After the second episode of the show aired, the internet's memory was refreshed.

Su Ran's name vanished from the scandal sections of major platforms, replaced by comments with a completely different tone.

"I hereby announce that as of today, Su Ran has moved from my blacklist to my following list. For how many years has this voice been wasted?"

"@Su Ran's former vocal teachers: You owe him an apology."

"What kind of divine partner is Lu Zhixian? He found a rough diamond in the first round and polished it into a real diamond in the second. Is this rate of progress even legal?"

"Driftwood" and "against the current" were released on music platforms, their play counts crushing all other variety show spin-off songs within forty-eight hours.

Su Ran's social media accounts gained eight hundred thousand followers in a single day.

...

During a rehearsal break, Su Ran poked half his body through the door, holding an insulated lunch box.

"What's this?"

Lu Zhixian opened the lid.

Steam rose up—it was a bowl of wontons.

"I heard from your assistant that you like these." Su Ran stood to the side, not knowing where to put his hands.

"Teacher Lu... I'm not very good at pretty words. But you're the first person who ever told me my voice was fine. No matter how this ends, I'll remember that for the rest of my life."

Lu Zhixian looked at the wontons, his lips twitching slightly.

He picked up a wonton and chewed it a couple of times.

"Alright, hold back those tears. Let's run through the song for the third round."

Su Ran grinned and turned to grab the microphone.

...

Round three—the semifinals.

The rules had changed.

The production team issued a notice: every group must choose a song from a designated library; original works were not allowed.

Lu Zhixian spent an hour going through over a hundred songs in the library.

Finally, he checked one off.

The production team called within five minutes.

"Teacher Lu, are you sure you want to pick this one? Does Su Ran... know how to sing in Hokkien?"

"He doesn't. I'll teach him."

There was a three-second silence on the other end, likely considering whether to offer some advice. Finally, the person said, "Alright, as long as you're sure," and hung up.

When Su Ran found out the song choice, he jumped right out of his chair.

"Teacher Lu, I'm a Northerner! I don't know a single word of Hokkien! And the semifinals are only a few days away."

Lu Zhixian sat in his chair with his legs crossed, looking at him unhurriedly.

"You sang an original folk song in the first round, and people said it was impossible. You went head-to-head with an original in the second round, and people still said it was impossible. Do you still believe in that word?"

Su Ran opened his mouth twice, but the words were stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out.

He sat back down.

"Let's practice."

...

For the next three days, the rehearsal room turned into a Hokkien tutoring class.

Lu Zhixian scrutinized the pronunciation word by word, going through every line and correcting every syllable. Su Ran's tongue felt like it was tied in knots; for the first two days, his articulation was a complete mess.

But Lu Zhixian wasn't in a hurry.

He completely dismantled the original big band arrangement, rebuilding the skeleton with a grand piano and a string quartet.

He added electronic effects and vocal samples to the bridge, clashing the classical with the modern.

"Your Hokkien doesn't need to be perfect."

Su Ran looked up at him.

"This song is about longing and parting."

"You're a Northerner singing in less-than-perfect Hokkien; that clumsiness is itself part of the emotion."

"It's like someone wanting to say 'I miss you' but not knowing the other person's language. That struggle to speak is what touches people the most."

Su Ran was stunned for a long time.

"How is your brain wired?"

"I was born this way. Practice."

...

At the same time, in Jingzhou.

Qin Haoran met with those three judges for the third time.

The location had changed to a more secluded private restaurant; once the door to the private room was closed, not a single sound could escape.

"In the semifinals, I don't care how you handle it, Su Ran must be in the bottom two."

He put down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth.

"The money from that side will be doubled."

The three of them remained silent for a while.

The oldest one, Judge No. 7, rested his hand on his teacup, unable to pick it up for a long time.

He had been in the industry for twenty years and had seen it all. But after watching Su Ran's performances in the first two rounds, a string in his heart had been pulled taut.

That kid was truly improving.

But in the end, he still nodded.

The money had already been taken. Having come this far, there was no turning back.

...

The day of the semifinals.

The atmosphere backstage was completely different from the first two rounds. Six groups were being cut down to four, and every group was a tough nut to crack.

Zhou Qiming had chosen a symphonic arrangement of a Chinese rock classic for Lin Feng, and the production team had specially invited a twenty-person orchestral ensemble for live accompaniment.

The scale was so large that music stands took up half the backstage corridor.

Lin Feng came out of the dressing room in his stage outfit, and as he passed by Su Ran, he spoke up for the first time.

"Su Ran, I heard you're singing in Cantonese for the third round?"

His tone wasn't sarcastic. He was genuinely curious.

Su Ran nodded.

