Chapter 20: The Perfect Lover

This guy, actually pretending to sleep!

Ji Chenxuan’s sneaky little thoughts were caught right on the spot, making him feel so embarrassed that he wished he could bury his head under the bed.

Before Xiao Chi could ask anything, Ji Chenxuan decisively took the lead: “You’ve been awake the whole time, haven’t you? Pretending to sleep and lying to me!”

However, Xiao Chi wasn’t fooled. Instead, he became unusually sharp, squinting his eyes and clicking his tongue, “I was almost asleep, but you touched me and it made me itchy. I didn’t expect you to be this kind of person, Ji Chenxuan, sneaking a kiss while I wasn’t paying attention!”

“…” Ji Chenxuan’s earlier bravado instantly deflated, like a bubble popped, vanishing into thin air. He quickly shifted his gaze away, blinking rapidly, trying to change the subject, “I’m a little tired. I’m going to sleep now…”

Xiao Chi refused to let him off easily. He grabbed Ji Chenxuan’s face with both hands and forced him to turn towards him: “Why did you steal a kiss?”

Ji Chenxuan’s face still held the flush of heat, and facing Xiao Chi’s relentless questioning, he decided to be blunt: “I kissed you, so what? Why so many questions?”

He let go of all restraint, breaking free from Xiao Chi’s grip and pushed forward fiercely!

Well, he had already kissed him, so might as well make the most of it!

The two lips collided forcefully, awkwardly brushing against each other. Xiao Chi’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react, Ji Chenxuan had already pulled back, turned over, and buried himself under the blanket, leaving only the back of his head exposed.

“…” Xiao Chi, in disbelief, touched his lips, which almost felt raw from the collision, looking aggrieved like a little wife bullied by a villain.

He reached to pull at Ji Chenxuan’s blanket but couldn’t budge it, as Ji Chenxuan was gripping it tightly like a snail carrying its shell: “I’m sleeping!”

“Fine, I won’t argue with a sick person. When you’re better…” Xiao Chi grumbled, no longer bothering to sleep. He rolled off the bed, slid into slippers, and walked out. “I’m going to find Dr. Fāng. You should rest properly.”

The door opened and closed again, and his footsteps gradually faded. Only when the silence returned did Ji Chenxuan slowly reveal his head from under the blanket. Fresh air rushed into his lungs, and he let out a long sigh.

Did Xiao Chi hear the question he asked earlier?

Perhaps he heard it. Since he wasn’t good at lying, he preferred to remain silent. Or perhaps he really didn’t hear it. No one would know except for him.

Ji Chenxuan had already lost the courage to ask again.

He fell into a deep, heavy sleep and was woken up in the evening by Xiao Chi, who brought him a bowl of porridge. After taking his medicine, he went back to sleep.

His consciousness was pulled into a deep, dark abyss, and he felt like he knew he was in a dream, but no matter what, he couldn’t wake up.

In the dream, there was a couple, gently waving at him. Ji Chenxuan involuntarily ran toward them, but the road was long and rugged. His short legs couldn’t keep up, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch up.

Gradually, they disappeared at the end of the path.

He felt anxious and stumbled on a stone, falling to the ground in pain, almost crying.

A slender wrist reached out before him, gently pulling him up. Ji Chenxuan tilted his head, staring blankly at the person in front of him. At some point, the couple reappeared, though this time, it was a different woman with a face strikingly similar to his mother’s.

They were holding the hand of a younger boy, his eyes wide and glistening with innocence, his face pure and childlike. The woman spoke softly, “Call him big brother. From now on, we’re family.”

Family?

Ji Chenxuan’s heart clenched tightly, as if it had brushed against some forbidden, sensitive memory. His nerves recoiled, and his entire body felt like it was being pricked by needles.

The pain jolted him out of the nightmare, leaving him like a fish out of water, weakly collapsing on a parched shore.

His fever had subsided, and a fine layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Ji Chenxuan struggled to prop himself up and instinctively glanced at the back of his hand. The discomfort from the dream had gradually dissipated, but the bluish veins on his arm seemed to throb faintly with a lingering ache.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been sick. This frailty felt utterly unfamiliar.

Even more so, the fact that he had unconsciously spoken words he would never utter in his usual state.

Pressing his fingers against his brow, Ji Chenxuan dragged his exhausted body out of bed. He washed, changed, and emerged from the bathroom still damp. The sound of his movements had already alerted Xiao Chi, who was standing by the bed with breakfast in hand, his gaze brimming with vibrant energy.

The curtains had been drawn open, and the gentle morning sunlight bathed the room, like golden threads scattered across Xiao Chi’s figure. His chestnut hair glimmered in the light, making him resemble a lively sunflower. 

