Were the singers in the waiting room looking forward to Chu Zhi's performance? Not particularly.
This wasn't personal. After the last round, Hou Yubin had looked up Chu Zhi's background. While he agreed that "virtue precedes artistry, character precedes performance," he couldn't deny the young man's talent. The problem was, this round wasn't about original songs—it was "Deserted Island." The simpler a song, the more it relied on technique. And Chu Zhi's technical skills…
Lin Xia, Li Xingwei, and Zheng Yingying all thought the same.
The only one burning with anticipation was Koguchi Yoshihiro. He was even a little excited—Chu Zhi was singing the same song as him.
Standing before hundreds of listeners again, Chu Zhi realized one thing: rehearsing in front of an empty audience did nothing to curb his nerves. He was still tense—but noticeably less than last time. Because now, he had a cheat code. Confidence.
As "Deserted Island" began, its light prelude felt like an outsider narrating someone else's emotions.
[Despair's Voice] activated—50% intensity!
The moment Chu Zhi sang his first line, it was drenched in story—or more accurately, disaster.
His soft, confessional tone dragged every listener—audience and contestants alike—into the song's world. At just 10% intensity, music director Liang Pingbo had praised his "emotional richness." Multiply that by five?
"Deserted Island" was originally about the melancholy of reuniting with an ex-lover abroad. Koguchi's rendition had leaned into White Album-style romantic angst. But Chu Zhi's version? It sounded like his ex had died.
The sorrow was Shakespearean—Romeo and Juliet meets Butterfly Lovers. A fusion of tragedies. A smart man doesn't flaunt his weaknesses. Chu Zhi's vocal habits, placement, resonance, enunciation, and transitions were all flawed. His strengths? His face. And his cheat.
So he abandoned technique entirely. By the chorus, his voice cracked—
[Round and round, we meet just to part,
Everyone knows—you're south, I'm north.
Looking back, only I still cling,
I shouldn't hope,
That your future holds me…]
The crack on "still cling" didn't ruin the song. It enhanced it—a raw, desperate scream in the void.
The bass and guitar melodies stood no chance. They were drowned by a voice that sounded like it was weeping. The spotlight captured every detail: his plain clothes, bloodless face, and ashen lips. Several women in the audience teared up.
When the three-minute song ended, the stage went dark. Silence.
Last time, "Wind Blows Through the Wheat Fields" left everyone in peaceful quiet. This time? The silence was a storm cloud of grief pressing down on the crowd.
Then—sniffles.
"Thank you to Music Director Liang Pingbo for the arrangement, and to the band for their accompaniment," Chu Zhi said briskly before exiting.
Even his departure couldn't lift the gloom. Host Gu Nanxi took an extra thirty seconds to compose herself before walking onstage.
"I'm not shallow—I just can't stand watching beautiful people suffer. What kind of heartbreak did Chu Zhi go through?" she wondered, before remembering her job:
"Let's thank contestant Chu Zhi for 'Deserted Island'—a version unlike any we've heard before."
Her words finally broke the spell. The audience erupted like Hiroshima—
"I was laughing at first. Had no idea what was coming."
"You'd need to get dumped 100 times to sing like that. Not 99."
"No hospital on earth could cure Chu Zhi's breakup."
"Feel like my soul got hollowed out."
"Wait, isn't Chu Zhi supposed to be a player? How's he this devoted? Whiplash!"
One buzzed-cut guy elbowed his teary friend: "Dude, crying? You look like a paid actor."
"Shut up. This song just murdered my first love all over again," the friend muttered, wiping his face.
Most tears came from personal memories—the highest praise a song can get isn't defeating rivals, but moving someone.
Backstage, Music Director Liang Pingbo struggled for words before conceding: "I underestimated him. Chu Zhi truly understands music."
In the waiting room, Yang Guiyun—another marginal contestant like the eliminated Wu Xi—exchanged stunned glances with his partner. "A pretty boy delivered that?"
Objectively speaking, that level of emotional intensity was rare even in his own 10-20 year career. Lin Xia snapped out of it first, turning to the most technically skilled singer present: "Uncle Hou, thoughts?"
Hou Yubin's face was a portrait of shock. "All emotion."
No need to elaborate. Lin Xia knew the unspoken second half: zero technique. Chu Zhi had even cracked his voice—yet the sorrow was real.
After collecting himself, Hou Yubin added: "Abandoning technique for pure emotion is amateurish… but tonight, it gave us something extraordinary."
Lin Xia's mind wandered to gaming—how he loved playing jungler, waiting for teammates to die before swooping in for kills. "Dead allies = higher DPS."
Turns out Chu Zhi was the same. "Too famous = worse performances. Now that he's flopping? Masterpieces."
Hou Yubin cautioned: "Even acknowledging diverse artistic approaches, I can't recommend this method."
Who the hell would try?! Without Chu Zhi's bottomless grief, this approach was a car crash. A 10-car pileup.
"Did he channel all that online hate into the song?" Regardless, it was impressive. Li Xingwei knew he couldn't fuse emotions into singing like that. Did this make him regret dismissing Chu Zhi earlier?
Of course not.
Admitting others are strong is hard. Admitting you're wrong is harder. Unless you're supremely rational—which Li Xingwei wasn't—you'll always find excuses.
The votes came in: 741—the night's highest score so far.
Li Xingwei clapped cheerfully: "Chu Zhi's Deserted Island was legendary. That depth of feeling? 741 is well-deserved!"
He wasn't worried. "You think he can pull this emotional dump every time?"
Technically, Chu Zhi was bad. Worse than a cafeteria lunch special. This only confirmed Li Xingwei's stance—next time, he'd crush him by 100 votes.
"Isn't 741 the season's best score yet?" Zheng Yingying mused. "The emotional pull was insane. If we felt it back here, imagine the live audience."
Veteran host Zhang Yue—a four-season I Am a Singer staple—added: "In all four seasons, Teacher Chu's score would rank third overall."
He then translated for Koguchi, who pumped his fist: "Amazing! Chu-san's version surpasses mine in expressiveness and stage impact. Third-highest in four seasons? Absolutely deserved!"
(His delayed reaction, courtesy of translation lag, landed like a post-credits scene.)