Thirty-six hours remained until the recording of the semi-finals.

Sister Chen placed her phone on the table, screen facing up; the trending searches were updating in real-time, and the topic had already reached third place.

"It's still not too late to change it," she said calmly, though her hand was pressed firmly against the tabletop.

"I can give Li Chengyuan a call; he can come over at any time. The new song is ready, and since the two of you have worked together before, there won't be any problems."

No one spoke in the rehearsal room.

The light of Hangzhou shone in from outside the window, illuminating the upright piano.

Sister Chen continued, "It's not that I don't believe in this song. I just feel that part of the live voting is based on emotion. With the public opinion being what it is, the audience will enter with a bias, which will affect their judgment."

She spoke very practically, and every point she made was logical.

Lin Shiya didn't move; she just sat there with her phone face down on her lap.

After a moment of silence, she looked up at Lu Zhixian.

"What do you think?"

Lu Zhixian leaned against the side of the piano, his arm resting on the lid, and didn't reply immediately.

He glanced out the window and then brought his gaze back.

"There's nothing wrong with this song," he said.

"You're not wrong, and I'm certainly not wrong."

He paused for a beat.

"The ones in the wrong are the eavesdroppers. Why should we back down?"

He spoke with no room for negotiation.

Sister Chen looked at him and said nothing.

Lin Shiya picked up the phone from her lap, gripped it for a moment, and placed it on the table.

"We're not changing it."

Two words, without even a pause.

"We'll sing it as planned."

Sister Chen closed her eyes for a moment, grabbed her phone, and stood up. "Fine, then I'll go prepare the PR strategy."

She walked to the door and looked back. "But you have to give me something I can use."

Lu Zhixian had already sat down on the piano bench. He placed his fingers on the keys and looked up. "What time is the directing team coming?"

The directing team arrived at three in the afternoon.

The head director didn't show up in person; instead, the assistant director came with two producers, carrying a cautiously worded document. The core message was a single sentence.

Public opinion continues to ferment; it is suggested to evaluate changing the competition song.

Lin Shiya didn't take the document.

Lu Zhixian took it, flipped through a couple of pages, and placed it on the coffee table.

"You want to settle this matter, right?"

The assistant director nodded. "The current pressure from public sentiment..."

"Then don't block it; guide it," Lu Zhixian interrupted him.

"The core of the online debate right now is two things: first, whether this song was leaked in advance; second, whether using an original song is unfair."

He picked up the water glass next to him and took a sip.

"The first issue is that someone leaked it on purpose. The production team is looking into that, right?"

The assistant director said, "Yes, but there's no conclusion yet."

"The second issue is even simpler." Lu Zhixian put the glass back.

"The program rules don't forbid original songs. Other contestants can use them too. If they don't have the ability, that's their problem, not ours."

The assistant director was silent for a second.

"But the current direction of public opinion..."

"I have a plan," Lu Zhixian said.

"Before the competition, we'll proactively issue a public statement that this song is an original. At the same time, we'll release a formal a cappella preview. Not the full version—just fifteen seconds."

The producers looked at each other.

"Won't that make it even more heated?" the assistant director asked.

"The heat has already been ignited by them," Lu Zhixian looked at him.

"So let's not waste the fire."

At 10:07 PM that night, Lin Shiya's studio's official account posted a Weibo.

There was no text.

A fifteen-second video, black screen. When Lin Shiya's voice came in, there was no intro—it was a cappella.

"I pray to have a transparent soul..."

Just that one line. The volume wasn't high, and the ending was clean.

Then the screen went black with three words.

See you on stage.

Four minutes after the video was posted, the comment section began to break down.

"Just this one line, and I already want to hear the full version."

"I was on the bus without headphones and listened to it once. The auntie next to me asked what song I was playing."

"The so-called leak—this is what was leaked? If they change the song, I'm going to camp outside the production team's door."

"Insane. Those people calling for a song change aren't going after the person who leaked it; instead, they're demanding the victim change the song."

Within twenty minutes, the topic surged to the top of the trending searches, completely knocking off the previous "leak" entry.

The previous voices mocking "rigging" and "unfairness" were buried under layers of comments from passersby, impossible to dig up.

