Two in the morning. The top trending topic on Weibo had changed.

The hashtag #SuggestVisitOtolaryngology followed by a deep red "Explosion" icon.

Clicking into the tag, the first post was a screenshot of Lu Zhixian's main account replying to a netizen.

The late-night owl brigade on the platform was now completely wide awake.

“Lu Zhixian's mouth has definitely been blessed with a curse.”

“Certified real person in the entertainment industry! He's the only celebrity I've seen these days who dares to use his main account to directly confront hate comments.”

“No lies detected. Saying Lin Shiya uses pitch correction—you really should visit the ear department and get your brain checked.”

Shen Yihang's fan group exploded.

Top fans organized a counterattack overnight. Since they couldn't beat Lin Shiya's track record, they directed all their spears at Lu Zhixian.

At four in the morning, several entertainment big Vs simultaneously released a video. The content was the footage of Lu Zhixian accompanying the street singer Old Li in Jingzhou late at night.

The captions were eerily identical: “A certain male star has gone obsessed with his persona. Taking a professional photography team to the streets at midnight to accompany a commoner, just to hype up his 'grounded' image. Now he’s back to leech off the Diva's popularity; his greed is unsightly.”

The internet water army quickly occupied the comment section.

“So the street accompaniment was a script. Truly disgusting.”

“Leeching off a commoner then a Diva, Lu Zhixian's marketing team is truly something.”

“Shen Yihang is so pitiful, being bled dry by this rumored couple.”

The direction of public opinion was being forcibly muddied.

Eight in the morning. Jingzhou.

Old Zhao sat in his office, watching the trend of public opinion. He picked up his phone, preparing to contact the PR department to cool down the heat.

Before he could press the call button, a new notification popped up.

The publisher's ID was “Singing Old Li.”

Opening the video, Old Li was sitting on a single bed in a rental room, holding that old guitar Lu Zhixian had signed. He hadn't used any filters; the corners of his eyes were full of wrinkles, and his stubble was white.

“I'm that commoner who was singing on the street,” Old Li said to the camera, his voice a bit dry.

“I don't know why those big Vs online are spreading rumors. Teacher Lu came alone, without even an assistant. He borrowed my guitar, played a song, and even gave me an autograph.”

Old Li patted the guitar in his hands.

“I'm just a street busker; I don't even make three thousand yuan a month. What could Teacher Lu want from me? My broken guitar?”

Old Li took a deep breath and looked directly at the camera.

“If Teacher Lu wanted to market himself, there’s no need to waste time on a small streamer like me. He respects music, and he respects me.”

The video was short, less than a minute.

But this video was shared a hundred thousand times within half an hour.

The skateboarders who watched that day, the office workers passing by—one after another, they dropped raw photos and short videos they had taken with their phones into the comment section.

Every angle was covered, the image quality was blurry, and the background noise was chaotic.

The evidence was as solid as a mountain.

Public opinion reversed instantly.

“Big Vs, come out and take your beating! The videos from passersby were right in his face; where's this professional photography team?”

“Using a commoner to spread rumors, Shen Yihang's fans are truly despicable.”

“Lu Zhixian's attitude toward ordinary musicians is ten thousand times better than some high-and-mighty top stars.”

The storm subsided faster than expected. The general public completely sided with Lu Zhixian.

Shanghai. Hotel dressing room.

Lin Shiya sat in front of the mirror, letting the stylist do her hair.

She looked at the trending topics on her phone, swiped her finger across the screen twice, and opened WeChat.

“You don't need to speak up for me.”

Two seconds later, the other side replied.

“I wasn't doing it for you, I was doing it for my ears.”

Lin Shiya looked at this line of text.

The dressing room was very quiet, with only the sound of the hairdryer running.

The corners of Lin Shiya's mouth curled up slightly. A very faint smile appeared on her face.

Sister Chen happened to push the door open, carrying two cups of iced Americano. She saw Lin Shiya's expression in the mirror at a glance.

Sister Chen stopped in her tracks and placed the coffee on the table.

“That smile of yours is more dangerous than responding to a dating rumor,” Sister Chen said, looking at her.

Lin Shiya put away her phone. “I just saw a joke.”

“Don't give me that,” Sister Chen sat down in a chair. “The third episode is being recorded this afternoon. The production team is stirring up trouble.”

Lin Shiya looked up.

“The director's team added a segment last minute,” Sister Chen sneered. “An acappella assessment. All singers go on stage and perform a chorus without accompaniment, recorded live without any effect processors.”

Lin Shiya didn't speak.

“It's obvious the production team is doing this to respond to the 'pitch correction controversy' online, intentionally creating a gimmick,” Sister Chen analyzed.

“And incidentally giving Shen Yihang's team a way out. As long as he can hold his own in the acappella today, his fans can stick the 'talented vocalist' label on him for good.”

“He won't hold up,” Lin Shiya's tone was flat.

“What?”

“His breath is in his chest, it hasn't reached his diaphragm. He can't hit the high notes.” Lin Shiya picked up the sheet music on the table.

Two in the afternoon. Hangzhou Olympic Sports Center Studio.

Recording for the third episode officially began.

