"Nanxi, did you watch this week's Red Mansion Dream? It was amazing," Zheng Yingying chimed in.
"Hard to believe Teacher Dai Yang is so... pink in private," Gu Nanxi remarked. "This is the definition of 'two-faced'—totally different on and off stage."
"I was invited to Red Mansion Dream too. If my place wasn't such a mess, I would've agreed," Lin Xia joined the conversation.
"Teacher Dai Yang from the General Political Department Opera Troupe?" Hou Yubin, catching a familiar name, asked, "What does this show have to do with the classic novel?"
"If there aren't any other soprano singers named Dai Yang, then yes, that's the one," Lin Xia said. "Uncle Hou, Red Mansion Dream is a popular reality show where they film celebrities 24/7 in their homes. They even assign tasks for entertainment value."
Zheng Yingying freely discussed other shows because Red Mansion Dream was also produced by Mango TV.
Hou Yubin frowned. "People who enjoy this show probably have a voyeuristic streak—human nature, I suppose. But why name it after Dream of the Red Chamber?"
He didn't dislike the show itself, but he hated the appropriation of a literary classic.
Every show needed a theme—just like how the romance site JJWXC forced pretentious themes onto its stories. Even a show capitalizing on voyeurism needed a noble facade. Before each episode, a couplet was displayed:
"The jade in the box seeks a worthy price,
The hairpin in the case awaits its time to shine."
The lines, borrowed from Dream of the Red Chamber, originally described the ambitions of the impoverished scholar Jia Yucun. The show twisted the metaphor—male guests were the "jade," female guests the "hairpins," and the program framed itself as an observation of rising stars rather than pure voyeurism.
The title Red Mansion Dream was a dual reference: the "Red" alluded to the classic, while "Mansion" came from the surname of the show's producer, Pei Louguo.
After Lin Xia's explanation, Hou Yubin's frown eased, though he remained puzzled. Why would Dai Yang—one of China's top five tenors, renowned across Asia—participate in such a show?
"Nanxi, you misused the term 'two-faced,'" Hou Yubin corrected. "It's a negative phrase. Teacher Dai Yang has given us incredible performances."
"Then I'll put it in quotation marks—that makes it okay," Gu Nanxi said.
"Using a negative term positively does work with quotes," Hou Yubin conceded seriously.
"I wonder what Red Mansion Dream's casting criteria are," Zheng Yingying mused. "They've got opera singers and young actors."
"Let me guess—you want in too?" Lin Xia teased.
Zheng Yingying shot him a look. "Wow, not a useless observation for once. Of course I'd want to be on that show—it's huge right now."
After dissecting the latest reality TV drama, conversation circled back to the usual topic: tonight's challenger. The entertainment industry truly was a vanity fair—discussion revolved around Lin Xia, Hou Yubin, and a few others, leaving the rest sidelined.
Chu Zhi sat quietly, reviewing lyrics in his mind. Soon, the music partners returned with the performance order. Wei Tongzi's luck was mixed: fifth slot was decent, but following Lin Xia meant competing for votes right after a crowd favorite.
"Why fifth? Third or sixth would've been better," Wei Tongzi grumbled.
"At least we're not opening the show," Chu Zhi reassured.
No one wanted to go first—nerves aside, it usually meant lower votes.
So who drew the short straw this time? Koguchi Yoshihiro. His partner Zhang Yue hadn't pulled a favorable slot. After greeting the group, Koguchi headed backstage to change into his performance outfit—black leather with clinking metal chains, full-on heavy metal vibes.
"I wanted to go after Chu-san. Zhang-chan, next time you must make that happen," Koguchi declared, removing his beret. The hallway's warm air ruffled his thinning hair as he mentally prepped for battle.
"Wait, hadn't he previously wanted to follow Lin Xia? When did this change?"
Zhang Yue hesitated before cautiously mentioning Chu Zhi's scandals—rumors of being kept, secret marriage, plagiarism, etc. He held no personal grudge but worried Koguchi's enthusiasm might backfire.
"Impossible!" Koguchi snapped instantly. "All lies. Chu-san could never be that kind of person."
"??" Zhang Yue blinked. How could a Japanese singer be so certain?
"Appearance reflects the soul. Just look at Chu-san—he's clearly a good man," Koguchi insisted.
"..." Zhang Yue was speechless. Koguchi's expression radiated absolute conviction—proof that for some, beauty was morality.
"Zhang-chan, don't believe those rumors. Someone must envy Chu-san," Koguchi advised solemnly.
"...Okay." Zhang Yue realized: to a true believer, no logic could shake their faith.
Onstage, the host's introduction concluded. Koguchi launched into "Mt. Everest is Liquid," a rhythmic dance track originally by Gu Nanxi. His remix added drumbeats and shamisen, transforming it into a battle-shonen OP.
[Liquid Everest,
Melting with time's flow.
Gaseous love,
Expands, vanishes...]
The original lyrics used the mountain as a metaphor for fading love, but Koguchi's version sounded ready to punch Everest into submission.
Audience votes: 666
A fun number, but a drop from his previous 699 (one short of Chu Zhi's last score). Whether I Am a Singer used planted audience members was unclear—officially, voters were selected from public applicants. This week's crowd seemed harsher.
The next two performers also scored lower than usual.
Then came the fourth act.
"Next up: the first Chinese artist to win the AMA's International Artist of the Year. His talent is undeniable—please welcome Lin Xia, performing 'Glass Flowers!'" Gu Nanxi announced.
(The show loved flexing contestants' achievements—always rotating for maximum prestige.)
Before he even began, Lin Xia had already won—via costume.
His outfit was stunning: a medieval-style armor recreated in transparent plastic, refracting stage lights like actual glass. If life were a race, Lin Xia had sprinted past the starting line in designer gear while others were still lacing their shoes.
Skill-wise, Lin Xia couldn't touch Hou Yubin—but against typical idol-group pretty boys? Total annihilation.
His operatic rendition of "Glass Flowers" was a career-best. High notes effortless, emotions seamless—even he felt the magic. The four-minute performance earned roaring applause and 725 votes, surpassing Hou Yubin's last-episode win (716).
A triumph.
Then—
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Red lights flashed. The shrill alarm signaled: A challenger approaches.