I can give you a stage performance that you will remember for the rest of your life.

Once the teammates and the second round’s theme were confirmed, the production team ceased making further arrangements. The contestants departed in pairs; most were unfamiliar with rap, their faces etched with confusion and anxiety as they whispered to each other in low voices.

Only Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao parted ways with effortless understanding.

[Are they not even pretending anymore?]

[If I were Ji Fanxing, I’d cling to Chu Hao now—he’s a professional rapper.]

[Hasn’t anyone noticed? Not only Ji Fanxing, but none of the other contestants have approached Chu Hao for rap advice. He’s almost too cool.]

[Two lone wolves teamed up—interesting.]

Both Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao knew they were not ones to compromise. Forcing themselves to collaborate now would only breed resistance; better to prepare separately at home.

They would let their abilities prove who was the alpha wolf of the group.

Confident, Ji Fanxing wasn’t in a hurry to compose. She returned to her room, leaned against the sofa, a slight frown creasing her brow.

The glint from Song Qing’s delicate pendant lingered stubbornly in her mind.

Though her earlier inquiry had seemed casual, she’d been gauging Song Qing’s reaction. As expected, Song Qing’s awkward attempt to conceal the truth confirmed it wasn’t merely a decorative piece.

Ji Fanxing took out her phone, fingers gliding across the screen, searching the keywords: “Ji Fanxing harms Ji Shengxue.”

The maliciously edited video, used to slander and accuse her and Ning Ze of harming her older sister, quickly surfaced.

The moment she opened the video, a stream of hateful comments against her and Ning Ze cascaded across the screen.

The footage was from a coffee shop’s surveillance camera, poorly lit, full of noise, with the lens aimed directly at Ji Fanxing and Ning Ze, their features barely discernible.

In the video, Ji Fanxing spoke, then Ning Ze slammed the table in anger, his voice raised in cursing, accompanied by helpful subtitles:

“She only hurt her leg, but you’ve lost all your resources! Don’t they know how hard you worked for this role?!”

Even this brief sentence was muffled, only the subtitles matching a few lip movements.

She and Ning Ze were subjected to online judgment.

At the time, the barrage of insults wounded her deeply; unable to defend herself, she avoided it altogether.

Now, Ji Fanxing calmly turned off the scrolling comments.

Her gaze was sharp and focused, examining each frame of the video with surgical precision.

After her rebirth, her mind had been strengthened; even fragmentary memories could be recalled if triggered by the right clue.

Sure enough, she quickly pinpointed a moment that lasted barely a fraction of a second.

A sharp “click” as she paused the video, revealing a blurry figure in the background—there, unmistakably, was the glimmer of the pendant.

A faint, enigmatic smile curled Ji Fanxing’s lips; she was not surprised.

“Song Qing.”

The pendant frozen on her phone screen matched Song Qing’s perfectly; that angel pendant was not a common design, impossible to explain as mere coincidence.

Unfortunately, the incident had already run its course; the crowd had dispersed after their frenzy, and no one cared about what came next.

Moreover, such tenuous evidence could hardly convince the public.

Even if the truth were revealed now, the labels branded onto her and Ning Ze would be nearly impossible to remove.

She memorized this clue, waiting for the right moment to expose the truth.

As for why Song Qing had done it?

Ji Fanxing didn’t care. She hadn’t been a police officer for centuries, and had long since stopped probing into the motives of criminals.

She only needed to know that, in her previous life, this “Thunder God’s Hammer” had cemented the rumors of her harming her elder sister, triggering a chain of tragic consequences.

It had even ruined Ning Ze’s acting career. Though things had started anew, he remained trapped in fraudulent schemes.

Hurt was hurt—there was no need to search for excuses.

The next morning, Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao each stood at the recording studio’s entrance, sheet music in hand.

Their eyes, sharp as blades, clashed in the air.

“You’re here too.” Chu Hao’s mouth curled into a cold smile, gripping his self-written rap score tightly. He wore black as always, stripped of the usual hip-hop accessories, making him seem even more unapproachable.

Ji Fanxing raised her eyebrows lightly. “Seems neither of us is the type to procrastinate.”

They entered the recording studio, surrounded by sealed soundproof walls and dim, soft lighting.

This was the battlefield for their contest.

Chu Hao spoke first. “I know you’re capable, Ji Fanxing. But rap…” He paused. “Follow my rhythm, and we’re guaranteed to win.”

“Guaranteed?” Ji Fanxing replied, without a trace of mockery:

“If we compete only for victory, then what meaning is there in winning?”

Chu Hao frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

Ji Fanxing’s tone was calm and resolute as she waved her sheet music. “My song will give you an unforgettable stage and a brand-new rap experience—”

“Stop.” Chu Hao cut her off. “I only trust results. If you can prove it…”

Ji Fanxing nodded. “Let’s prove it with our work.”

