The gentle dialect of Wu bursts forth in soaring high notes.
Although Ruan Lin did her best to conceal it, she still couldn’t stop the viewers of the Zhi Live stream from letting their imaginations run wild.
[What’s wrong with Shengxue? She looks so down… Was she bullied?]
[That guy seems to be looking in Ji Fanxing’s direction—is it something Ji Fanxing said?]
[Isn’t anyone noticing the real issue? Even though Ji Fanxing and Ji Shengxue are biological sisters, their family only supports Ji Shengxue…]
[Exactly! When they appeared earlier, Mrs. Ruan Lin looked at Ji Fanxing as if she were a stranger.]
[I just don’t get it—how could someone with Ji Fanxing’s character get so popular! I’m so angry. Ah Xue, don’t be upset. One day you’ll soar to the top and trample Ji Fanxing into the mud!]
Naturally, the ones watching Ji Shengxue’s direct cam were her own fans, and no one disliked Ji Fanxing more than those who believed she’d stolen Shengxue’s spot as champion. They never hesitated to assume the worst about her.
Their barrage of comments didn’t attract widespread attention, but some observant users quietly took screenshots…
All for the day these might become weapons to bring down Ji Fanxing, the bright new star slowly rising.
On site, the mentors, guests, and contestants had all taken their places.
Because of Fang Zhijing’s earlier comments on social media, several guests had expressed to the production team their desire to perform on stage.
A free performance is not to be wasted, and the production team was only too happy to oblige.
Such is the reality of the entertainment industry: not long ago, the producers of “King of All Singers” would shamelessly beg minor celebrities and web stars to join the show, most of whom barely responded.
Now, with the show’s soaring popularity, major entertainment companies were scrambling to get their artists in, some even willing to perform without a fee.
The two guest mentors, along with a singer who’d squeezed in as a special guest, took to the stage to warm up the crowd.
All of them were seasoned stars, and regardless of absolute skill, their performance experience far outstripped that of the yet-to-debut contestants.
On stage, they gave it their all, vying for an invitation to the “National Music Exchange Conference.” Even though it was widely rumored that the invitation was already spoken for, they still refused to give up. In an industry where everything must be fought for, and there’s no one to support them, this was their only way to grasp a sliver of opportunity.
Other than Hailan, who was solely focused on rock, and Chu Hao, who had no interest in the invitation, most contestants stared grimly at the stage, watching the seniors pour their hearts into their performances.
Nervous and lost, they knew full well how far they lagged behind. Even with such abilities, their seniors remained virtually unknown in the domestic scene.
Then what about themselves, who had nothing? What did they amount to?
Seated at the “king” position, Ji Fanxing and Ning Ze had the best view of the stage. Unlike the other contestants, Ji Fanxing showed not a trace of anxiety.
She nibbled at the fruit in her tray, enjoying the performances.
She was surprised by the guests’ competence, but in her eyes, largely due to the lag in the country’s music industry, the stage effects were just mediocre.
Everything was proper but lacking in novelty. The melodies were dull, the lyrics empty, and it was hard to find anything to resonate with.
The final performer was the guest mentor, Lu Yi. As the accompaniment started, interwoven with the lilting timbre of a pipa, Ji Fanxing raised an eyebrow—this song actually featured traditional elements.
On the massive screen, the camera captured Fang Zhijing, whose movements almost matched Ji Fanxing’s—he set down his fruit or cup, straightened his posture, his expression turning serious.
The stage faced the mentors’ table, and Lu Yi saw Fang Zhijing’s reaction clearly, feeling a surge of satisfaction.
His efforts had paid off—he’d researched Fang Zhijing’s tastes and tailored his approach, successfully drawing attention.
Buoyed by pride, he began to sing.
The song had been hastily put together; the pipa player was not proficient, and even rushed two notes.
After just a few lines, Ji Fanxing sighed almost inaudibly and quietly resumed eating her fruit.
Lu Yi was bold and inventive.
He had actually merged “Song of Slow Regret” with Fang Zhijing’s “Dream Play,” creating a hybrid song.
The main body borrowed from “Dream Play,” while the “Song of Slow Regret” motifs were woven in subtly.
The two pieces shared a similar style—most people wouldn’t notice, but nothing escaped Ji Fanxing’s ear.
Lu Yi, with two albums to his name, had a fine voice—deep, mellow, and evocative.
Yet he couldn’t break free from the common flaws of pop music in the country.
His singing was overly ornate, every line twisted into countless flourishes, every lyric ending with gratuitous vocal acrobatics, mangling what should have been a beautiful song.
On stage, Lu Yi sang while glancing toward Fang Zhijing at the mentor’s table, even though the stage lights made it impossible to see his expression.
Still, he was inexplicably convinced that Master Fang would like it.
To deepen his impression, Lu Yi, at the song’s climax, closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and forced out an E6 high note, sustaining it for ten whole beats.
“Ahhhhh!!”
Ji Fanxing paused, fork in hand, staring in disbelief as Lu Yi poured every ounce of strength into his singing.
For the first time, she directly felt the allure of a “National Music Exchange Conference” invitation.
It made a singer strain for a piercing high note in the middle of a soft, lyrical ballad from the southern rivers.
The effect was utterly jarring.
At the mentors’ table, Fang Zhijing, who had been sitting upright, stroked his chin and pressed his lips together, struggling to keep his composure.
When the performance concluded, Lu Yi, panting and excited, addressed him.
“Hello, Teacher Fang, I borrowed inspiration from your ‘Dream Play’ for this song…”
Lu Yi’s song was a crafty choice. On the “King of All Singers” stage, such adaptations skirted the edges of copyright infringement; as long as there was no commercial use, the original artist rarely objected.
“Teacher Fang has profoundly influenced my musical journey, and I’ll continue to develop traditional-style music in the future…”
Lu Yi, caught up in his emotions, began narrating his journey into the industry.
His speech sounded sincere, but he never once mentioned borrowing from “Song of Slow Regret.”
This arrogance was typical of the domestic entertainment scene’s habit of exalting the powerful and trampling the weak.
Fang Zhijing’s brow furrowed deeper, disappointment evident.
He regretted ever posting that anyone could compete for the invitation, out of sheer defiance.
He’d hoped to find true talent, but instead had drawn out all sorts of riffraff.
Still, Lu Yi was a mentor on the show, and as much as Fang Zhijing disliked this kind of singer, he couldn’t say so outright.
He merely remarked coolly, “Creative approach—there’s still plenty of room for improvement,” and set down his microphone.
Lu Yi, failing to grasp Fang Zhijing’s true feelings, felt a bit nervous, but then convinced himself that “not bad” was high praise.
His nervousness vanished, and seeing his newfound confidence, the audience could only respond with confusion and disbelief.
[After hearing his song, I suddenly realize how truly brilliant Master Fang is.]
[That song borrowed way more than just ‘Dream Play’—the middle part is identical to ‘Song of Slow Regret’!]
[I noticed too! He didn’t even mention it—damn! I’m furious!]
[What’s there to be angry about? This is just how things are—no status, no voice. I’ve become numb…]
For the final episode, the contestants’ performance order would be drawn by Fang Zhijing himself.
As the ceremonial music played, he pressed the button, and the names on the screen spun before coming to a stop.
The contestants below, tense and excited, craned their necks to see the results—and, upon seeing the order, collectively breathed a sigh of relief.