When he saw Ji Chenxuan, he beamed a warm smile.

That smile, so radiant, seemed to light up Ji Chenxuan’s eyes.

“Are you feeling better? Come over and eat. I cooked this myself. You always complain about Anna’s cooking not to your taste. Be careful, or Anna might go on strike, and you’ll see what happens.”

As he spoke, Xiao Chi swiftly arranged the bowls and chopsticks. His exceptional memory was so precise that he even knew exactly how many servings of rice and vegetables Ji Chenxuan ate at each meal, following Doctor Fang’s prescribed diet plan, balancing meat and vegetables to the exact amount.

Even his hand, as he served more rice and vegetables, appeared elegant and graceful.

Ji Chenxuan stared at his back for a long time, his gaze unwavering, almost as if he were being controlled by him, greedily and nostalgically, even halting the motion of wiping his hair, letting the droplets of water fall from the tips of his hair.

Who could resist someone like this? Handsome, sincere, passionate, simple, considerate, and skilled in all household chores.

Ji Chenxuan asked himself, and he knew he could never do it.

He suddenly understood why the AI company had been able to dominate half of the market with virtual idols. Perhaps it was because everyone had a dream of this perfect lover in their hearts.

The unfortunate part was that, although Xiao Chi was perfect, he was not his lover.

Ji Chenxuan’s eyes darkened slightly, but he quickly suppressed all emotions that were out of place, calmly sitting down at the table to have breakfast with him.

Although Xiao Chi’s cooking was precise, he missed one thing: Ji Chenxuan, still recovering from a serious illness, didn’t have his usual appetite, and with his weak digestive system, he could only eat a few bites before he couldn’t continue. He ended up sitting there, watching Xiao Chi eat happily.

Xiao Chi filled his mouth with shrimp rolls, his cheeks puffed out: “Don’t leave so quickly after eating, I have something to give you.”

“Something for me? What is it?” Ji Chenxuan was momentarily stunned, as if a glass of sparkling wine had been poured over his heart, a series of surprised little bubbles rising up, bursting into a colorful explosion.

But there was no hint of anything on Xiao Chi’s face. He mysteriously nodded his chin toward Ji Chenxuan: “Finish eating, and I’ll give it to you.”

Ji Chenxuan gave him a helpless glare and picked up his chopsticks again, eating faster.

By the time the breakfast was finished, Ji Chenxuan gently wiped his mouth with a napkin, glancing at Xiao Chi, silently urging him. At this moment, the sound of a phone call reminder from Zhou Tong rang in his wristband—his car was downstairs, waiting to take him to the company.

Ji Chenxuan ignored it, simply sitting there, waiting for his surprise.

Xiao Chi couldn’t take the gaze anymore. He quickly grabbed a small pink box from behind him: “This is for you.”

When Ji Chenxuan saw the color of the box, he sensed something was off, but still, he eagerly opened the half-tied ribbon—inside, the box was filled with pink, blinding his eyes.

A pair of gloves, a scarf, and a knitted hat, with two cute little bear ears sewn on top.

Ji Chenxuan picked them up one by one, glancing at him helplessly: “Your taste in girl’s stuff is really…”

Xiao Chi looked at him eagerly: “Don’t like them? Actually, I originally knitted a sweater for you, but you said you didn’t want it, so I had to take it apart and redo it into this.”

“…You took apart the sweater you made for me?” Ji Chenxuan took a deep breath, his eyes full of regret. He remembered how he had insisted on saving face back then—looks like he was getting his comeuppance now.

“Forget it. Since you worked so hard on it, I’ll accept it.” Ji Chenxuan raised an eyebrow, picked the scarf after some deliberation, and tied it around his neck in front of the mirror.

The color was too bright, so he had to go to his wardrobe to find a white cashmere sweater to pair with it. Instantly, he looked ten years younger.

Xiao Chi watched him busy trying on clothes and couldn’t help but comment softly: “Actually, you’re quite vain…”

Ji Chenxuan, fully dressed, glanced at him with a half-smile: “At least my taste is on point.”

“…”

“By the way, I’ll have Zhou Tong arrange for you to meet your manager. His name is Liu Bing—one of the industry’s most capable and well-connected managers. Stick with him, learn well, and be obedient. Got it? The finals of this year’s Star Show competition will be your debut.”

Xiao Chi nodded obediently: “Okay.”

The sun was shining brightly.

Zhou Tong had already been waiting downstairs for a long time. He wondered whether to call again but was afraid of disturbing his boss. An assistant who lacks tact would never have a future.

