Chapter 69: The Guests Are Too Strict

The live broadcast began simultaneously, and countless people flooded into the streaming room. Within just a minute, the viewership soared past ten million. The first singer to take the stage was a diva from Imperial Dragon Entertainment, whose talent was formidable and whose fame preceded Zhou Wan’s by several years.

In the entertainment industry, those who reach a certain level inevitably align themselves with the authorities. Thus, every contestant today was at least a top-tier singer, both in skill and reputation. The diva stood on stage, while the screen behind her displayed the song title: “I Praise You.” The name alone was clearly crafted to flatter the officials, a song created purely to curry favor.

Her performance was indeed powerful; her voice grand and full, incorporating elements of the bel canto style. The lyrics and melody had been composed by legendary musicians, with a team of over forty working tirelessly day and night, revising the piece through more than a dozen versions before settling on what they believed was the best. Yet, to Zhou Wan, the song was simply mediocre.

As the song ended, thunderous applause filled the venue and the guests began to vote. Each guest had a voting device in front of them. Perhaps because these distinguished guests had such exacting standards, their applause was polite but the voting results were brutal. The final tally appeared on the big screen: 313 votes, with less than a third in support.

The diva sighed quietly, bowed, and stepped off the stage, a hint of regret in her manner. It wasn’t that her talent was lacking; rather, the guests were just too formidable. Their hearts were cold as blades—moving them was no easy feat.

The second to perform was a would-be king from Red Queen Entertainment. Red Queen had received two invitations for the event: one for Liu Ruyun and one for this aspiring king. His song had been crafted by a dozen award-winning producers over more than two months, with even Chen Feng involved in its creation. The title was “We Were Born in a Good Era.”

Many guests could hardly contain their criticism at the song’s name—was it really necessary to flatter so blatantly? Still, they decided to listen first before judging. When the performance ended, most agreed his singing was excellent, his breath control steady, and his voice magnetic. However, the lyrics were abysmal and the melody uninspiring. The final vote count: 211.

“Wow... the guests are so strict.”
“Still, 211 isn’t bad...”
“Their standards are sky-high; it’s nearly impossible to impress them.”
“To be honest, this song just doesn’t do it for me—I couldn’t listen through.”
“Many songwriters have fallen into a trap, thinking this is an open-book exam: writing to the theme but losing any real soul.”
“Exactly,” came the chorus of agreement.

The streaming room buzzed with discussion. Both the diva and the aspiring king had suffered humiliating defeats, putting immense pressure on the third performer. This was a singer from Pegasus Entertainment—Zhou Wan’s former agency. Though not as large as the four entertainment giants, Pegasus had gained influence by cozying up to Qi Zhengqing, quietly thriving behind the scenes. Qi Zhengqing’s purpose today was twofold: to see Zhou Wan, and to fulfill a request from Pegasus’s boss to greet the guests and see if he could persuade them to show leniency.

The Pegasus singer was not Xu Zhenzhen, but another female artist under their label. She was stunning, slender, and every bit as attractive as Zhou Wan. Her eyes in particular were mesmerizing, giving the impression of a true enchantress. She came from the talent show circuit and, at twenty-three, was a top-tier idol. While not a diva, her popularity was just as high.

Her appearance sent the streaming room into a frenzy.
“Wow, it’s the goddess Lin Qianqian!”
“Unbelievable, the sexy goddess Lin Qianqian is here tonight.”
“She’s gorgeous—the face, the figure, she’s truly one of a kind!”

Her song was titled “Thunderbolt.” Seeing the name, the guests’ eyes lit up. Short, punchy titles were preferred over those needlessly long and sycophantic. The concept behind “Thunderbolt” was excellent: in times of national peril, some rise like a thunderbolt to turn the tide. The name was promising, but the lyrics left many unimpressed. The flattery was even more blatant than the previous performances. One line went: “Thunderbolt, this divine power... You are like a thunderbolt, splitting the sky, appearing before us—my hero...” If that wasn’t drivel, what was?

Still, out of respect for Qi Zhengqing, many guests hesitated. Yet not all were inclined to indulge the artist; some had no vested interests with Qi Zhengqing. The scoring began, and votes were cast. On the screen: 416 votes, less than half in support.

The streaming room erupted.
“No way, so beautiful and sang decently, yet less than half support!”
“These guests have seen it all, there’s no need to award points just for looks.”
“The song is just too tacky. It sounds grand, praising heroes, but there’s no depth at all.”

Zhou Wan grew anxious. Were the guests really this demanding? Even powerhouse singers and kings couldn’t secure half the votes. Could she shed her “internet idol” label completely?

An hour and a half later, over twenty singers had finished their performances. A twenty-minute intermission followed, giving the guests time for a break. The highest score so far belonged to a king from Golden Splendor, who earned 508 votes. This king had been famous for over thirty years, older than many of the guests—some born in the ’80s had grown up listening to his songs. Hence the high score.

During the break, Ning Cai approached Zhou Wan. “Nervous?”

Zhou Wan nodded. “Very nervous. The guests are so strict—completely unyielding.”

Ning Cai replied, “Let things take their course. Just make sure you’re in the right state of mind.”

Zhou Wan murmured her agreement.

Not only was Zhou Wan nervous, Liu Ruyun was as well. It had been three years since her last notable work, and her popularity was waning. If she could dazzle at tonight’s concert, she would surely return to the summit. Yet, she too felt uncertain. These guests didn’t care about background, fame, or popularity; the only thing that could move them was one’s singing.

As time passed, it was finally Xu Zhenzhen’s turn from Pegasus Entertainment. Her song was the very one Lin Daoan had originally written for Zhou Wan!