleasantly surprised.
"Adequate. Specificity bypasses generic flattery. Remember this."
They moved on.
He managed a brief, smiling "thank you" to a young man who helped stack a heavy bag of flour.
He asked the egg seller about the difference between her brown and white eggs, listening intently to her proud explanation about her free-range chickens.
It was small talk, but he approached it with the focus of a student, learning to project approachable, genuine interest—a foundational idol skill.
The real test came unexpectedly.
As they were leaving, a commotion erupted near the entrance.
A delivery trike had tipped over, spilling crates of cabbages across the narrow aisle.
The driver was red-faced, flustered, trying to stop traffic and pick them up simultaneously.
A bottleneck formed, and grumbling started.
"Scenario: Unplanned obstacle causing crowd discontent. This is a PR incident in miniature."
"Option A: Look away, it's not your problem. Option B: Assist. Calculate the charisma ROI."
Without a second thought, Xingyue handed his bags to a wide-eyed Aunty Zhang.
"One moment."
He walked over, not to the center, but to the edge of the spill.
He didn't try to direct traffic.
He simply started picking up cabbages that had rolled toward the crowd, stacking them neatly back into an intact crate.
He didn't speak.
He acted, moving with a quiet, efficient focus.
His actions were a signal.
Two other shoppers, seeing the well-dressed young man quietly helping, stepped forward.
Then another.
In thirty seconds, the cabbages were cleared, the trike righted, and the flow of people resumed.
The delivery driver nodded at him, a world of relief in his eyes.
Bai Xingyue walked back to Aunty Zhang, dusting his hands on his pants.
She was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.
"That was… very kind, Young Master."
[Analysis: Action selected. Result: Diffused a minor crowd crisis, generated positive bystander impression, minimal energy expenditure.]
[Charisma ROI: High. You led by doing, not by speaking. A powerful tool.]
Xiao Zhu's tone held a hint of… satisfaction.
"Also, you maintained excellent core engagement while lifting cabbages. Stamina score: B+."
The walk home was quieter.
The bags were heavy, his muscles sang with fatigue, but his mind was clear.
He'd done something.
Applied his training in the real, messy world.
It felt more concrete than any perfect note held in the studio.
That night, after his usual drills, Xiao Zhu was in a particularly good mood during their off-hours rhythm game.
"Today's field exercise yielded a 12% increase in practical stress adaptation.
"Also, I have procured a fun fact: The legendary idol group 'Eclipse' once had to film a variety segment in a fish market."
"Their leader, famous for his princely image, accidentally swallowed a live shrimp during a challenge."
"His look of betrayed dignity became a legendary meme and increased their relatability by 300%. Sometimes, the best charisma is unplanned humility."
Xingyue laughed, losing the game spectacularly as he was distracted by the image.
"So you're saying I should swallow a live shrimp?"
"I am saying that competence under mundane duress is the bedrock of grace under spotlight duress."
"You did well today, Host. You carried weight, you saw your surroundings, you were kind without seeking reward."
"These are not just idol tools. They are the tools of a good person. It is… efficient to be both."
The system's light pulsed a soft, warm gold.
In that moment, it wasn't a coach or a quirky friend.
It felt like a guardian, shaping him for a stage he couldn't yet see, but making sure the person walking onto it would be someone worth watching.
Bai Xingyue lay in bed, his body aching from groceries and dance drills, his mind full of chili oil, cabbage rolls, and the grateful nod of a stranger.
The path to becoming a top idol, it seemed, was paved with very human steps.