The host Li Zhi walked to the center of the stage with the script and announced the newly added "Acappella Assessment" segment.

A massive roar of surprise erupted from the audience.

In the backstage lounge, several singers looked at each other.

Shen Yihang sat on the sofa, his fingers unconsciously picking at the seam of his pants. His manager stood behind him, face grim.

They had protested, but the director's team used the contract to pressure them. Not singing meant withdrawing from the competition.

“Don't panic,” the manager whispered. “Pick the slow song you know best, and sing it half a key lower. As long as your voice doesn't crack, we'll find marketing accounts to hype up your 'unique timbre' later.”

Shen Yihang nodded, stood up, and walked toward the tunnel.

The stage lights came on.

No accompaniment, no in-ear monitors.

Shen Yihang picked up the microphone.

He chose his signature song. The first four lines were in the low-to-mid range, and he barely managed to get through by relying on the graininess of his voice.

When it reached the chorus, the melody began to climb.

He needed a long breath to support the upcoming high notes.

He took a deep breath.

The sound came out. But on the highest note, his breath failed him.

The sound instantly became weak, and the tail of the note shook noticeably.

The whole place went quiet.

At the judges' table, Zhou Qiming's brow furrowed, and he directly put down the pen in his hand.

Another music critic looked down at their notes to hide the embarrassment.

Shen Yihang finished the last line and put down the microphone, his forehead covered in sweat.

He didn't even dare to look at the judges' table, hurriedly bowed, and walked off the stage.

The bullet comments exploded at this moment.

“Sweating buckets now, aren't you, bro?”

“His breath was so weak I thought he just finished a thousand-meter run.”

“This is the legendary talented vocalist? The domestic entertainment industry is doomed.”

“Without the million-dollar pitch corrector, a top star turns into a KTV amateur in seconds.”

The next few singers were mediocre.

Then it was Lin Shiya's turn.

She was wearing a simple white shirt and black wide-leg pants. She walked directly to the standing mic in the center of the stage.

She didn't choose her own song.

She chose an extremely obscure classical bel canto piece.

The moment the first note came out, Zhou Qiming snapped his head up.

The voice pierced through the entire studio. Clear, ethereal.

Without the cover of accompaniment, any slight flaw would be infinitely magnified. But there were no impurities in her voice.

When she reached the high notes, she didn't use falsetto, but pushed through with her chest voice.

Her breath was long and terrifyingly stable.

Twenty seconds.

She finished the last line, the tail of the note echoing in the studio, slowly tapering off until it completely vanished.

The whole place was dead silent.

Three seconds later, thunderous applause erupted.

Zhou Qiming picked up the microphone and looked at Lin Shiya on stage.

“I take back what I said before,” Zhou Qiming said. “You don't just not need to prove yourself. You could actually give some people lessons.”

He didn't name names, but everyone knew who he was talking about.

Backstage lounge.

Shen Yihang stared at the screen, his face deathly pale.

For the first time, he clearly realized that in the face of absolute raw talent, traffic and fan-controlled comments meant nothing.

After the program aired, Lin Shiya's acappella clip dominated the charts.

Vocal teachers from major music conservatories used this video as a teaching case.

The bullet comments were uniformly spamming the same sentence.

“Is this the 'visit the ear department' that Lu Zhixian was talking about?”

“I'm sorry, I've already made my appointment.”

Shen Yihang's fans completely went silent. Under the crushing weight of absolute skill, any rebuttal seemed pale and laughable.

At the studio.

The third episode's competition had all ended.

Host Li Zhi walked onto the stage holding the final ranking card.

“Congratulations to Lin Shiya for winning first place again this episode!”

Amidst the applause, the smile on Li Zhi's face became mysterious.

“Next, I'm going to announce the brand-new format for the next stage of peak voice.”

Four large words appeared on the big screen: Top Four Battle.

“The singers who enter the Top Four will welcome a special stage in the next episode,” Li Zhi raised his voice.

“Each of you can invite one guest performer—that is, a friend from within the industry—to collaborate on a competition song!”

The audience erupted in an uproar.

The camera instantly cut to Lin Shiya's face.

She looked calmly at the front of the stage.

The bullet comments went completely insane at this moment.

The screen was filled with only one name.

“Lu Zhixian!”

“Lu Zhixian!”

“Production team, I advise you not to be ungrateful—get Lu Zhixian here for me right now!”

“Is the Ya-Xuan Late Night Radio finally going to meet in person?!!!”

Jingzhou.

Lu Zhixian watched the format announcement on the TV screen and raised an eyebrow.

The phone on the coffee table began to vibrate.

Caller ID: Old Zhao.

Lu Zhixian picked up the phone.

“The director's team just called me,” Old Zhao's voice carried a hint of eerie excitement.

“If Lin Shiya invites you as a guest, they're willing to offer an astronomical appearance fee. They're asking if you're interested in going to Hangzhou to be a guest performer.”

Lu Zhixian leaned back on the sofa, his finger tapping his knee.

“Didn't you tell me to give it the cold treatment?”

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

“To hell with the cold treatment,” Old Zhao gritted his teeth. “The money is too... ahem. Mainly, if we don't ride this wave of popularity, it would be a crime against heaven.”