16. Is Ji Fanxing lip-syncing?

The online streaming numbers for "The All-Round Singer" had already shattered multiple records. With the outstanding performance of "Fate and Romance" as a foundation, Ji Fanxing’s four love songs only heightened the audience’s anticipation. The recording of the first episode was set to be released after the live broadcast of the second episode. Online reservations had exceeded one hundred million.

But on the eve of the second episode's recording, a scandal broke: Ji Fanxing’s sensational debut performance of "Fate and Romance" was accused of being lip-synced. Someone posted a censored video, their voice disguised by a modulator, vividly describing how Ji Fanxing allegedly threatened them to switch the audio source, faking her performance on stage.

Fraudulent singing was a grave offense on W-Star, considered an act of professional misconduct that could lead to a total ban once proven. As the news spread, some viewers who hadn’t watched the second episode’s live broadcast, driven by a backlash against Ji Fanxing’s days-long dominance of the trending lists, began to mock and deride her.

During a rehearsal break, Ji Fanxing scrolled through her phone, reading the messages:

[I don’t believe it! How could such a beautiful song be fake!]

[Finally, she’s exposed. I’m sick of seeing her everywhere these days!]

[Ji Fanxing never had much character to begin with. This kind of news isn’t surprising at all.]

It was as if Pandora’s box had been opened, unleashing a torrent of negativity. Keyboard warriors, as if discovering new territory, furiously pounded away from behind their screens, launching vicious attacks.

[I was her classmate—her singing was awful back then.]

[Anyone who watched the first episode knows it’s probably true. Those four songs were painfully simple, nothing like the level of "Fate and Romance."]

Comments like these flooded the screen, and a wave of people stormed her Weibo account to hurl insults. Her private message inbox had over ten thousand new messages.

Calmly, Ji Fanxing cleared them all with a single tap. She ignored the trolls, recognizing this as yet another smear campaign against her.

Soon enough, the situation escalated further. Unidentified paid commenters surfaced, exposing even more supposed details: the suspicious actions of the live sound engineer during her performance, several exchanged glances between Ji Fanxing and this person, and even the engineer’s subsequent reassignment was framed as the production team’s attempt to cover up the scandal.

The orchestrators behind the scenes were being too hasty; Ji Fanxing shook her head at their recklessness. In their eagerness to suppress her, they’d practically outed the sound engineer in the censored video.

She put her phone away. With just two days left until the recording and still in the midst of coordinating with Chu Hao, she had no time to deal with such crude online slander. She even left Ning Ze another message, urging him not to pay attention to the rumors.

She could already foresee how things would unfold. But once the second episode aired, those behind the scenes would learn what it meant to shoot themselves in the foot.

And sure enough, everything went as Ji Fanxing predicted. The paid commenters whipped the situation into a frenzy, turning what had been a mix of skepticism, concern, and anticipation into a nationwide public trial. The tide of public opinion turned harshly against Ji Fanxing. The louder the cheers for her had been before, the fiercer the backlash now. Adding fuel to the fire, past moral failings—like hurting her own sister—were dredged up.

The fickle masses began calling for her to withdraw from the competition.

#JiFanxingQuitShow# shot to the top of Weibo’s trending searches.

Within just two days, Ji Fanxing, whose reputation had only just begun to recover, was once again trapped in a mire.

Yet Ji Fanxing remained unfazed. The more furor they caused now, the more ridiculous they would appear tomorrow.

Meanwhile, in the dormitory on Robin Island, Song Qing was in high spirits. She would finally meet Xu Mo tomorrow. She picked up a bottle of perfume from the table and spritzed herself, the rich fragrance instantly lifting her mood.

Only after using it did she realize it belonged to Ji Shengxue. She felt a momentary jolt, but relaxed—after spending so much time as "equals," she’d come to see herself as no different from her fellow contestant.

Turning back, she offered Ji Shengxue a perfunctory apology. "Ah Xue, this perfume smells amazing. I just wanted to try it..."

"It’s fine. If you like it, you can have it," Ji Shengxue replied warmly, not the least bit bothered.

"Thank you, Ah Xue!" Song Qing happily tucked the perfume away. This was a limited edition—ordinary people couldn’t even buy it!

"As long as you’re happy." Ji Shengxue never hesitated to reward those useful to her.

Because the production team had yet to make a statement, the online backlash against Ji Fanxing began to spill over onto "King of All Singers" itself.

In a certain five-star hotel—

"Xu Mo, public opinion about 'King of All Singers' is terrible right now. Maybe we shouldn’t go?" His manager’s expression was grave. "There’s a local event invitation. We could just change plans..."

Xu Mo was scrolling through his phone, the screen full of scandals about Ji Fanxing. His brow was deeply furrowed.

"No. We gave our word—there’s no need to break it over something like this. Tomorrow’s schedule proceeds as planned."

In the "King of All Singers" conference room, after a whole day of emergency meetings, every participant looked exhausted.

"What did the sound engineer say?"

"He still insists he had nothing to do with it."

Leaning back, Liu Qi rubbed his throbbing temples. "The videos those paid posters released are highly suggestive. We can’t take his word at face value..."

