Chapter 28: An Unprecedented Mess

"My Song" has completely fallen! Are they really trying to protect Cannon Zhang now?

"Don't tell me this is just luck! This is a blatant fix! Cannon Zhang bribed the show!"

"All hail Cannon! Unstoppable! Sweep them all! Rule the world!"

"Six six six six six...!"

"They really think the audience is stupid! 'My Song,' you really go too far!"

"Looks like Cannon's going to win again this episode. Cannon fodder fans, get ready to party!"

"I'm predicting the order tonight will be the final ranking. Cannon Zhang has to come last—if you agree, bump this post!"

"Nicely done, Cannon!"

"Switch the channel! Just watching this show makes me furious!"

"Don't switch yet—wait until Cannon Zhang sings. Since he's last, at least we can watch everyone else in peace without him making us sick."

"I used to think there was no rigging in 'My Song,' but now, if anyone tells me otherwise, I'll punch them."

"Completely disappointed in 'My Song.'"

"Cannon Zhang, don't get cocky! Even if you go last, you'll still be at the bottom! Garbage!"

"Just keep this up, Cannon Zhang! 'My Song,' go down with him! When your ratings hit rock bottom, let's see what you do then!"

...

Zhang Qiyang drawing the eighth spot caused a storm of protest among netizens, leaving the production team of "My Song" with a massive headache.

Of all the positions he could have drawn, it had to be the best—the eighth slot. This was basically inviting trouble for their show!

Luo Tao and the others in the director’s booth had faces like they'd swallowed something foul. The episode’s opening ratings were a steep drop from last week, only 1.5%. Perhaps the initial excitement over Zhang Qiyang’s participation had faded, and viewers weren’t as interested anymore.

More likely, the audience was genuinely boycotting "My Song" because of Zhang Qiyang—a scenario the producers dreaded most.

Given the circumstances, Luo Tao decided that once the show began, they'd give Zhang Qiyang zero screen time until his performance, just to avoid further backlash.

Let the viewers forget he existed, at least until the end.

Soon, all the singers drew their performance slots.

The newcomer Zhou Delin was lucky, drawing the fifth spot.

Li Xuan, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. She drew the dreaded second slot—an outcome that made her resent Zhang Qiyang even more, convinced he was her jinx.

Even less lucky was the rock rebel Zhao Lei, who ended up first.

Veteran Tan Zhizhong did okay, getting third.

Among the younger singers, Lin Haoran landed fourth.

The two mid-career female singers, both thirty, drew good numbers: Ji Chunying, known as the "Iron Lung," drew sixth; Yue Li, who ranked last the previous week and was famous for her soulful style, drew seventh.

With the order set, the singers retreated to their own dressing rooms to prepare.

No longer forced to sit awkwardly with the others, Zhang Qiyang finally relaxed, a smile breaking through his earlier tension.

"Hey, why isn’t there a camera following you? Don’t the singers always get filmed in the resting area?" Qin Xueyang, who had accompanied Zhang Qiyang to his dressing room, was annoyed to find only a fixed camera in the corner and no roaming crew.

Zhang Qiyang loosened his black shirt collar and flopped onto the sofa, unconcerned. "Let them film whoever they want. The fewer cameras, the better—more peace for me. Hand me my phone."

"What for?"

"I want to post on Weibo. Celebrate a little, annoy those who keep trashing me."

Qin Xueyang rushed to block her bag with a chubby hand. "Don’t start more drama with those trolls. Now’s not the time. Focus on the show!"

"Stop fussing. Give it here," Zhang Qiyang insisted, hand outstretched. "Just one post. I won’t look at the comments."

"Just one, you said it."

Reluctantly negotiating, Qin Xueyang handed over his phone.

Zhang Qiyang posed in front of the camera with a "gun" gesture, fingers forming an eight, snapped a photo, and posted it.

With smug satisfaction, he wrote: "When you’re hot, even luck is on your side. Cannon fodder fans, tonight’s performance is worth the wait! I’m about to give you a record-breaking, shit-unprecedented show!"

After he posted, Qin Xueyang checked her own phone and quickly found the post.

She almost panicked—he’d made a typo! "Shit-unprecedented" would make him a laughingstock!

But on second thought, maybe he’d done it on purpose, since tonight’s song was indeed called "Shit."

Relieved, she told Zhang Qiyang, "That post is going to get you roasted. Just wait."

"Let them! Am I afraid of being trolled? Give the haters a little climax before I slap them in the face later."

Handing the phone back to Qin Xueyang for safekeeping, Zhang Qiyang turned to the TV, relaxed, ready to enjoy the other performances.

Qin Xueyang, uninterested in the other singers, settled into a camera blind spot, sipping her favorite bubble tea while scrolling through Zhang Qiyang’s Weibo.

Sure enough.

The comments poured in:

"Hahaha, ‘shit-unprecedented,’ Cannon is being cheeky again."

"Second floor, selling sunflower seeds."

"Idiot Cannon Zhang, can’t even write!"

"Just what you’d expect from him, his brain’s full of crap."

"Cannon, I suddenly have a terrifying mental image—are you going to crap on stage? If you do, it’ll be the most shocking performance ever!"

"Whoa! Cannon’s really going big! Some foreign metal bands have done that at concerts—legendary! Is Cannon going to follow suit?"

"Like this if you support Cannon shitting on the ‘My Song’ stage!"

"If you dare to crap during the show, you’ll go down in history! I won’t lean on the wall to pee anymore, only respect you!"

"A bunch of idiots hyping this up—brainless."

"Cannon, I can already smell it through my phone. What kind of shocking performance are you planning? Are you really going to do it?"

"I can’t wait for your ‘shit-unprecedented’ show!"

"Pfft...hahaha! ‘Shit-unprecedented,’ Cannon Zhang, did you finish elementary school?"

"Cannon, if you really crap on stage, I’ll switch from hater to fan for life! Stop talking, start doing!"

"I had no intention of watching, but if you’re going to crap on stage, fine, I’ll tune in just to see how you do it."

"‘Shit-unprecedented?’ You’ve got guts. Let’s see how you pull it off."

...

That one phrase, "shit-unprecedented," piqued the curiosity of many, turning some from staunch boycotters into people eager to see just what kind of unprecedented performance Zhang Qiyang would deliver.

Qin Xueyang had to admire his knack for stirring up buzz.

She glanced at Zhang Qiyang, sprawled on the sofa without a care in the world, and marveled. Ever since he’d buried his inner demons, he seemed like a new man—reborn from the ashes, radiating a serene confidence, as if everything was within his grasp.

She was more than happy with the change. From now on, even if she broke the toilet, she’d never lean on the wall again—she’d only admire him.