Chapter 29: Eager for Action

Onstage, under the grand accompaniment of the symphony orchestra, Li Xuan, dressed in a fiery red evening gown, gave a dazzling performance comparable to an opera, overwhelming the entire audience and leaving them utterly entranced.

Zhao Lei’s explosive rock number as the opening contestant was completely overshadowed by Li Xuan’s spectacular “Painted Faces on Stage.”

The other singers, still waiting in the lounge, watched Li Xuan’s performance intently on the screen, feeling her formidable presence even from afar. They all marveled at her formidable display, which was clearly her at her best—obviously, this was a challenge directed at Zhou Delin.

It seemed clear: this week, the top spot was hers to lose.

In Zhang Qiyang’s lounge, from the moment Li Xuan appeared, Qin Xueyang forgot all about her phone and watched, transfixed, barely able to contain herself. Every so often, she’d burst out, “She’s incredible! ...Wow, too amazing! ...Ah! She’s melting my heart! ...Boss Zhang, she’s turning me gay!”

Zhang Qiyang spat, “Not even milk tea can keep you quiet?”

Clutching her chubby fists in excitement, Qin Xueyang exclaimed, “Sister Xuan is phenomenal! She might win it all this week! If I were in the audience, I’d definitely vote for her!”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Zhang Qiyang asked, exasperated.

“We’re all on the same team as Sister Xuan, aren’t we? Better her than anyone else.”

“And why can’t I win?” he protested.

“You? Cough, cough!” Qin Xueyang choked on her tapioca pearls, then teased, “I’ll thank the heavens if you don’t come in last this week. Let’s hope your unprecedented performance can win over some of the younger crowd. I just peeked at the audience—there are a lot of young people tonight. Seize the votes from them and you might make it to second or third to last.”

“I see you’re tired of being my assistant! If you want out, just say so—I won’t stand in your way to fortune!”

Qin Xueyang grinned, her plump, pretty face beaming, “Hehe, I’m just being honest. Keep your expectations low so you won’t be disappointed later. Even if you come in last, it just means you have more room to improve.”

Zhang Qiyang was nearly infuriated to death by this chubby girl. He sipped his water and decided it was better to enjoy Li Xuan’s performance than to argue further.

Li Xuan’s singing was indeed remarkable—her vocal talent even more striking than her beauty.

Though Zhang Qiyang didn’t consider himself a musical expert, he understood the basics of music theory and singing technique. He knew that the placement of a singer’s voice was crucial.

Most singers, after settling into their unique style, also fix their vocal placement. Some excel at forward placement, making their voices particularly bright and penetrating, like the legendary Sun Nan from another world. Others prefer to sing from further back, enhancing the power of their overtones, resulting in a deeper, more resonant sound—voices that seem to strike with weight.

Then there are those whose vocal tracts are fully opened, wielding their voice with effortless mastery. When they want power, they have it; when they want resonance, it’s there. Listening to them sing is exhilarating—like the later years of Tan Weiwei, the epitome of open-throated singing.

Yet such singers require extraordinary talent to refine their technique, for without full control, the voice easily scatters, losing cohesion, resulting in a performance that feels chaotic.

That’s why most singers avoid singing fully open-throated—the risk of damaging their vocal cords is too great.

But truly skilled singers aspire toward this state.

Li Xuan, now onstage, was precisely the kind whose vocal cords were fully open. Her singing was both powerful and penetrating, her voice unrestrained—reminiscent of another world’s Stefanie Sun, with explosive energy, her high notes wild and free, making listeners feel utterly exhilarated.

Her control over her voice surpassed even Stefanie Sun’s, approaching the finesse of Tan Weiwei.

She seemed a fusion of Tan Weiwei’s technique and Stefanie Sun’s flair, able to master any genre, traverse high, middle, and low registers seamlessly—and even with the full force of a large orchestra behind her, neither her voice nor her presence was diminished in the slightest.

Such a singer was electrifying and deeply moving in live performance.

No wonder she had risen in just a few years to become one of the mainland’s most formidable female singers. Her gift for singing was truly among the best in the industry.

To compete on the same stage as such a singer, Zhang Qiyang couldn't help but feel excited.

Indeed, life’s twists of fate are extraordinary. For a long time, Zhang Qiyang’s days had revolved around words, his worldview and outlook seemingly locked inside the universe of text, making reality itself feel less real.

But now, that world of words that had imprisoned him suddenly unfolded into a tangible world—the world before his eyes became vivid, exciting, and boundless.