When Ji Chenxuan appeared at the door wearing the eye-catching pink scarf, Zhou Tong’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. However, he wisely didn’t ask any questions, only chuckling awkwardly: “President Ji, you really… look radiant today.”

“Drive,” Ji Chenxuan gave him a glance, too lazy to spare more attention. It had been a day off work, and a pile of documents needing his approval had accumulated. He turned on the mobile smart screen on the small table, immediately entering work mode the moment he got in the car.

“By the way, I’ve already called Liu Bing back to the company to work and have him take care of Xiao Chi. You should arrange for them to meet as soon as possible, so they can get to know each other. The finals of the Star Show competition are approaching, so let’s make sure they get off to a good start. Also, those online rumors—delete or block them as needed.”

“I understand,” Zhou Tong nodded quickly. “But this Liu Sanshui harbors resentment from that incident years ago, which was directed at you. Will he really make the effort to guide Mr. Xiao properly?”

Ji Chenxuan remained silent, deep in thought.

Zhou Tong grew more agitated: “It was clearly the board of directors that decided to shelve King Xie’s career, and you even argued for him. How could they put the blame on you? Besides, that Vice President Wan got into trouble, and it was because of that that King Xie was able to clear his name. Isn’t that—”

Ji Chenxuan tapped his index finger lightly on the table, his voice cold: “That’s because he brought it upon himself. It’s not others’ fault. You’re talking too much.”

“Oh, right…” Zhou Tong realized his mistake and quickly closed his mouth.

He had spoken too rashly, almost forgetting that these behind-the-scenes power struggles shouldn’t be brought out into the open.

However, there were rumors saying that President Ji had once sent his stepmother to prison in order to seize control of the Ji family’s power, and even drove his own younger brother out of the house, leaving him to fend for himself. Now that he thought about it, those rumors might not have been without basis.

—

The headquarters building of Huanyi Entertainment Group.

The Marketing Department is making the final preparations for the upcoming Star Show competition finals.

Li Mingxin, carrying the list of songs submitted by the contestants, walked quickly down the hallway, with Wan Baoluo following him.

As he walked, he flipped through the song list and sighed, shaking his head: “This is supposed to be an original song contest, yet these contestants keep finding loopholes. Before the finals, they’re bringing in external help under the guise of guidance to remix the songs.”

“And they’re all hiring big shots,” Wan Baoluo, who had clearly already looked through the list, pointed to one of the song arrangers. “Look here, Chang Yang, Fan Yu—big names in the music industry. Just putting their names on the credits can intimidate people. When the judges review the songs at the finals, they’ll have to consider the big names. They can’t just ignore them.”

“Exactly,” Li Mingxin muttered, “These people aren’t focused on creating or performing, they’re too busy scheming. No wonder the new talent from Star Show in recent years hasn’t made much of an impact. They peak for a short while, then fizzle out, and the ratings keep dropping.”

Thinking about the ratings, Li Mingxin couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. He hoped they could turn things around this year, or else, he would follow his sister Li Mingyue’s path—the show would get canceled, and he’d be left with nothing!

Flipping through the pages, he suddenly furrowed his brow. “There are only nine entries? Where’s the tenth one?”

Wan Baoluo replied, “You forgot about the mysterious person’s entry. Zhou Tong seems to know who they are, but he refuses to say. He’s keeping us on edge. If this person turns out to be a fraud, I want to see how he handles it.”

“Don’t just blame us, even the public is on edge,” Li Mingxin shook his head. “If Zhou Tong hadn’t repeatedly assured us that the person exists, I would have suspected the marketing department of making up this person to stir up some buzz.”

“It’s obviously the tenth place contestant, and now they’re getting more attention than the first place. If this is a stunt, the goal has already been achieved. The popularity of Star Show this year has increased by 30% compared to last year. And it’s thanks to your sister Li Mingyue, who helped boost the hype, haha!”

Li Mingxin chuckled, “I’m getting more and more curious about this mysterious person’s true identity.”

Wan Baoluo took out a lollipop from his pocket and handed it to him. “Chocolate flavor.”

Li Mingxin glanced at it longingly and swallowed. “Forget it, I’m dieting.”

“I knew you wouldn’t eat it,” Wan Baoluo smiled slightly, unwrapping the candy and preparing to put it in his mouth when someone suddenly bumped into him from behind—

In a moment of imbalance, the lollipop fell from his hand and rolled onto the floor, covered in dust.

“Who is that, not watching where they’re going!” Wan Baoluo turned around angrily, just as the person brushed past him.

