At ten o'clock the next morning, Su Ran appeared at the door of the rehearsal room right on time.

Lu Zhixian had already connected the monitor speakers, and the audio file name on the screen was—living viva.

"Sit."

Su Ran pulled over a chair without any nonsense.

Lu Zhixian pressed the play button.

The first thing to wake up was the distorted electric guitar.

The strings vibrated, bursting with a crisp, sharp, and explosive tone.

"Young enough that whoever I meet, I can be as crisp as a wafer."

"Happy enough that even half a day feels like living a million years."

"Nothing is as clear and crisp as youth."

"Happy enough to grow a year older every day."

Su Ran sprang up from his chair.

"This, what is this?"

Lu Zhixian leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "This is the song you're going to sing in the second round."

Su Ran stood there with his mouth half-open as the demo continued to play.

When the melody of the chorus unfolded, his hand unconsciously clenched.

The demo finished playing.

Su Ran looked back at Lu Zhixian with a complex expression in his eyes, but only three words came out of his mouth: "Can I sing this?"

"Nonsense, I wrote it for you."

...

Lu Zhixian broke down the arrangement structure, using words that Su Ran could understand.

Su Ran nodded.

"In the chorus, let it all out. I've designed a progression for you from low to high, ending with a high note."

He reached out and played a note on the keyboard.

Su Ran was stunned when he heard that pitch.

It wasn't high.

It was in his most comfortable range, a position where singing felt effortless.

"This note... I can sing it."

"Of course you can." Lu Zhixian pushed the keyboard aside.

"This is what an arrangement does. It's not about making you accommodate the music; it's about making the music fulfill you."

"You just need to deliver that note steadily; leave the rest to me. The arrangement will help you multiply the impact tenfold."

Su Ran's Adam's apple bobbed.

He didn't ask anything else.

...

For the next two days, the rehearsal room door remained closed from eight in the morning until eleven at night.

Lu Zhixian wasn't just nitpicking the singing style.

"The four beats before the chorus: walk forward three steps, plant your foot firmly on the fourth, and raise the microphone at the same time. This movement must align perfectly with the drum beats; even being half a beat off is unacceptable."

Su Ran did the first run-through; he was late.

"Again."

The second time, he was early.

"Again."

By the fifteenth time, his positioning and the drum beats finally synced up, but Lu Zhixian said the angle of the microphone was wrong.

"Your current movement looks like you're saluting. Relax, don't be so stiff. The microphone is a part of your body, not a weapon."

By the thirtieth practice, Su Ran finally achieved the effect Lu Zhixian wanted.

Su Ran collapsed on the floor, his T-shirt soaked enough to be wrung out.

But as he lay there, he smiled.

"Teacher Lu, I've been debuted for three years, and I've never had a rehearsal more exhausting than these past two days," he panted. "But I've also never felt this great."

Lu Zhixian tossed a bottle of water, which landed on his stomach. "Cut the nonsense. Get up. Let's go over those eight bars of the bridge one more time."

...

During a rehearsal break the next afternoon, the door was pushed open a crack from the outside.

Zhou Qiming poked his head in with a smile on his face, holding a thermos.

"Little Lu, are you busy?"

He strolled in a few steps, his gaze scanning the equipment in the rehearsal room.

"Your song 'Painting' in the first round was quite good, very creative. However, the competition in the second round is even more intense. Do you want your Uncle to give you some advice? Regarding song selection..."

"Thank you, Teacher Zhou."

Lu Zhixian smiled, a very generous smile.

But he didn't yield an inch.

"Thank you, Teacher Zhou, but we have our own plan."

Zhou Qiming's smile held for a second, stiffened slightly, and then returned. He patted the doorframe.

"Good. Young people have spirit. Then I shall wait and see."

He turned and left.

Su Ran sat in the corner, looking in the direction Zhou Qiming had left, looking as if he wanted to say something.

Lu Zhixian didn't give him the chance to speak: "Keep practicing. The emotion in the third line of the bridge is wrong; it's too aggressive."

...

The official recording of the second round began.

With six sets of contestants, the performance order was drawn by lot. Su Ran drew fifth—the penultimate spot, the sub-headliner.

The performance level of the first four groups was a whole level higher than in the first round.

The third female singer performed an ancient-style adaptation. Silk ribbons drifted down from the ceiling, and the background projection was a flowing ink-wash landscape.

The visual effects were maxed out, and her vocal talent was solid.

The applause from the judges' table was very orderly.

In front of the backstage monitor, Su Ran's face turned a shade paler.

He looked back at Lu Zhixian. He didn't speak, but his fingers were fidgeting with the microphone cover.

Lu Zhixian didn't say anything either.

He walked over to a guitar in the corner of the backstage, sat down, and casually played a segment.

It was the intro to "Painting."

He played very casually; his left hand didn't even bother with an accompaniment, just a single-line melody from his right hand, notes flowing out one by one.

