The most absurd are those who see things clearly.

“A toast to freedom, a toast to death—
Forgive my ordinariness, banish my confusion—
Alright, dawn always brings a hurried departure—”

Inside King’s exclusive lounge at the show, Ning Ze finally shed tears upon hearing these words.

Not only was Ning Ze tone-deaf, he was the emotional sort. Since childhood, he had been unable to distinguish intervals and scales; most songs sounded much the same to him. While this hindered his appreciation of music, it made him acutely sensitive to the emotions within a song.

The emotions woven into this song were so complex that he could scarcely bear them, especially the juxtaposition of freedom and death in that line. Most people, faced with these two words, yearn for the former and revere the latter.

“Why, Star, do you cherish freedom so deeply, and face death so lightly?”

At twenty-three, Ning Ze suddenly felt he and Star Ji, also twenty-three, had missed out on so much.

Star Ji finally sang the last line, “The most lucid are the most absurd—”

At the mentor’s table, Fang Zhijing, nearing sixty, was swept away from his own life, lost in a dreamlike reverie. He glanced unexpectedly at the invitation card at his side and shook his head, murmuring, “Absurd, it truly is absurd.”

He had always clung to memories of his youth, never realizing he had become the very person he once disdained. Having lived this long, he was still ensnared by social obligations, compelled to do things against his will.

Even when he wanted to refuse, he had to weigh the consequences.

Fang Zhijing reflected on his act of handing an invitation to Chu Hao: aside from the young man's undeniable talent, Fang had simply thought giving the card to him was the safest bet. A youth with both powerful connections and talent seemed most fitting.

Yet even he had forgotten that the original purpose of the Music Exchange Conference was to foster the development of music in Dragon Country through collaboration, not to fuel division, pride, arrogance, and petty rivalries that led the music scene astray.

On stage, Star Ji bowed to the audience with a radiant smile. The entire venue fell into a brief silence, then applause and cheers surged like waves, unending.

“Star Ji! You’re amazing! I adore you!”

Lu Tianyu rose in the audience, waving his glow stick, shouting excitedly like everyone around him.

“Ahhh!”

He was ecstatic, feeling his long wait was worth it—his beloved Star was truly outstanding, and this song was phenomenal!

The popular idol cheered for his own idol, lost in the moment, until—

“How strange, is it just me? That voice sounds so familiar.”

“That tone sounds just like my brother…”

“Lu Tianyu shouted like this on that variety show.”

“That’s ridiculous, how could Lu Tianyu be here? Must be your imagination.”

“But…”

The conversation of several girls behind him drifted to his ears. Lu Tianyu shivered, covered his mouth, and curled up like a quail. His glow stick trembled faintly in his other hand.

His shout turned into a whispered chant, “Star Ji! Star Ji!…”

The entire venue echoed with her name.

Never before had Dragon Country seen such a song. “Dispel Sorrow” touched everyone’s heart.

[This song pierces straight into my soul, it’s breathtaking!]
[Eight cups of wine, to a lifetime. These lyrics are brilliant!]
[This is a true song king. Star Ji never needs to please anyone, she just needs to be herself, and “Dispel Sorrow” is incredible.]
[Family, who understands? The mother who always hated my idol obsession is now fangirling with me over Star Ji. I cried so hard, even Dad cried listening to her sing.]
[That’s it, Star Ji is undeniably the song queen. If Master Fang gives her the invitation, she’ll have achieved a true grand slam!]

What did Fang Zhijing really think of Star Ji? As the show entered the critique segment, everyone was desperate to know the outcome.

Critiques rotated left and right according to the mentors’ seating, and today, Xie Huai was first.

After so many rounds, Xie Huai understood that Star Ji transcended her era; he could not critique her from a professional standpoint.

True to his nature, Xie Huai felt no resentment over this—instead, he was gratified. That feeling had transformed into genuine admiration when Star Ji sang “Dispel Sorrow.”

This girl, even with a commanding lead and assured victory, still respected the show and the stage. She never wavered from her goal, always preparing diligently.

“Star, thank you for bringing us so many beautiful songs.
If there’s a chance, I hope we can collaborate more in music…”

As the show drew to a close, Xie Huai wondered how Star Ji, without an agency, would make her way. He extended a hand, hoping to help her.

Star Ji understood his intent and bowed slightly. “Mentor Xie is an excellent teacher, always generous with his guidance throughout the show. Without you, our progress wouldn’t have been so swift…
If we have the chance, we will definitely work together.”

She spoke sincerely. Xie Huai was a rare, genuine musician in Dragon Country’s music industry. Though sharp-tongued, every critique was meaningful, and he never discriminated by background during training. He was the model mentor of the program.

Star Ji appreciated this kind of person, and several songs suitable for Xie Huai’s voice were already forming in her mind.

Xie Huai’s singing was strong and gifted, but limited by his era, his full talent never got to shine.

Mutual admiration led to a tacit agreement for future collaboration on stage.

Fang Zhijing, sitting beside Xie Huai, was surprised. Had he misjudged? Was Star Ji planning to stay in show business? Why refuse agencies? Though agencies imposed restrictions, in Dragon Country, it was almost impossible for a newcomer to succeed without signing.

Even for himself, he had needed a record company to release music at first.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of curiosity for this unconventional girl. Perhaps she wasn’t as bad as rumors claimed.

Fang Zhijing looked at the invitation card beside him. He realized he shouldn’t judge someone by others’ opinions, but through his own observation and experience.

“Miss Star Ji, your song ‘Dispel Sorrow’ amazed me.
In all my years, I’ve never heard a song like this—it moves the soul and brings deep insight.
I think this is the magic of music. A song that resonates with people is undoubtedly the best kind of music.
Dragon Country’s music needs artists like you…”

Fang Zhijing gave his highest praise, tying Star Ji’s name directly to the nation’s musical future.

If someone else had said this, it would sound like empty flattery. But from Fang Zhijing, a master of music, no one doubted him—thunderous applause erupted.

His strong endorsement left the fiercely competitive guests and the two visiting mentors burning with jealousy.