“Sorry.” The man turned back. His features were striking and easily recognizable, with deep-set eyes and amber-colored pupils that seemed like a clear pool of water. Upon seeing them, the man smiled slightly, a bit flippant. “Oh, isn’t this Fat and Thin Monk? Still in the music department? Haven’t been promoted yet?”

Li Mingxin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Liu Sanshui! You’re back?”

Wan Baoluo was also surprised, sizing the other person up: “Didn’t you say you were never coming back to Huanyi? What happened? Can’t make it outside?”

Liu Bing snorted lightly: “But it was your boss, President Ji who begged me to come back. Seeing how pitiful he was, I reluctantly changed my mind.”

Li Mingxin’s mouth dropped open, as if he could swallow an egg—President Ji begged him? Was it going to rain red in the sky?

“Wait—” He suddenly noticed a key point, “If President Ji wants you back, there’s no way he would let King Xie work with you again. Could he be preparing to bring in a new talent?”

“Heh,” Liu Bing curved his lips and placed his index finger over them. “I’m not telling you. You can guess for yourselves.”

Liu Bing stretched his long legs and left without looking back, leaving Wan Baoluo and Li Mingxin to stare at each other in surprise.

“This guy, he actually came back. Never saw that coming.” Wan Baoluo clicked his tongue, thinking about the recent personnel changes at the company’s upper levels, his mind running wild. “Being a manager at his level is a one-of-a-kind achievement. A capable person is different—arrogant as hell, and the boss has to run to his door and beg.”

Li Mingxin said with a hint of jealousy, “I just can’t stand that cocky attitude of his. I wonder which new talent has to deal with him…”

He suddenly froze, and both he and Wan Baoluo exchanged a knowing glance. “Could it be that mysterious person?!”

—

At that very moment, the “mysterious person” they were talking about, Xiao Chi, was inside the Huanyi building.

Originally, Zhou Tong had arranged for him to meet his new manager, Liu Bing. However, something urgent came up, and after leading Xiao Chi to the trainee practice room in the Artist Management Department, he hurriedly left.

This was a single-person practice room, unlike the large ones meant for multiple users. It was quieter, equipped with high-end facilities, and had a better environment, generally reserved for senior artists.

When Xiao Chi entered, Liu Bing had already been waiting inside for a while.

The man was lounging with his legs crossed in a deep blue matte single sofa, his head lowered as he played a game. The terminal screen in his hand emitted a soft blue light, casting shadows on his distinct mixed-race face, now bright, now dim.

Hearing the sound, he finally looked up from the game, glancing at the watch on his wrist. His gaze scanned Xiao Chi from head to toe, then back up again, his tone extremely indifferent: “Xiao Chen, right? You’re late.”

Xiao Chi froze for a moment, about to say something, but before he could speak, the other man impatiently interrupted.

“No need to make excuses. Late is late. I don’t like artists who have no sense of time.” Liu Bing tossed the game console aside, switched his leg position, supported his cheek with one hand, and casually placed the other on his knee. His fingers lightly rocked back and forth. “Don’t think just because President Ji is supporting you, you’re the little prince the stars are fawning over.”

His sarcasm was relentless. Even when facing Ji Chenxuan, he was this harsh, let alone a mere “pretty boy” who hadn’t debuted yet.

“I’ll make it clear first. I’m not going to manage just any vase or useless artist. If you don’t have the talent and aren’t willing to put in the effort, not even a god can help you. I’ve told this to President Ji, too.”

Liu Bing stared directly into Xiao Chi’s eyes, lazily extending three fingers. “Three months, probation period. During this time, I’ll do my best to guide you. If, after three months, you don’t meet my standards, you’re out. And don’t go around claiming I managed you. I can’t afford to lose face.”

“Also, make sure you know your place. I don’t care about any messy relationships or private deals you have with President Ji, and I can’t be bothered. Here, you’re just a newcomer. You’d better keep your tail tucked and learn properly. If you think you can rely on President Ji’s favoritism and act arrogantly, you’ve got the wrong person.”

Liu Bing sized Xiao Chi up with a playful gaze, as if he had already decided that Xiao Chi was just another one of Ji Chenxuan’s kept lovers.

“Things like being late, this kind of basic mistake, I will not allow a second time.”

Liu Bing bombarded Xiao Chi with a series of sharp words. His tone was definitely not friendly—blunt, cruel, and aggressive, giving off a bad temper and making it clear he was hard to deal with.

If this had been someone else with a little bit of pride, they would have been in tears by now.

But Xiao Chi wasn’t just anyone. He remained unaffected, even when Liu Bing harshly called him a “vase” or “useless.”

Instead, Xiao Chi calmly nodded, “I understand. I’ll work hard.”