The assistant director of the production team stared at the data screen for a long time before saying something to the producer next to him.

"This Lu Zhixian, has he worked in PR before?"

The producer shook his head. "We checked. No, he's just a singer."

The assistant director picked up the document next to him, folded it, and threw it into the trash.

Next door.

Shen Yihang's manager handed over the phone. Shen Yihang glanced at the fifteen-second video, handed it back, and said nothing.

The manager waited for a few seconds. "How should we respond?"

"Post Kevin's rehearsal photos," Shen Yihang picked up his water glass again.

"Post the most hype one."

Rehearsal was the following afternoon.

Shen Yihang's group went first.

In the center of the stage, the mechanical lift rose from the ground. Kevin stood at the highest point as electronic music tracks poured out from speakers in all directions, the low frequencies making the floor vibrate slightly.

Lasers cut down from the ceiling, and smoke sprayed out from the sides of the stage; the entire stage's visual layers were stacked four or five deep.

The live directing team stood behind the control desk, looking around. Someone lowered their voice and said, "This setup is truly explosive."

Someone nearby nodded. "Just the lasers and smoke machines used up this much budget, and that's not even counting the lighting later."

The rehearsal ended, and the applause was genuine, spontaneously coming from the staff.

Then it was Lin Shiya's group's turn for the walkthrough.

The technical team began adjusting the stage.

All special effects were removed and cleared.

Only one beam of light remained, shining down from the top onto the spot where a person would stand in the center of the stage.

The background screen slowly lit up—a night sky with stars flowing at a slow pace.

A guitar was placed nearby.

A staff member standing behind the control desk whispered, "Won't the visual difference be too much?"

The person next to him didn't respond.

Lu Zhixian heard it from the side of the stage and turned his head. "Truly bright things don't rely on many lights."

Just that one sentence, and after saying it, he had already walked up.

He picked up the guitar.

When the sound came out, even the hum of the air conditioning in the rehearsal hall seemed a bit louder than before.

Lin Shiya walked to the center of the stage, and that beam of light fell on her.

She didn't make any preparatory movements; she just stood there and opened her mouth.

"The Brightest Star in the Night Sky."

"Do you hear clearly?"

Behind the control desk, the staff member who had just been saying "won't the visual impact lose out" stopped mid-sentence.

The person next to him didn't chime in either.

When it reached the chorus, Lin Shiya's voice opened up.

"I pray to have a transparent soul."

"And eyes that can shed tears."

"Give me the courage to believe again."

"Oh, to cross over lies and embrace you."

Lu Zhixian's harmony followed hers closely, half a position lower, pressed beneath her voice, catching her every emotion without a single note overstepping.

"The person looking up, the loneliness and sighs at the bottom of their heart..."

As the last line ended, Lin Shiya's voice remained alone in the venue, echoing for a few seconds.

Then, there was silence.

No one behind the control desk spoke.

The staff member who had previously asked if the visual difference would be too much gripped their walkie-talkie again but didn't say a word.

The head director stood at the very back, looking at the stage. He twisted the cap of his pen and then twisted it back on.

After a few seconds, he spoke, his voice very flat.

"No need to change the lighting. Keep it like this."

The official recording notice was sent to each group that evening.

Accompanied by a drawing result.

Sister Chen stared at her phone for two seconds and then turned the screen toward Lin Shiya.

Performance order:

Group 1: Han Yue x Zhou Qi.

Group 2: Su Chi x Li Zhi.

Group 3: Shen Yihang x Kevin.

Group 4: Lin Shiya x Lu Zhixian.

Lin Shiya took a look and handed the phone back to Sister Chen.

Sister Chen put away the phone and said, "Last to perform."

Her tone was hard to describe, whether it was relief or something else. "Shen Yihang's group is right before you."

Lin Shiya didn't respond; she walked to the window and looked outside.

Lu Zhixian stood up from the sofa, put his hands in his pockets, walked over, stood beside her, and glanced outside.

Hangzhou's night lights were on, and the river surface below reflected the light.

After a while, Lin Shiya said, "Don't be late tomorrow."

Lu Zhixian said, "I'm never late."