"If you fall, don't be afraid to keep moving forward—"

Lu Zhixian's voice wasn't loud, shaky, or airy; it was as if he were standing right in front of you, talking to you.

There was no showing off of technique, no vocal runs, and even his breathy tones were used with restraint. Yet, it was this plain and simple singing style that pinned everyone in the first three rows to their seats.

The girl in the school uniform was already crying so hard she couldn't speak. The volunteer beside her had an arm around her shoulder, her own eyes red as well.

"Why must people be so fragile and depraved—"

"Please turn on the TV and see how many people are working hard and bravely walking on for the sake of life."

The chorus arrived.

"Remember you said home is the only castle, running along with the fragrance of rice and the river."

"Smile slightly, I know the dreams of childhood—"

When Lu Zhixian sang this line, he released his right hand from the microphone and reached out toward the audience.

It wasn't a choreographed move; he just reached out instinctively.

In the audience, a man in the fourth row lowered his head. He wore a foundation staff badge, was around forty years old, and had been taking notes in a notebook the whole time.

But now, his pen stopped, his notebook closed, and his hands were folded over his knees, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Backstage.

He Jianguo stood in front of the monitor screen holding a teacup, not having taken a single sip.

Liao Meiqin walked out of the dressing room and stood beside him.

Neither of them spoke, just watching the screen.

On the screen, Lu Zhixian had his eyes closed as he finished the second chorus and entered the bridge.

The melody of the harmonica drifted from the speakers, circling through the theater.

It was the version Xiao Qin had recorded, the one where the breath was intentionally a bit hollow.

He Jianguo finally took a sip of tea and said after swallowing, "It's over."

Liao Meiqin looked at him.

"No matter what songs this kid releases after this, he won't be able to escape this one," He Jianguo said, setting down his teacup. "A song like this only comes out once every ten years."

Liao Meiqin didn't argue.

On stage, the bridge passed, and it was the final chorus.

"Don't think about giving up so easily, just like I said—"

"If you can't chase a dream, why not just change it?"

When Lu Zhixian sang this line, a slight smile touched the corners of his mouth.

It wasn't a performance smile; it was a genuine smile from the heart because he truly felt the lyrics were well-written.

Someone in the audience began to hum along.

One person hummed, then two, and then half the theater was humming.

"Cherish everything even if you don't possess it."

The last note fell.

The harmonica outro slowly faded away.

Silence.

The entire theater was silent for about four seconds.

Then, the applause exploded.

It wasn't polite clapping; it was the kind where everyone stood up at once.

Eight hundred people—the sound of chairs being pushed back creaked loudly, and the applause nearly blew the roof off the small theater.

When the girl in the school uniform in the front row stood up, her legs were trembling.

The volunteer beside her was clapping while pulling out her phone—not to take a photo, but to open the donation portal.

Lu Zhixian stood on stage and bowed to the audience.

"Thank you, everyone."

With those three words, he turned and left.

No melodrama, no extra theatrics.

As he walked toward the wings, the host came on. Normally, there should have been a transition before announcing the numbers, but the host was clearly caught up in the atmosphere as well; after stepping onto the stage with his cue cards, he froze for two seconds before steadying his voice.

"Let's take a look at... the latest donation figures."

On the large screen, the numbers jumped out.

814,722 yuan.

Another gasp rippled through the audience.

Even the host was stunned for a moment.

Before Lu Zhixian took the stage, the number was 204,312 yuan.

In the time it took to sing one song, it had increased by 600,000.

The host read an explanation of the data sources from his cue cards.

The online donation channel had been flooded with contributions during Lu Zhixian's performance. Many of the user comments were things like "Came here after hearing fragrance of rice," "Old Lu's fan reporting for duty," and someone even wrote, "If you can't chase a dream, just change it; let's donate first and talk later."

The audience laughed.

But after laughing, it went quiet again.

Because everyone realized one thing.

People who donate money are a minority, and those willing to donate during a charity performance are a minority within a minority.

600,000—behind this number were thousands upon thousands of people who had opened the livestream or seen a share and instinctively clicked the donate button.

This wasn't just being famous.

This was influence.

Backstage, Lu Zhixian took a bottle of water from a staff member and took a sip.

Zhang Zi stood nearby with a complex expression. She had watched the whole thing from backstage.

"Brother Lu, even though I've already finished my performance, after hearing yours..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm even more nervous now."

Lu Zhixian gave a short laugh, patted her shoulder, and said nothing.

