Chapter 76: "Traveling Through Time and Space"

"Thank you, everyone!" As Zhou Ran finished singing the last line of the song, he gave a slight bow. The scene was a perfect replica of his first performance on "Who Is the King of Singers," except for the clothes.

It was as if the moment had been copied flawlessly; only his attire was different.

When Zhou Ran finished and prepared to leave the stage, the audience below had only just recovered from the performance. They broke into enthusiastic applause, for this was exactly the feeling they had been waiting for! The way Zhou Ran sang was identical to the first time they had heard him—except his technique was even more refined now, and the youthful charm that marked his performances remained wholly intact.

"Zhou Ran! Zhou Ran! Zhou Ran!" Many in the audience continued to shout his name wildly after he finished his performance.

Just by looking at the audience’s reaction, one could tell how successful Zhou Ran’s performance had been. It was clear the result was more than satisfactory.

After his performance, Zhou Ran returned directly to his seat in the audience. It had been some time since he had sung an entire song on stage; although he kept up his basic training in daily life, he couldn’t help but feel a bit tired after singing a full piece.

Shortly after Zhou Ran settled back in his seat, the fifth award of the Chinese Golden Melody Awards was about to be announced—the Best Composer in Chinese Music.

As Zhou Ran sat among the audience, he suddenly had a premonition that he might soon be making another trip to the stage.

The guest presenting the Best Composer in Chinese Music award was Mr. Huang Wen, last year’s winner—a figure of considerable renown.

He had once been the exclusive composer for the superstar Zhang Wei, having written the music for twenty or thirty of Zhang Wei’s songs. He was truly among the top composers in Chinese music, and there was even a rumor in the industry that his fee was a million per song. It was said that someone once offered him a million for a single composition.

Huang Wen opened the envelope on stage, and a familiar name caught his eye. Huang Wen couldn’t help but feel that Zhou Ran was the busiest person at tonight’s awards ceremony—after all, his name seemed to be present at nearly every award presentation.

"I announce that the winner of this year’s Best Composer in Chinese Music is Zhou Ran!"

"Representative work: 'A Laugh Over the Sea!'"

"Congratulations, Zhou Ran."

As Huang Wen finished announcing the winner, the accompaniment to "A Laugh Over the Sea" immediately began to play in the venue.

"Congratulations, Zhou Ran!"

"Three awards in a row! Congratulations again!"

"You really are busy tonight!"

Zhou Ran’s peers around him teased him relentlessly as he won his third award of the evening.

"Oh, please, stop teasing me!" Zhou Ran shook his head helplessly upon hearing his name again. All he wanted was to quietly rest in his seat for a moment—was that really so difficult? Perhaps this was the trouble that comes with happiness.

If outsiders could hear what Zhou Ran was thinking, they would surely find it exasperating. Others would do anything to win an award here, yet Zhou Ran seemed to resent it. Everyone knew that winning an award at such a prestigious ceremony meant great exposure. It was truly a case of some suffering from drought while others drowned in abundance—human joy and sorrow are never the same.

Once more, Zhou Ran mounted the stage to accept his award amid the applause of the audience.

At this moment, as Zhou Ran approached, Huang Wen looked at him and suddenly felt a sense of melancholy—a recognition that each generation produces its own talents.

Huang Wen had listened to many of Zhou Ran’s songs in private, especially "A Laugh Over the Sea," which he had played countless times. Every time he listened, he discovered something new; even after two or three decades in the world of composition, he could still learn things from Zhou Ran’s work that he had never encountered before.

The way Zhou Ran used the pentatonic scale was masterful—truly a classic and a benchmark for others.

"Hello, Mr. Huang! I’ve admired you for a long time!" Zhou Ran’s first act on stage was to greet Huang Wen.

Whether or not he knew the person, greeting them was never wrong—and besides, in their circle, their social networks were bound to overlap to some extent.

"Hahaha, hello, Zhou Ran! I’ve heard of you for a long time as well. Meeting you in person, I see you’re indeed very impressive," Huang Wen replied with satisfaction.

Since Zhou Ran had shown him such respect, he naturally returned the favor.

In the world of music, it isn’t about conflict—it’s about the warmth of human relationships.

After their brief exchange, Huang Wen stepped back and left the stage to Zhou Ran, giving him the space to deliver his acceptance speech.

Standing on stage, Zhou Ran found himself in a bit of an awkward position. Whatever he wanted to say, he had already said in his previous two speeches. Fortunately, Li Mi had given him a universal formula for acceptance speeches in advance, so Zhou Ran simply followed it.

The so-called universal formula was quite simple: thank the guests present, thank your friends, and thank those who have helped you. Such a speech might not be impressive, but it would never go wrong.

As Zhou Ran dutifully read out his acceptance speech, many viewers who had just returned to the livestream were stunned by the scene.

"Why does this all feel so familiar?"

"Can someone explain? Did I just travel through time?"

"Why was it Zhou Ran before I went to the bathroom, and still Zhou Ran when I came back?"

"Bro, I suggest they just rename the Chinese Golden Melody Awards to the Zhou Ran Winning Season."

"Zhou Ran’s achievements: 3 out of 6 so far."

On Weibo, a new trending topic suddenly emerged: "How many more times will Zhou Ran take the stage tonight?" The discussion quickly went viral, with netizens fervently debating the subject. Zhou Ran’s repeated appearances at this ceremony had reached the point of near domination.

The organizers were well aware of the heated discussions online, but they were helpless—after all, everything was done according to official procedures and public voting. The results simply meant Zhou Ran kept winning; there was nothing they could do.

They couldn’t just withhold awards from him for the sake of balance, could they? That would violate the principles of fairness, openness, and justice that the Chinese Golden Melody Awards stood for.