Chu Zhi's second appearance on I Am a Singer followed the show's song selection rule: Perform a song that has already been sung on stage by another contestant (not your own). In other words, he had to cover a song performed by one of the other competitors.
This was brutal. With a stellar performance already delivered on the same stage, comparisons were inevitable. The song Chu Zhi chose was Deserted Island, performed by Koguchi Yoshihiro in the previous episode. His reasoning mirrored the Japanese singer's—Deserted Island was simple to sing, requiring little technical skill.
"For the arrangement, I'd like the piano to sound brighter," Chu Zhi requested. After a moment's thought, Liang Pingbo, the music director, began working on a basic arrangement.
Deserted Island was a melancholic love song. Though its main melody wasn't the typical G-major triad (5-7-2) or D-major seventh chord (2-4-6-1), it was still bound by the conventions of love songs.
Anyone who had seen the Deserted Island music video would know it told the story of a couple reuniting in a foreign country after a breakup. At Chu Zhi's request, Liang Pingbo altered the chord progression to the classic Pachelbel sequence: C–G–Am–Em–F–C–F/Dm–G, derived from Canon in D by the 17th-century German composer Johann Pachelbel. This world had diverged from Earth's timeline starting in the 19th century, but before that, history remained largely the same.
Earth's songs like Goodbye My Love and King of Karaoke also used this chord progression—a universal formula for love songs. The resulting melody wasn't overwhelmingly sorrowful. Once the arrangement was finalized, Chu Zhi began his first rehearsal.
[Round and round, we meet and part,
Everyone knows—you in the south, me in the north.
Looking back, only I still cling to the past,
I shouldn't hope,
That your future still holds me…]
Chu Zhi had practiced the song during breaks at the hotel, at least memorizing the lyrics so he wouldn't forget them on stage.
Liang Pingbo listened closely through his headphones and applauded after the performance. Though Chu Zhi didn't employ complex techniques, his delivery was deeply emotional, perfectly capturing the heartache of lost love.
"Your voice is rich and full, Teacher Chu, but the slow, drawn-out melody might swallow some of the emotion," Liang Pingbo said. "We could enhance the mood with violins and electric guitars. I believe the final result would be more impactful."
It was a good suggestion. Based on Chu Zhi's current musical knowledge, the music director's advice was spot-on and would undoubtedly improve the piece. But Chu Zhi declined.
"I think the melody is fine as it is. Thank you for your hard work, Director Liang," Chu Zhi said. "And thank you to all the band members as well."
"If you insist." Liang Pingbo noted that this was the second time his suggestion had been rejected.
After another rehearsal, the emotional delivery remained just as powerful. On I Am a Singer, where big voices dominated, singing a soft, lyrical love song usually led to disastrous results. "The Wind Blows the Wheat Fields" had earned second place thanks to its originality and beautiful tone—a rare exception. "Deserted Island", however, faced an uphill battle.
This wasn't arrogance on Chu Zhi's part—he was deliberately holding back. In just two days, he had mastered the core technique of "The Voice of Despair" and could adjust its intensity at will. During the rehearsal, he had only used 10% of its power, yet the music director had already praised his emotional delivery. What would happen if he used 50%?
Despair was different from heartbreak or wistful longing, but at their core, they were all forms of sorrow—close enough.
Why not go all out? Chu Zhi had tested it at home. At 80% intensity, his voice could move listeners to tears, drowning them in overwhelming despair. For a song about lost love, 50% was already overkill. The reason he kept the melody slow and subdued was to highlight the emotional weight of his voice—a small trick.
After rehearsing, Chu Zhi didn't leave immediately. Instead, he wandered around the audience seating, running his hands over the chairs. This wasn't random—he wanted to familiarize himself with the studio environment to ease his nerves before the competition. Whether it worked or not, it was worth a try.
To Wei Tongzi, Chu Zhi seemed sentimental. As the saying goes: "When a man stops loving a woman, everything she does is wrong—whether she cries, stays silent, lives, or even dies." Similarly, when a woman views a man through rose-tinted glasses, everything he does seems admirable.
"Teacher Chu must know his song won't score well, so he's reluctant to leave the stage," Wei Tongzi imagined, her heart aching for the slender figure lingering in the spotlight.
About half an hour later, the last of the original contestants arrived for rehearsal: Lin Xia.
Contrary to what one might think, the order of rehearsals wasn't determined by seniority. The biggest stars had their schedules accommodated by the production team. Lin Xia, busy with other commitments, had pushed his rehearsal to the latest slot. Hou Yubin and Koguchi Yoshihiro had rehearsed much earlier. Chu Zhi, with no leverage, had to wait for the program's scheduling.