He Jianguo walked over, holding his now stone-cold tea.

"Six hundred thousand." The old man held up a finger. "I've worked for thirty years and done dozens of charity performances; my highest record for a single person and a single song was one hundred and twenty thousand. You did five times my record with one song."

"Teacher He, that's because mobile donations are more convenient now."

"Don't you dare be humble with me." He Jianguo huffed, "If you had been around when I was young, I'd have definitely had to compete with you."

Lu Zhixian grinned.

"Then I probably would have had to work even harder."

He Jianguo glared at him, then turned and walked away.

The last two acts finished quickly. One was a chorus, and the other was a recitation.

The final donation figure settled at 912,806 yuan.

When the host announced this number, the audience applauded once more.

More than half of the amount had come from Lu Zhixian's single song.

For the grand finale, all the performing singers and guests were invited onto the stage.

Over a dozen people stood in a row. Liao Meiqin was on the left, He Jianguo was on the right, with musicians of all age groups interspersed in between.

Lu Zhixian was placed toward the right, with Zhang Zi standing beside him.

The host gave a closing speech, essentially thanking everyone for their participation and support, and thanking every donor for their kindness.

Then, everyone together bowed to the audience.

The moment Lu Zhixian bent over, he saw the girl in the school uniform in the front row.

She was no longer crying.

She was clapping.

Clapping with all her might.

As Lu Zhixian straightened up, his gaze met hers.

He gave her a small nod.

The girl froze for a moment, then smiled.

She smiled so hard her tears almost fell again.

After the show ended, Liao Meiqin caught Lu Zhixian backstage.

"Little Lu, give me an autograph so I can go back and report my mission accomplished."

Lu Zhixian took the notebook she handed him, thought for a moment, and wrote a line on it.

"Chasing stars keeps one young. — Lu Zhixian."

Liao Meiqin was so delighted after reading it that she couldn't stop smiling.

He Jianguo passed by and glanced at it.

"You certainly know how to talk."

At eleven that night, Lu Zhixian returned home and opened his phone.

He was on the trending searches again.

#Youth Mental Health Charity Gala#

#Lu Zhixian Charity Performance Raises 600,000#

#He Jianguo and Lu Zhixian Backstage Interaction#

Three hashtags were pinned to the list.

The most ridiculous one was the third. Some staff member had filmed the video of He Jianguo saying "You did five times my record with one song" backstage, and it had been leaked.

The comment section had already spiraled out of control.

"Personally certified by He Jianguo—is this gold standard enough for you?"

"If an Old Cannon with thirty years of charity performances says you're the real deal, then you are."

"Old He: If I were younger, I'd have to compete with you. The whole internet: Old He, are you sure about that?"

"Six hundred thousand, sisters! Six hundred thousand for one song. This isn't a singer; this is a walking donation machine."

"LMAO, Lu Zhixian's commercial value can no longer be measured by endorsement fees; it has to be measured by charity donations."

Official media outlets posted a blog late at night.

The attached photo was of all the singers bowing on stage tonight, with Lu Zhixian's silhouette as he bent over placed right in the center.

The caption read: "The power of music goes beyond the stage. Thank you to every singer who transmits warmth through their voice, and thank you to everyone who responds to kindness with action. The #Youth Mental Health Charity Gala# has concluded successfully, with a cumulative total of over 910,000 yuan raised."

The number of shares broke eighty thousand within an hour.

Old Zhao's message popped up at one in the morning.

"You gained 1.2 million followers across all platforms tonight."

Lu Zhixian was just about to take a shower when he paused upon seeing this message.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. And this is just the middle-of-the-night data; there'll be another surge tomorrow during the day."

Lu Zhixian placed his phone on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.

Twenty-eight years old, debuted less than half a year ago.

He thought back to himself before the transmigration, pulling all-nighters in the studio doing arrangements, thinking of those demos he sent out that vanished into the sea, thinking of those songs no one heard.

The corners of his mouth curved up.

His phone rang again. It was Lin Shiya.

"I saw the official media post."

"Yeah."

"Your current momentum is much fiercer than mine was in my first year after debut."

"So, are you nervous?"

"Nervous about what?"

"Afraid I'll overtake you."

The other side was silent for two seconds.

"Try overtaking me first before you talk."

"Then I'm taking that seriously."

"Suit yourself."

Lu Zhixian locked the screen and placed the phone face down on the table.

He didn't overthink it and turned to enter the bathroom.