Chapter 9: "The Best Decision of My Life"

The audience below the stage began to hum along with Chen Yi’s singing.

“What you can’t have is always stirring,
The favored are always fearless,
The red of the rose, a dream blossoming from wounds,
Held in the palm but slipping through the fingers,
Once again, left with nothing.”

As Chen Yi softly sang the final word, bringing the song to its end, the audience leapt to their feet, offering the most enthusiastic applause. The King of Song truly lived up to his name—the moment he sang, beauty filled the air.

Backstage, in the lounge, the remaining contestants who had yet to perform felt a chill run down their spines after hearing Chen Yi’s performance. Zhou Ran, in particular, realized the vast gap between them—it wasn’t even a matter of being in the same league.

Before this, Zhou Ran had been brimming with confidence, even bordering on arrogance. He thought that with the help of songs from his previous life, he could easily surpass any senior artist, believing himself to be second only to heaven itself. But after witnessing the earlier performances, Zhou Ran understood that songs from a past life were merely a tool; true achievement depended on one’s own ability. No matter how good a song is, if you can’t sing it well, it’s useless. You have to be strong in your own right, and must remain humble and willing to learn.

The others, however, were in utter despair. How could they possibly compete? Originally, a performance worth seventy points would have been enough to pass, but now, with such high bars set, anything less than ninety would be considered a failure. The pressure was immense.

Soon, the audience voting ended. Chen Yi’s “Red Rose” garnered 930 votes, taking first place in this episode in an overwhelming fashion.

Backstage, Ji Song smiled and applauded upon hearing Chen Yi’s score, thinking to himself, “As expected of Chen Yi—returning to the stage and astonishing everyone.” He wasn’t surprised by Chen Yi’s result; he believed it was only natural, the reward Chen Yi deserved. If he hadn’t received that many votes, it would have been strange.

At this moment, Zhang Yuan felt utterly indifferent—she had already accepted the outcome. She just needed to sing; she wasn’t hoping for anything more. She’d simply do her part.

“Hello, Teacher Chen Yi! Your performance was amazing!” Jin Kun, ever quick-eyed, was the first to spot Chen Yi’s arrival backstage and hurried over to greet him.

Zhang Yuan’s reaction was even more dramatic—she bowed deeply in greeting as soon as she saw Chen Yi. This startled Chen Yi, who thought, “This kid is so sincere!” He quickly approached to help her up.

After greeting everyone, Chen Yi took the initiative to chat with Zhou Ran. This left everyone else stunned—they couldn’t quite understand why someone of Chen Yi’s stature would take the initiative to speak to a newcomer who’d only just gained a bit of fame in the entertainment industry.

Zhou Ran himself hadn’t expected this turn of events. Only after the conversation did Zhou Ran realize that Chen Yi had been impressed by his two original songs and came over to exchange pleasantries, even joking, “If you ever get the chance, write a song for me too.”

Many years later, Chen Yi would write in his memoirs that the best decision he ever made was greeting Zhou Ran on this day.

No matter how lively the backstage conversations grew, the remaining contestants still had to face reality and perform on stage.

Next up were Zhang Yuan, Jin Kun, Shen Wei, Li Di, and the Phoenix Band. With the earlier three performances raising the audience’s expectations, it was only natural that the rest received fewer votes.

Their scores were 830, 816, 801, 796, and 760, respectively—all noticeably lower than usual. For the Phoenix Band, it was even more disastrous—they hit rock bottom, setting a new record for the lowest score since the show began.

This wasn’t entirely their fault, as the theme this round was “sorrow,” while their style leaned toward energetic and upbeat music.

The Phoenix Band was often jokingly referred to online as the “Square Dance Band,” since their songs were popular among elderly dancers in public squares, much like the Phoenix Legend of the previous world.

Learning their low score didn’t disappoint the Phoenix Band; they had anticipated this outcome. Their style simply clashed with this round’s theme. For a singer, having a distinctive style is a double-edged sword—it attracts listeners who love that style but makes it harder to break new ground.

Shen Wei was a case in point. He’d debuted with melancholic love songs and the audience had come to label him as such. He’d tried venturing into more cheerful songs, but the results were mediocre, never matching the response to his signature style.

Zhou Ran also pondered about his own musical direction but couldn’t quite pin it down. All he wanted was to bring songs from his previous life into this one, make a living, and achieve a modest level of financial freedom—nothing more.

When all the performances concluded, the director, Ning Wei, came in, casting a special glance at Zhou Ran. Zhou Ran’s performance in the last episode had caused a stir, pushing the show to the top of its time slot, and its Weibo hashtag was nearing third place on the trending chart.

Bai Ning, the show’s manager, noticed Ning Wei’s gaze. Zhou Ran’s performance had completely exceeded Bai Ning’s expectations. What kind of newcomer was this? Two original songs right out of the gate, both of remarkable quality, as if he were writing novels—and he was handsome, too.

Bai Ning seriously suspected that God hadn’t just opened a window for Zhou Ran, but had knocked down all four walls to let him walk in and out as he pleased.

After all, today’s entertainment industry was obsessed with appearances; talent was secondary. With a face like Zhou Ran’s, Bai Ning believed he could thrive even without singing a note. This phenomenon wasn’t unique to this world or even to Earth; it had become an almost pathological obsession—fans would attack anyone who dared criticize their idols, without reason or restraint.

Even Jin Kun, the most popular young idol in recent years, hadn’t achieved what Zhou Ran had. Jin Kun debuted through a talent show, covering others’ songs to build his popularity, and only later sang original tracks provided by his company.

Bai Ning sometimes wondered if God had not only opened a window for Zhou Ran but had broken down all the walls so he could come and go as he pleased.

Director Ning Wei entered the lounge, announced the voting results, and gave the customary summary. He expressed regret over the Phoenix Band’s elimination, then announced the theme for the next episode—a complete reversal from before: the only theme would be “passion and energy.”