"What matters most now is making sure tomorrow’s recording goes off without a hitch." He paused, then addressed the music director. "Once recording is over, suspend him pending investigation."

"Everyone, stick to the plan tomorrow and resolve this in one go. Meeting adjourned!"

The day of the second episode arrived as scheduled.

Even before the official broadcast began, a flood of viewers poured into the livestream, but most of the comments were hostile.

[Disgraced artists don’t deserve the stage! Ji Fanxing, get off!]

["King of All Singers" is done for! Even the notaries are covering up fraud!]

[...]

[The truth hasn’t come out yet! Can you not be so vicious? Fanxing really is a wonderful singer!]

A few scattered messages in support of Ji Fanxing were quickly drowned out.

[Hmph! I could tell from her debut that she wasn’t a good person. Why bother defending her?]

[Lip-syncers are blacklisted for life! Ji Fanxing, leave!]

Backstage, the staff bustled as usual, but the atmosphere was much more tense than before.

Ji Fanxing herself was not the least affected by the rumors. After finishing hair and makeup, she calmly prepared to take the stage.

As she rounded a corner, she brushed past a tall man in a staff uniform, mask, and low-brimmed cap. He moved quickly, head down, not sparing her a glance. Ji Fanxing immediately recognized him: the sound engineer who had given her a hard time at her first performance. One of the main conspirators, and clearly not doing well now.

Yes—one of them. She was certain this smear campaign wasn’t the work of just one person.

Wait. Ji Fanxing paused, turning to look again at his retreating figure. She had seen this scene somewhere before...

The opening of this episode was especially drawn out; the atmosphere, tainted by the lip-syncing scandal, was thick with unease.

When Ji Fanxing, as King, took the stage, the applause was sparse, as if everything had been reset to the beginning.

"Ji Fanxing! You can do it!"

In the dim audience, someone shouted.

"Fanxing! You’re the best!"

Another, sharper female voice quickly joined in.

With these two voices leading the way, a small cluster of fans in the crowd raised light boards for Ji Fanxing and cheered in unison.

"King! King! King!"

They were Ji Fanxing’s fans.

Those who had witnessed her true talent would never believe the lip-syncing rumors. Their voices were small, drowned out by the public’s prejudice, but they persisted in expressing their support and admiration in their own way.

For the first time, Ji Fanxing felt the walk to the secondary stage was so brief—she didn’t even have a chance to see their faces clearly.

Her heart was moved. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don’t you feel guilty?" A mocking voice interrupted her reverie.

"Huh?" Ji Fanxing looked up in surprise to see Xu Mo. She remembered he was now a guest mentor.

Under the stage lights, Xu Mo’s pupils glinted like glass. His voice was polished and elegant, but his words were sharp.

"To so calmly enjoy adoration gained through deceit—how can you?"

In his eyes, Ji Fanxing had lost her way, going further astray.

"What are you talking about?" Ji Fanxing raised an eyebrow.

She looked at Xu Mo. After a hundred lifetimes apart, seeing the man she had once loved to her core, she felt nothing.

"Xu Mo, do you think you’re a judge? Criticizing contestants at will before the show starts isn’t the behavior of a mentor."

"You—!" Xu Mo, usually so composed, was thrown off by her words.

Fortunately, Ji Shengxue hurried to pull him back.

"Let it go, Xu Mo. Fanxing just wants attention. There’s no need to be harsh..."

Ji Fanxing stared at Ji Shengxue’s hand. A sudden thought flashed through her mind, but the noisy scene distracted her, and she couldn’t quite grasp it.

She tried to piece it together—what was it...?

Her furrowed brow made it seem, to onlookers, as though she was hurt by the sight of someone she liked being close to her sister.

"Why are you just standing there? Come on, partner." A large hand settled on her shoulder, and Chu Hao led Ji Fanxing away.

Beside the King’s seat was another identical chair, prepared by Ji Fanxing for her teammate.

Since they were a team, she believed equal respect was due.

Chu Hao accepted the gesture without fuss. The two of them, dressed in matching traditional-style formalwear, sat in the place of honor, gazing down as if the storms outside could not reach them.

[You have to admit, Ji Fanxing is good at currying favor—she even got Chu Hao a seat.]

[What else could she do? She needs Chu Hao to carry her this round.]

[My Hao-ge’s reputation is ruined by Ji Fanxing!]

[But honestly, they look pretty good together in those outfits.]

[The ancient elements in the costumes are so fresh—I never thought traditional clothes could look this good...]

Today’s costumes were designed by Ji Fanxing herself to match their performance. In her country, the Dragon Nation, which shared a history identical to China’s, traditional culture had not been as widely revived. Most people still associated traditional dress with outfits worn by elderly folks practicing tai chi in the park.

These two sets of pseudo-traditional formalwear were elegantly cut, exuding both grandeur and a sense of free-spirited artistry.

Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao already possessed commanding presences. Clad in these outfits, seated on the throne, no one dared provoke them.

As the camera panned over them, the previously hostile barrage of comments quieted considerably.