She handed him a copy of her score. “Here, sing mine first.”

Chu Hao eyed the sheet, much thicker than his own, his brow twitching. “Why?”

“Because I’m the King,” Ji Fanxing answered matter-of-factly.

There’s no King here! Chu Hao bristled, but as he glanced at Ji Fanxing’s expectant eyes in the soft light, she said, “Try it—you’ll love this song.”

The retort almost left his lips, but he swallowed it. “Fine, let’s try.”

Season One of “The King of Music” had its first stage recording released early the previous night.

As soon as it went online, hordes of viewers flocked to watch.

[I heard there’s a legendary song here! Checking in!]

[I came just for the drama between the sisters! So many people! Which one is Ji Fanxing? Where’s Ji Shengxue???]

[For love songs, Ji Fanxing is my king!]

[Stupid production team—release the first episode! I want to hear “The Fleeting Years”!]

[Wow, this show is so long! Where’s Ji Fanxing?! Command HQ, send support!]

[Coordinates: Here! Ji Fanxing’s highlight at 32:15! First stage performance: Next episode, around 10 minutes! “Escape from Love and Moon” is amazing! Everyone, go listen!!]

Within an hour of going live, Ji Fanxing’s rendition of “Escape from Love and Moon” once again topped all trending lists, while downloads of the live audio surpassed a million, with numbers still climbing.

Nearly every viewer who watched the show couldn’t resist downloading and saving the song.

The live version cost just one yuan to download. Of this, the copyright holder Fang Zhijing received seventy percent, the production team twenty percent, and the performer Ji Fanxing, since it was a cover, received nothing; the remainder also went to Fang Zhijing.

Professor Fang, sitting at home, thus amassed a fortune.

For a long time to come, Ji Fanxing’s version of “Escape from Love and Moon” would surpass “This Life’s Bright Moon,” becoming another “iron rice bowl” for Fang Zhijing.

Though Ji Fanxing wasn’t the original singer, from now on, “Escape from Love and Moon” would become a song no one dared to attempt except her.

No one mentioned anymore that the song was originally tailored for Ji Shengxue.

But that was all for later.

In the live broadcast room of “The King of Music,” the cameraman diligently carried his equipment among the various duos, while contestants on screen struggled over song selection.

Each pair had a different dynamic—some harmonious, some dominated by one side, others engaged in open or covert rivalry.

Ordinarily, this would be a highlight, but at the moment, the audience was distracted, their comments focused on the recording studio, which the cameraman couldn’t enter.

[They’ve been in there so long and still haven’t come out…]

[Did they start fighting?!]

[Cameraman! I want to see a fight! Hurry up!]

Inside the studio, Chu Hao, having finished singing the entire song, stood there, heart pounding like a drum, every note surging through his veins.

“You… this song…” His throat was dry, his gaze complicated as he stared at Ji Fanxing.

Ji Fanxing merely watched him, not a hint of pride in her eyes, only anticipation and seriousness. “Well?” she asked softly.

When Chu Hao didn’t reply, she continued, “Now it’s time for your song.”

“No need,” Chu Hao snapped back to reality, putting away his sheet music, tinged with reluctant admiration.

“We’ll use yours.”

“Let’s work well together.”

Ji Fanxing was very satisfied with her clever teammate, and extended her hand in goodwill.

Chu Hao hesitated for a moment, then shook her hand.

While Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao had settled on their song and established a “friendly” partnership, other duos were on the verge of falling out.

“Take these, stop arguing, just follow my lead.”

Song Qing impatiently shoved the reviewed song list at her chattering teammate, frowning as she sifted through the options, paying no heed to her partner’s opinions.

Her teammate’s arms were already full, and her anger was reaching its peak.

Since pairing up yesterday, Song Qing had been dismissive, now bossily ordering her around.

“You think you’re Ji Fanxing? You didn’t even grab the King spot, so why should we listen to you for everything?!”

She shouted, flung the song list to the floor, and stormed off in anger.

I’m done with you!

Song lists scattered everywhere; Song Qing was left speechless.

After a long moment, she crouched to pick up the papers one by one, but her teammate’s words pierced her heart like a thorn.

After “Confession Envelope: Special Edition” was ridiculed online, Ren Feichang promptly distanced himself, publicly claiming that the poor adaptation was due to the song’s inherent flaws.

Her painstaking work was compared unfavorably to “Confession Balloon,” criticized mercilessly.

“Ji Fanxing! Always Ji Fanxing!”

Song Qing’s heart brimmed with hatred for Ji Fanxing, suppressing her urge to roar, “If only you didn’t exist…”

“You hate Ji Fanxing too?” A male voice sounded from above, startling Song Qing. She looked up at the backlit man, finding him vaguely familiar.

“You are…?”