As the saying goes, the sea is wide for fish to leap, the sky vast for birds to soar.

Zhang Qiyang now felt like a bird, like a fish—yearning to make his mark in this brand new world!

People say this is a world where your father’s status determines your fate.

But for Zhang Qiyang, competing on his father’s merits held no allure, because few could boast a father more powerful than his.

Since that game was pointless, he was determined to rely on his own strength!

Like Li Xuan, he wanted to use the gift of rebirth to shake the world, to become a superstar in the spotlight!

With his family’s resources and his own abilities, he aimed to carve out a legacy greater than his father’s.

His father was already the wealthiest man—a remarkable feat.

But his own future? He would be the wealthiest man and a superstar.

He would live an even more extraordinary life.

Stirred by Li Xuan’s electrifying performance, Zhang Qiyang was itching to take the stage himself, eager to unleash the wild and exuberant ambition surging within him.

After Li Xuan, the other singers took their turns, but none could match her brilliance—not even Zhou Delin, whose performance seemed lackluster, perhaps due to jet lag from his recent concert tour in America. His spirit and voice were off, and even after finishing his song, it felt like his voice hadn’t truly warmed up.

Instead, the “iron-lunged” Ji Chunying, who followed, left a deep impression with her powerful singing.

More than an hour passed.

Onstage, the penultimate singer, Yue Li, was performing.

As always, Yue Li sang her signature urban ballads—songs of healing and heartbreak. Compared to previous rounds, she hadn’t made any breakthroughs. Within her chosen genre, she was at the peak, with a loyal fan base. But singing the same style over and over, people would eventually tire of it.

The live audience was still immersed in the atmosphere, enjoying the performances of these top singers. But for viewers at home, impatience was setting in. Many wished Yue Li’s performance would end soon—they couldn’t wait to see Zhang Qiyang compete!

Though countless people disliked Zhang Qiyang and mocked him relentlessly, human nature is perverse—the more you scorn someone, the more you pay attention to them; the more you dislike them, the more you want to see how they’ll perform.

Many were hoping Zhang Qiyang would humiliate himself on stage so they could rub salt in his wounds and continue to derive joy from disparaging him.

For someone like Zhang Qiyang, the son of the nation’s richest man, most people watched with the hope of seeing him fail.

Even those who usually ignored “I Am a Singer” switched over to Stardom TV on hearing that the infamous Zhang the Loudmouth was about to perform, eager to see him embarrass himself.

The latest real-time ratings in the live control room showed that during the past five minutes, with relatively subdued performances, the show’s viewership had miraculously jumped by 0.8 percentage points, reaching 3.2%!

Though this rating couldn’t compare to last week’s, such a sudden spike was exhilarating for the production team.

They all knew this surge wasn’t thanks to Yue Li, but to the focus Zhang Qiyang brought to the program.

Once Zhang Qiyang appeared, the show’s peak ratings could climb even higher.

Seeing this, Luo Tao was ecstatic. Despite the many headaches Zhang Qiyang brought to the production, his social influence was indisputably immense—far beyond that of the average singer.

Having such a figure on their show was both a curse and a blessing.

If they could harness the attention he brought, this season might even surpass the last.

Glancing at the director’s monitor, Luo Tao saw Zhang Qiyang in the dressing room, hurriedly getting his makeup done—and was tempted to cut to a close-up, just to whet the audience’s appetite.

But then he noticed the chubby girl beside Zhang Qiyang, frantically applying white foundation to his face, making him ghostly pale—no trace of blood left in his cheeks—and adding exaggerated, ghastly black eyeshadow!

My God!

She’d given him a zombie look!

Damn it!

What on earth was he planning?

Recalling Zhang Qiyang’s last-minute song change in the previous round, Luo Tao had a sinking feeling—this troublesome young master seemed poised to stir up trouble once again.

Luo Tao suddenly regretted his earlier decision to allow so many young audience members to serve as judges for this episode.

Moved by Zhang Qiyang’s rehearsal, Luo Tao had taken a bold gamble: if only they could keep Zhang Qiyang on the show, the rewards might be tremendous.

So he had secretly approved a large number of young viewers as judges for this competition, boosting Zhang Qiyang’s chances of a higher ranking.

But now, leaving the richest heir on their stage seemed like a grave mistake.

“Please, merciful Bodhisattva, don’t let this idiot make trouble—not tonight!” Luo Tao thought, resigning himself to fate as the moment approached. With the arrow already nocked, there was no turning back.

All he could do was pray silently in the control room, hoping he’d bet right.