The morning after the concert, Lu Zhixian was awakened by the vibration of his phone.

It wasn't an alarm, but four consecutive calls from Old Zhao.

He answered groggily, and before he could speak, Old Zhao had already exploded on the other end.

"Boss! Hurry up and check out Live Scene!"

"What time is it?"

"Nine-ten."

"...What are you so excited about this early in the morning?"

"The rating! The rating for our concert on Live Scene is out!"

Lu Zhixian rubbed his eyes, switched his phone to speaker, and opened the largest live performance review platform in the country.

In the search bar, the name 'Lu Zhixian' was already at the top of the trending searches.

He clicked in, and the page loaded for two seconds.

At the very top of the rating section, a large number was displayed.

9.5.

Lu Zhixian was stunned for a moment.

He had an impression of this platform. He had scrolled through it before, and the highest score in the history of Chinese live music performances seemed to be a 9.3 achieved by a certain hall-of-fame singer's tenth-anniversary tour.

9.5 directly broke the record.

"There are over eight thousand ratings, and it's still rising," Old Zhao said rapidly over the phone.

"Go look at the long review section yourself. They're all several hundred or even a thousand words long, written line by line like they're writing a thesis."

Lu Zhixian slid into the long review section and randomly clicked on a few.

"I have never cried from start to finish at a concert before. Last night was the first time. It wasn't because of forced sentimentality—he didn't try to be sentimental once the whole time—it was the music itself hitting you; there was no escape."

"A completely live band, no backing tracks, no pitch correction, no flashy stage effects. Just one person, one microphone, and a group of musicians singing for two and a half hours. This is what a concert should look like."

"That last song, 'exaggerated,' is still echoing in my ears even now. I don't know how to describe that feeling; it's as if someone took the most knotted string in your heart and plucked it hard."

Lu Zhixian put his phone down and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"Old Zhao."

"Here!"

"Order me some takeout."

"...Huh?"

"I'm hungry. Two meat buns and a bowl of soy milk."

Old Zhao was silent for three seconds on the other end.

"Boss, can you have a little self-awareness about breaking a record?"

"Even record-breakers have to eat breakfast."

After hanging up, Lu Zhixian rolled over and browsed for a while longer.

The comment section was still growing at a speed visible to the naked eye, with a new review appearing every few seconds.

The rating floated slightly up from 9.5, sticking at 9.52.

...

The media's reaction was even faster than he had anticipated.

By noon, reports about the concert had spread across all major platforms.

Old Zhao sent over a long string of screenshots of the headlines he had collected.

"Zero Guests, Zero Backing Tracks, Full Live Band: Lu Zhixian Redefines the Standard for Concerts."

"The Three Thousand Luckiest People."

"Less Than a Year Since Debut, He Put on the Best Concert in the Country in Nearly a Decade."

Lu Zhixian glanced at them and replied, "Clickbait."

Old Zhao sent another message: "But the content is written very earnestly, you can take a look."

He didn't look.

It wasn't that he didn't care, but rather that instead of reading reports, he wanted to know what people within the industry were saying.

The answer came quickly.

Shortly after 1 PM, voices from within the industry began to appear on social media platforms one after another.

Several singers who were at the scene last night posted photos of the performance they had secretly taken from the audience. The captions were all very short.

One wrote "Admirable."

One wrote "Learned a lot."

Another directly posted three words: "Too damn fierce."

The most explosive one was a repost.

The person who reposted was named Zheng Heming.

Anyone in the know understood the weight of this name in the Chinese music scene.

Having debuted thirty-two years ago, he had won every award there was to win. Ten years ago, he retired and stopped singing, and since then, he had never publicly commented on any junior.

He reposted a link to a report about the concert.

He added four words.

"The youth are formidable."

The comment section below immediately crashed.

"Zheng Heming reposted??? Am I seeing this right???"

"How many years has it been since this lord posted on Weibo? The last one was three years ago, wishing fans a Happy New Year..."

"Those four words, coming from his mouth, carry more weight than ten thousand words of praise from anyone else."

"What level of recognition has Lu Zhixian received? I'm feeling a bit dazed."

When Old Zhao saw this repost, he was having lunch, and his chopsticks dropped straight onto the table.

He called Lu Zhixian, his voice trembling.

"Zheng Heming! Zheng! He! Ming! Do you know what this means?"

"It means the elder thinks I sang alright."

"Alright??? He hasn't praised anyone in ten years!"

"Then I'm quite honored." Lu Zhixian's tone was flat, but the corners of his mouth had already curled up.

After hanging up on Old Zhao, he scrolled to another long post.

He knew the person who posted it.

It was that sharp-tongued music critic who was the first to write a long analysis of 'dispelling sorrow,' whose online handle was 'Lao Pao Music Review'.

This time, he wrote an article of nearly three thousand words, with a title of just three words: 'I Was Wrong'.

Lu Zhixian clicked in and scrolled to a few key paragraphs.

"At the time, I thought 'dispelling sorrow' was already his ceiling. For a newcomer to be able to write a song like that would be enough to last a lifetime. Now I know I was wrong. This person simply has no ceiling."