Su Ran listened for a few seconds, and his hands stopped fidgeting with the microphone.

His shoulders slowly relaxed, and his breathing gradually became steady.

"Teacher Lu, were you a hypnotist in a past life?" Su Ran said with a bitter smile.

Lu Zhixian put down the guitar, stood up, and patted him on the back.

"Go on. No matter how well the people before you sang, you only have to do one thing: sing this song into everyone's heart."

...

The fifth group.

The lights dimmed.

When the song information appeared on the large screen, a wave of whispers rose from both the judges' table and the audience.

living viva (Original)

Lyrics/Composition/Arrangement: Lu Zhixian

Another original.

The warmth from the first round's song "Painting" was still lingering on the trending searches, and now another original had appeared.

Amidst the whispers, there was something else. It wasn't doubt; it was curiosity.

A heartbeat-like low-frequency sound spread from the speakers.

Su Ran stood in the darkness, with only a very thin beam of light hitting his profile.

The sound of the electric guitar came through first.

He began to sing.

"Young enough that whoever I meet, I can be as crisp as a wafer."

"Happy enough that even half a day feels like living a million years."

"Nothing is as clear and crisp as youth."

In the front row of the judges' table, that Old Producer who had dropped his pen in the first round placed his pen on the table in advance this time.

In the second verse, Su Ran began to add power.

The underlying tone of his voice didn't change, but something was rising.

The four beats before the chorus.

Su Ran took one step forward. Two steps. Three steps.

On the fourth step, he planted his foot firmly.

He raised the microphone, perfectly in sync with the beat where the drums crashed down.

His voice exploded.

Everything surging from the deepest part of his chest—three years of being stifled, three years of refusing to back down, three years of people pushing his head down and saying "you can't do it."

"Young enough that whoever I meet, I can be as crisp as a wafer."

"Happy enough that even half a day feels like living a million years."

"Nothing is as clear and crisp as youth."

It all poured into his vocal cords at this moment.

The arrangement exploded in full at this juncture.

Electric guitar, snare drum, electric bass.

But not a single instrument part crowded out the vocals.

All the music pushed in the same direction, elevating Su Ran's voice to the highest peak.

Someone in the audience stood up.

That final long note.

Su Ran delivered it steadily within his most comfortable vocal range.

After the long note.

All instruments slowly faded away.

One second.

Two seconds.

The whole place exploded.

He Wanqing was the first to stand up, her hands trembling as she took off her glasses. "This is the best song I've heard since I started participating in this show. Bar none."

The Bald Producer didn't analyze the technique this time; he only said one sentence: "Lu Zhixian, you are a terrifying person."

...

The voting phase.

The scores jumped out one by one.

9.0, 9.5, 9.5, 10.0, 9.0, 9.5, 10.0—

Almost all the scores beforehand were above 9 points.

Backstage, Lu Zhixian stared at the data screen, waiting for those three numbers.

Number 7.

6.0.

Number 12.

5.5.

Number 18.

6.0.

Lu Zhixian watched for two seconds and gave a cold smile.

They won't get away.

The overall rankings came out. Su Ran's total ranking—second.

Second only to Lin Feng.

...

The program aired that night.

#Su Ran living viva# rushed to the number one spot on the trending search list.

#Lu Zhixian Original# was fourth on the trending searches.

But there was a third topic climbing at an unnatural speed—

#Heavenly Voice Partners Scoring Controversy#

"Judge No. 7 gave Su Ran a 5.5 in the first round and a 6.0 in the second. Then turned around and gave Lin Feng a 9.5 in both rounds? Is this the same pair of ears listening?"

"Someone tallied it up. The scoring curves of Judges No. 7, 12, and 18 are highly consistent, precisely suppressing Su Ran in both rounds. A coincidence? Do you believe that?"

"I spent twenty minutes digging up the scoring data for all contestants from these three judges across both rounds."

"When giving Su Ran low scores, the difference between the three of them didn't exceed 0.5. When giving Lin Feng high scores, the difference also didn't exceed 0.5. This precision could rival Beidou Navigation."

"Requesting an explanation from the production team!!!"

The comment section became increasingly lively, and the number of shares climbed at a visible rate.

...

Two in the morning. Hotel room.

Lu Zhixian sat on the bed, the light from his phone screen reflecting on his face.

He went through all those comments, reading them one by one at a leisurely pace.

Then he exited Weibo and opened a folder.

The folder contained several screenshots: detailed scoring data from the three judges for all contestants during the two rounds of competition. He had organized it himself.

With the numbers arranged together, the pattern was so clear it didn't even require analysis.

He didn't post it online.

He didn't forward any discussions.

He didn't accept any interviews.

He closed the folder, locked his phone, and tossed it onto the pillow.

The wind had started to blow. Whether to add fuel to the fire next, when to add it, and how to add it—there was no rush.

He wasn't the one who should be anxious.