Lin Xia worked closely with his usual arrangement team, discussing the direction and details of the song's adaptation. Liang Pingbo, as music director, provided minor suggestions.
Most artists had dedicated arrangers sent by their agencies. Someone like Chu Zhi, working alone, was a rarity. After all, a great vocal performance was never just the work of one person.
"Someone's over there—is that Chu Zhi?" Lin Xia's gaze landed on the figure still wandering the audience seats. Before his rehearsal, he decided to greet him.
His manager, Brother Xian, frowned. "Chu Zhi's online reputation isn't great. Be careful not to get dragged into any drama."
"It's just a greeting. Filming hasn't started yet—no drama to worry about," Lin Xia said before walking over to exchange a few words with Chu Zhi.
The interaction was awkward. After the initial greeting, neither knew what to say next. They weren't familiar with each other. Their fanbases had overlapped significantly in the past, but there wasn't much to talk about.
"Maybe discuss music?"
Lin Xia, ever the awkward conversationalist, asked, "How's your practice with Deserted Island going?"
"I can sing it through smoothly. Should be decent," Chu Zhi replied stiffly. This wasn't his usual demeanor—his body still struggled with sudden social interactions.
"I've been learning to write lyrics lately. The lyrics for The Wind Blows the Wheat Fields are beautiful. We should exchange ideas sometime," Lin Xia said. "I'll go rehearse now."
"I really like Glass Flowers," Chu Zhi responded.
"Hope we meet again… next time," Lin Xia said.
Their brief exchange ended there. Chu Zhi didn't stay to watch Lin Xia's rehearsal—it might seem like he was scouting the competition—so he left with his music partner, Wei Tongzi.
Glass Flowers was a classic '90s hit in this world. Zheng Yingying had covered it in the third episode, earning her third place—her best result so far.
Lin Xia had mastered the art of stage performance. The original arrangement of Glass Flowers leaned toward folk music, while Zheng's version was more pop-oriented. Lin's adaptation, however, was "clever"—structured like a Neapolitan opera (fast-slow-fast) with a choir accompaniment.
It had high notes, bold rearrangements, and was a familiar song to the audience—a combination that easily scored high. As long as his performance was stable, Lin Xia's goal was to secure second place and aim for first.
After two rehearsals, Liang Pingbo praised, "A stunning rendition. Your vocals keep improving, Teacher Lin."
"Without Director Liang and the band's hard work, my version would lose half its charm," Lin Xia said humbly.
"Looking forward to your results. You'll do great," Liang Pingbo said.
"I'll do great! Unless I don't," Lin Xia declared firmly.
"..." The music director found the statement oddly phrased.
"Director Liang, if I may ask—how were Teacher Hou and Teacher Chu's rehearsals?" Lin Xia inquired.
"Teacher Hou's skills are as strong as ever. As for Teacher Chu..." Liang Pingbo hesitated. "His singing was good, but a soft, lyrical song like Deserted Island isn't the wisest choice."
For some reason, Lin Xia felt inexplicably relieved. "Maybe Teacher Chu has his own interpretation of the arrangement."
Liang Pingbo recalled the last rehearsal, where Chu Zhi had suggested replacing the Irish harp with a mezzo-oboe—an improvement. The man did have ideas. They'd see how it played out.
Lin Xia's assistants and manager, Brother Xian, quickly packed up to leave. Typically, an artist was accompanied by an on-the-go manager and a primary manager. The latter was determined by seniority, while the former was a stepping stone for newcomers in the industry—after all, only by shadowing artists could one build connections. Handling commercial deals and ads back at the office? That was the company's job.
Brother Xian, Lin Xia's primary manager, asked, "Why the interest in Chu Zhi?"
Asking about Hou Yubin made sense—the veteran singer was a major obstacle on the path to victory. But Chu Zhi? He wasn't even "infamous" anymore—just "notorious."
"All handsome men have high standards. He's one of the few Asians whose looks could rival mine," Lin Xia joked shamelessly. Then, turning serious, he added, "I just have this feeling… that Chu Zhi might make a comeback."
"Not even if the sky falls!" Brother Xian retorted as they headed to the underground parking lot.
Outside the Golden Eagle Building, fans—tipped off by fan club leaders—had gathered, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol. But Lin Xia's van drove off without stopping. When you were this popular, you could afford to be capricious.