Zheng Yingying didn't understand why the Japanese singer in front of her was so excited—more so than if he'd performed successfully himself.
"Lin-san and Li-san also delivered brilliant performances tonight. The stage is truly dazzling with stars," Koguchi concluded his praise, though his thoughts drifted to Chu Zhi's sickly appearance. His concern, however, was minimal.
The pale, fragile look paired with heart-wrenching vocals had created an arresting stage presence. Koguchi even felt Chu Zhi's illness enhanced his beauty. His admiration wasn't rooted in friendship—it was purely aesthetic appreciation.
"Welcome back, tonight's saddest man," Zheng Yingying called out, spotting Chu Zhi entering the lounge first.
Koguchi stood to greet him with a torrent of Japanese praise, leaving his music partner Zhang Yue struggling to keep up with translations.
"Have some milk. Singing with that much emotion takes a toll," Hou Yubin said, casually grabbing a sponsor's milk carton from the table.
"It really was exhausting. Thank you, Teacher Hou," Chu Zhi accepted the milk gratefully.
"Oh right! Let's all drink Chunsheng Organic Milk!" Wei Tongzi, less observant than her senior, grabbed two more cartons upon the reminder. "Teacher Chu, you seem really unwell—drink more."
"I'll try, but I'm not a dairy cow," Chu Zhi replied, sipping the milk despite its mediocre taste. Even sponsors couldn't mask that.
"Teacher Chu, you're born to sing love songs. When you sing them, it's like you're... singing love songs," Zheng Yingying remarked, this time avoiding her usual "Orange" nickname for him.
"Wait, did you just steal my bit?" Lin Xia cut in. "That's the kind of meaningless wordplay I specialize in."
Had Gu Nanxi been present, she'd have rolled her eyes. Zheng Yingying clarified, "Fine, I admit it was nonsense. What I meant was—when Teacher Chu sings love songs, it feels like he just got his heart broken but still can't let go."
"Crying over someone else's relationship drama," Chu Zhi offered lightly, though her comment sparked an idea. With [Despair's Voice] and a couple of iconic love ballads, he could dominate.
"Deserted Island" was decent, but imagine pulling Zhou Chuanxiong or Jeff Chang's hits—"Love Like Tide," "Faith," "Lonely Sandbar Cold," "Dusk." Pair those with [Despair's Voice], and "Ballad Prince" would be an understatement.
The show marched on regardless of backstage chatter. The final two performers, Hou Yubin and Yang Guiyun (the latter's name as forgettable as his career), scored 633 and 577 votes respectively.
Hou delivered his usual excellence with a rock cover of eliminated contestant Wu Xi's signature song—a veteran's gesture of respect. His lower-than-average votes stemmed from following Chu Zhi's emotional tsunami; audiences still steeped in sorrow struggled to shift gears to his martial anthem.
Yang Guiyun, China's pioneer of soul music, maintained his stable 500-range votes. Soul—a blend of R&B and gospel—remained niche domestically. Even in this parallel world, Yang stood alone in the genre, his pretentious labeling of it as "Soul" (索尔) failing to mask its lack of appeal.
"Ugly people sure love making trouble," Koguchi side-eyed Yang's interruption of his halting conversation with Chu Zhi.
"What are your thoughts on Soul?" Yang asked abruptly, having posed this question to every contestant to bask in their obligatory praise. Online, he styled himself "Father of Chinese Soul."
"The musical form that best expresses the heart. It's meaningful," Chu Zhi offered diplomatically.
Yang's bulldog face lit up with smug satisfaction. Each artist here had distinct musical philosophies: Hou championed folk traditions, Lin Xia oscillated between pop and progressive metal, Gu Nanhyun's jazz roots in Hong Kong had given way to mainland funk (think Michael Jackson's Thriller).
"As for me?" Chu Zhi mused. "No grand artistic vision—just fame, money, and harvesting loyal fans."
When host Gu Nanxi finally returned, her gaze lingered on Chu Zhi with newfound calculation.
"If last week's 'Wind Blows Through the Wheat Fields' tweaked public perception, tonight's 'Deserted Island' could reclaim fans despite the scandals," she assessed. As a woman who'd dated her share of younger men, she recognized the nuclear appeal of a heartbroken idol. That trembling-kitten vulnerability triggered primal protective instincts.
"Beauty is weaponized," she thought, recalling how even notorious mistresses like the most beautiful Miss Hong Kong could sway public opinion with visuals alone. It wasn't about morality—biology wired humans to respond to aesthetics.
"Could Chu Zhi actually stage a comeback through a singing show?" The outlandish hypothesis took root. "If he maintains this trajectory..." Her decision was made: cultivating this rising star might prove advantageous.
After twenty minutes of idle chatter with no sign of director Meng Fan, Lin Xia grew antsy. "Until he arrives, we're stuck not knowing next week's theme."
When Meng finally appeared five minutes later, the group ribbed him:
"Took you long enough!"
"A staffer said you fell in the bathroom—true?"
"We've aged waiting!"
Unfazed, Meng announced with a grin: "Next episode is our semifinal. The theme? No theme at all!"