Lin Feng glanced at him, then looked at Lu Zhixian, who was crouching on the floor in the distance adjusting an in-ear monitor.

"Interesting."

With that, he left.

...

Two hours before the semifinal recording, Lu Zhixian made a decision that no one had expected.

He was going to go on stage himself to play the piano.

Since the show started, no partner had ever stepped onto the stage.

Director Zhao Yang hesitated for over ten seconds when he received the request.

"Teacher Lu, are you sure?"

"The piano part in the arrangement must be played live. Playing a recording won't have the right texture."

Zhao Yang thought about it and agreed. He picked up his walkie-talkie and gave an instruction to the camera crew: "Give Lu Zhixian an independent camera angle. Get close-ups of his hands."

...

Su Ran drew the third performance slot.

When it was his turn, the stage lights dimmed.

The audience fell silent, waiting for the song information to light up on the big screen.

The title appeared. It was a classic old Cantonese song.

But what drew everyone's attention away was the grand piano behind Su Ran and the person in the black shirt sitting on the piano bench.

A stir went through the audience.

The bullet chat exploded first.

"Is that Lu Zhixian playing the piano??"

"The partner is performing in person? What kind of move is this?"

"Holy crap, with those looks, that's practically me!"

"The guy above me, stop bragging, okay? Isn't that clearly me?"

Lu Zhixian sat at the piano, scanned the audience, then looked down and placed his fingers on the keys.

The intro began.

An extremely gentle piano solo laid out the melody of that old song, note by note.

Su Ran gripped the microphone and began to sing.

His Cantonese wasn't standard.

That was a fact.

But Lu Zhixian was right—that lack of standard pronunciation itself became the best vessel for emotion.

A Northerner clumsily expressing longing word by word in a language that wasn't his own—that sense of reaching for something just out of grasp was more heartbreaking than any perfect pronunciation.

In the front row of the judges' panel, He Wanqing covered her mouth with her hand.

As the verse finished, the string quartet joined in, laying a dense layer of color beneath the piano.

Supported by this layer, Su Ran's voice grew steadier and steadier.

The bridge.

Electronic effects cut in.

Lu Zhixian's piano shifted from gentle to intense, his fingers flying as notes crashed out in rapid succession.

A close-up of his hands playing was projected onto the big screen; those hands, with their well-defined joints, struck every key cleanly and decisively, without the slightest hesitation.

Someone in the audience screamed.

The bullet chat was flooded with a single phrase: "That's freaking sick!"

It was repeated thousands of times.

During Su Ran's final chorus, the strings and piano were pushed to their maximum.

Standing in the light, he sang the final line word by word in his Cantonese with a Northern accent.

The music stopped.

Applause started from the back of the audience and surged forward row by row, continuing for nearly a minute before dying down.

The judges voted.

The scores popped up one by one.

9.5, 10.0, 9.5, 9.5, 10.0—the numbers at the start were densely packed at the high end.

Lu Zhixian stared at the data screen backstage, waiting.

No. 7.

7.0.

No. 12.

7.5.

No. 18.

7.0.

Higher than the first two rounds.

The gap was narrowing.

Because this time, the person playing the piano was sitting on stage with six hundred people watching.

If you gave a performance that featured a live piano solo, a string quartet, and a level of arrangement that was visibly superior,

Giving it a score below 6 would be like writing a resignation letter in front of the entire national audience.

They didn't dare.

But it was still low.

When the overall rankings came out, Su Ran was in second place, second only to Lin Feng.

He advanced to the grand finals.

...

Backstage.

Su Ran stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall, his eyes red.

"I made it to the finals."

He repeated the phrase, his voice trembling as if he couldn't quite believe his ears.

Lu Zhixian handed him a bottle of water.

"Don't get too emotional. There's still the finals, the toughest part. Lin Feng and Zhou Qiming aren't weak."

Su Ran took the water, twisted off the cap, took a gulp, and wiped his face.

"Teacher Lu, what song are you planning to choose for the finals?"

Lu Zhixian didn't respond immediately.

He stood by the window, looking at the night outside for a while.

The city lights below were a mess of red, green, and yellow, as noisy as the melodies in his head.

"I've already decided on the song for the finals."

He turned around.

"Once this song is finished, it will be the true starting point of your music career."

He paused.

"And it will be the end point where certain people pay the price."

Su Ran didn't understand the second half, but he saw something in Lu Zhixian's eyes that he couldn't put into words.

Meanwhile.

On Weibo, #Heavenly Voice Partners Scoring Fraud# quietly climbed to the 38th spot on the trending search list.

Someone was gathering evidence in the shadows.

Someone was waiting for an opportunity.

The storm hadn't arrived yet.

But the wind had already begun to blow.