Han Yue's group was the opening act.

The soprano stood in the center of the stage, and as soon as she opened her mouth, the atmospheric pressure of the entire venue shot up a notch.

With her solid foundation, every high note landed steadily, and the applause was genuine—not the kind manufactured by fan clubs, but the spontaneous sound of the entire audience.

After Han Yue's final line, the scene fell silent for nearly three seconds, and then it exploded.

The host stood at the side of the stage, microphone raised, with an expression of genuine shock.

“This is the opening of tonight's Top 4 competition. Now I declare that the clash of the titans has officially begun.”

The second group, Su Chi's, didn't go for a grand spectacle.

With folk guitar and a rap foundation, the way the two on stage coordinated didn't feel like a collaboration; it felt like they were telling the same story, one narrating and the other following.

When the final section quieted down to just the guitar, two of the judges at the panel put down their pens.

Not all highlights require screams from the crowd.

A staff member in the backstage corridor lowered their head to their walkie-talkie. “The judges' scores for the second group are very high.”

After that was said, someone glanced toward the backstage waiting area.

Shen Yihang's group was the third to perform.

Kevin arrived early and stood on the lift platform, wearing over-ear headphones and closing his eyes as if doing a final pre-competition check.

The lights went out.

Then, a low frequency surged up from beneath the floor, causing some in the audience to stand up immediately.

Lasers cut down from the ceiling in a whole matrix; the angles, colors, and timing were so precise it made people doubt it was a manual operation.

Smoke billowed from the sides of the stage, and the layers of the stage design were fully stacked within three seconds.

When Shen Yihang walked out from the wings, the fan section was already on the verge of losing it.

One could tell he had prepared more thoroughly this time than for any previous episode.

His singing and dancing stability held firm; even when his physical strength dipped in the final section, his voice didn't crack.

The timing of Kevin's drop was perfect, pushing the atmosphere of the entire venue to its peak for the night in that single second.

The screaming drowned out the speakers.

In the public jury section, hands holding up signs were raised almost in unison.

As the performance ended, Shen Yihang stood in the center of the stage, panting with his chest heaving. He caught a glow stick thrown from below and instinctively glanced toward the left wing.

That was the waiting area.

Lin Shiya was in that direction.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a slight smirk. With no particular expression, his gaze lingered for two seconds before turning back to wave at the crowd.

The backstage waiting area was about twenty meters from the stage exit.

When the score flashed onto the secondary screen, Sister Chen stared at the numbers for three seconds and tightened her grip on her phone.

“Their score is too high.”

Her voice was very low, but it was still clear in the narrow corridor.

Lu Zhixian sat on a folding chair nearby, head down as he plucked a guitar string to tune it, without looking up.

“High is good.”

His finger lightly brushed the string, letting the resonance fade.

“Otherwise, winning is meaningless.”

Sister Chen turned to look at him with an unreadable expression. Finally, she stuffed her phone into her pocket and didn't respond.

Lin Shiya stood two steps away from him, wearing one in-ear monitor while the other hung loose, a microphone in her hand.

She glanced sideways at him.

“Are you always this arrogant?”

Lu Zhixian thought about it seriously.

“Depends on the situation.” He tilted the guitar, plucking the same string again. The pitch was right, and he nodded.

“Generally, I'm more arrogant when I have the strength to back it up.”

Lin Shiya didn't reply.

But the tension she had been holding onto quietly eased a little.

She put on the other in-ear monitor, closed her eyes to listen for a few seconds to confirm everything was fine, and then opened them again.

The lights in the corridor were white work lights, making everyone look very stark.

Lu Zhixian sat there with the guitar across his lap, his expression showing no tension at all, as if he were just casually sitting in some rehearsal room.

Lin Shiya looked at him for a second before pulling her gaze back.

The host's voice came from the direction of the stage, followed by some transitional video clips, judges' comments, and then the intermission.

There were about eight minutes left.

Sister Chen turned down the volume on her walkie-talkie and leaned against the wall; her phone screen didn't light up again.

She had seen the data just now. Ever since Shen Yihang's group finished, the live comments had been flooding with 'The Most Explosive Stage,' and the trending hashtag currently being pushed was 'Tonight belongs to this group.'

She didn't say this out loud.

Saying it wouldn't help anyway.

Lu Zhixian stood up, slung the guitar strap over his shoulder, supported the body of the instrument with one hand, and walked a few steps toward the stage. He stopped at the exit and glanced at the stage lights inside.

The intermission lights were stark white, making the stage look flat.

He watched for a few seconds and then turned back.

“I got feedback from the sound engineers. The guitar channel gain is three points higher tonight than in rehearsal. I had them adjust it back,” he told Lin Shiya.

“If the reverb in your monitors feels a bit thick, give me a look on your right side, and I'll have the stage-side crew handle it.”

Lin Shiya nodded. “Okay.”

“Also,” he paused for a moment.

“I'll leave you four bars before the first line comes in. Don't rush.”

“I know.”

“Even if you know, I'm still saying it.”

Lin Shiya glanced at him and didn't argue.

The corridor fell silent again. A burst of applause came from the stage—it was the gap after the video clip ended. The commotion from the audience seeped through the door panels.

The host's voice was announcing tonight's voting data.

When the numbers for Shen Yihang's group were announced, another round of applause erupted.

Sister Chen looked down at the tips of her shoes.

Lu Zhixian gave the guitar strings one last pluck to check the tuning, then rested his hand on the strings to kill the vibration.

The host's voice came through the door clearly.

“Next, please welcome tonight's final group: Lin Shiya and her guest performer!!”

There was a one-beat pause.

“Lu Zhixian!”

The live comments on the screen blurred into a single line.

Lu Zhixian walked toward the exit with his guitar on his back, his pace neither fast nor slow.

Lin Shiya followed half a step behind him.

The main stage lights all went out.

The cheers from the audience were suppressed in the darkness, but they didn't dissipate.

Lu Zhixian walked to the guitar position and placed his fingers on the strings.

Only one beam of light remained on stage, hanging from the ceiling and falling on a spot right in the center.

Lin Shiya stepped into that beam of light.

She stood within that circular glow with her head lowered, without speaking or moving.

Then, the large background screen began to light up slowly from the bottom up.

A night sky.

The first star quietly lit up at the edge of the screen.