"That final song, 'exaggerated,' I don't want to use any technical terms to analyze it. I can only say that after that song was finished, not one of the three thousand people at the scene stood up to leave. That silence was worth more than any applause."

This article surpassed fifty thousand reposts within two hours.

In the comment section, even some industry producers who usually never spoke up emerged to give it a like.

Lu Zhixian bookmarked the article.

It wasn't so he could take it out to show off later.

It was because 'Lao Pao Music Review' wrote a sentence in the last paragraph that he felt was very accurate.

"This is not a victory for traffic; it is a victory for music."

...

At 3 PM, Old Zhao sent over another document.

A financial report.

For a concert with a scale of three thousand people, the ticket revenue itself wasn't considered exaggerated.

But the peripheral products sold like crazy. Five hundred copies of the concert-limited vinyl records were prepared, and they were cleared out twenty minutes before the start. After the concert, sales of the online album saw a clear second wave of explosion, with single-day sales nearly quadrupling the usual amount.

More crucial was the last item.

Old Zhao attached a note at the end of the document: "Three top-tier sponsors have already reached out proactively, all wanting to discuss title sponsorship for the next show. The sponsorship amounts they're offering are several times the total cost of this concert. Their exact words were, 'As long as Lu Zhixian does another one, the terms are open for negotiation.'"

After Lu Zhixian finished reading, he replied with four words: "No rush for now."

Old Zhao replied instantly: "I know, but I couldn't help telling you."

Putting down his phone, Lu Zhixian leaned against the back of his chair and stretched his shoulders.

They were sore.

After singing for two and a half hours last night, his throat was fine, but the physical toll on his body was greater than imagined.

The phone rang again.

Zhou Yang.

"Hello."

"When's the next one?"

Straight to the point, that was Zhou Yang's style. His voice was still a bit raspy—this group had drunk quite a bit during the celebration last night.

"You're being too impatient; my concert only ended a day ago."

"It's not that I'm impatient; my guys were already asking in the group chat early this morning. Chenzi usually speaks so little he's like a mute, but today he sent six messages, all asking about the next show."

Lu Zhixian laughed.

"The next one needs to be something big. Wait for my word."

"Fine, I won't rush you. But remember, as long as you speak up, we'll be there at a moment's notice."

"Understood, Old Zhou."

Just as he was about to put the phone down after hanging up, the screen lit up again.

Mom.

He answered.

"Son."

Lus Mother's voice had a nasal tone as soon as she spoke; she had clearly just cried, or perhaps hadn't stopped.

"Mom, are you crying again?"

"Who's crying? My throat just feels uncomfortable."

Lu Zhixian didn't call her out.

"Where's Dad?"

"Your dad..." Lus Mother paused, her voice dropping even lower.

"Your dad was crying like a child in that tavern last night. He wouldn't admit it when he got back, saying the wind blew into his eyes. Who would believe that? That tavern didn't even have the windows open."

Lu Zhixian was stunned for a moment.

His father had been concerned with his pride his whole life; he wouldn't even admit to having a cold in front of him, let alone crying.

"Mom, help me thank Dad."

"Thank him for what?"

"Thank him for coming."

The other end was quiet for a few seconds. Lus Mother's nasal tone became even heavier.

"Alright, alright, let's not talk anymore; get some good rest. Your dad and I are taking the afternoon train back. Don't come to see us off, just focus on your work."

"Okay."

"Oh, right." Lus Mother thought of something else.

"Those two girls in hats in the front row last night were both quite pretty. Are they your colleagues?"

"...Mom, what were you looking at during the performance?"

"As long as I can hear you sing, it's fine; it's not like I have to keep my eyes glued on you."

Lu Zhixian couldn't help but laugh out loud.

After hanging up, he placed his phone on the table.

The room fell silent.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, cutting a bright line across the floor.

He rubbed his face and opened a social media platform to browse casually. Just as he entered the homepage, a dynamic update popped up.

Lin Shiya. Posted ten minutes ago.

No text.

Just a photo.

The photo was taken at the concert scene last night.

The angle was from the side of the stage looking up. In the image, Lu Zhixian stood in the spotlight with the band behind him playing with all their might, and the audience area in front of him was lit up with a dense array of mobile phone screens.

The composition was a bit crooked, clearly taken secretly.

But the light and shadow were just right.

The comment section had already exploded.

"Lin Shiya went to see Lu Zhixian's concert??? It's confirmed???"

"A picture with no text, what does this mean? Can someone help me interpret this!"

"Holy crap, this photo is taken so well, the angle is perfect."

"So... what exactly is the relationship between Lin Shiya and Lu Zhixian?"

Comments were refreshing one after another, but Lin Shiya didn't reply to any of them.

Lu Zhixian stared at the photo for a few seconds.

He gave it a like.

Then he sent a private message over.

"Nice photo. Next time remember to use the flash so my face is clearer."

The other side waited for a dozen seconds.

A period was returned.

After a few more seconds, a second message popped up.

"Lu Zhixian."

"When do you plan to work on that duet you promised me last time?"

Looking at this message, Lu Zhixian's mind couldn't help but be jolted.

He had completely forgotten about this matter.

Lu Zhixian replied.

"Next week, I'll be making a trip to Shanghai."