Liu Bing glanced at him, surprised. He couldn’t tell if Xiao Chi was just playing it cool or if he really meant it.

After laying down the harsh words, Liu Bing finally introduced himself: “I’m Liu Bing, but people outside call me Liu Sanshui. Do you know why?”

Xiao Chi honestly shook his head.

Liu Bing smiled lightly, narrowing his eyes, and glanced at him casually: “Because I’m like ^[1]“Three Waters” (三水, Liu Sanshui) “Water” is often associated with purity and clarity in Chinese culture, and the phrase “Three Waters” suggests that Liu Bing … Continue reading‘Three Waters’—too pure, can’t tolerate any flaws. Whether it’s the artist’s character or their actual performance, nothing can have a stain. So, from now on, I’ll be holding you to higher standards. Be prepared.”

He handed Xiao Chi a stack of documents, pointing to the parts marked with red lines: “These are all the details I’ve researched about the other nine contestants in the Star Show final, including their competition songs.”

“And this.” Liu Bing pulled out an encrypted USB drive out of nowhere, connected it to the projector, “Inside is footage of the other contestants’ previous auditions. By combining this with the information I’ve given you, you’ll have a pretty good understanding of your competitors.”

“Their voice types, characteristics, styles, advantages, even their backgrounds, the foreign aid they’ve invited, and possibly even their connections to the judges of the final. You should know all of this. It’s best to memorize it. Knowing yourself and your enemy ensures you’ll never lose.”

“Of course, all of this is secondary.”

Liu Bing casually tossed the documents to Xiao Chi, his long fingers poking into his chest, tapping it lightly: “What truly matters is your own strength. If you’re not strong enough, you’ll have to rely on other people’s ‘weaknesses’ or mistakes to win. That’s a weakness in itself.”

“Now, let me measure how much substance there is to you, the dark horse who broke the record for the fastest advancement in the Star Show competition.”

Liu Bing powered on the recording booth and a series of sound equipment, with the wall projection displaying various vocal tests.

He said, “What kind of singing are you good at? Pop music? I won’t make things difficult for you, let’s start with the simplest test.”

As Liu Bing was adjusting the equipment, he noticed there was no movement behind him. He frowned and turned around, finding Xiao Chi flipping through the thick stack of contestant information.

Liu Bing, irritated, said, “What are you looking at that for? You won’t remember it right away, you can review it later. We need to start the vocal test now. Don’t think you can just fake your way through. Your true level can’t be assessed with just one song, ‘Farewell to the Past.’“

“Huh? But I already memorized it,” Xiao Chi closed the folder and set it aside, full of enthusiasm. “Do you want me to sing? I can do any style! Which one do you want to hear?”

“…” Liu Bing’s face darkened, and he sneered with sarcasm, “Didn’t President Ji ever teach you not to act like a show-off in front of experts? Do you think you’re a god?”

Xiao Chi asked, “What does ‘show-off’ mean?”

Liu Bing was momentarily speechless. “The information Zhou Tong gave me was vague, don’t tell me you didn’t even graduate elementary school?”

He had just casually made a remark, but Xiao Chi nodded seriously. “That’s right, I didn’t attend elementary school.”

“…” Liu Bing furrowed his brow, staring at him like he was a spectacle. “Are you joking?”

Could it be that this guy really rose to fame just because of his looks? Nowadays, even brick movers have bachelor’s degrees—how is there still someone with such low education? President Ji can’t be so superficial, can he?

Xiao Chi had no idea what was going through Liu Bing’s mind, only silently wondering why no one ever believes him when he tells the truth.

But it didn’t matter to him. As long as President Ji believed him.

Liu Bing decided to move past the topic, not wanting to dwell on it. “Have you received systematic vocal training?”

Xiao Chi wasn’t sure whether the various related programs implanted in him as a virtual idol could count as vocal training, so he hesitated and said, “Well, sort of, maybe a little.”

Liu Bing’s frown deepened. “Out of your nine competitors, except for two who are ^[2]“genuine grassroots” refers to people or things that are from a humble or unrefined background, often without formal training or advanced resources.genuine grassroots, the rest have been training in vocal music since childhood. The average level of this year’s top ten is far higher than last year’s, do you know that…”

He didn’t expect the first newcomer from Huanyi to be on hard mode. Was he going to have to start from scratch with this guy?

Before he could finish, Xiao Chi continued, picking up from where he left off, “I know, the top nine, two are good at bel canto, three are good at folk, and the rest are pop singers. The first place contestant can do all three, making them a strong competitor. However, their high notes are relatively average. If we direct them to sing higher during a duet, it will likely highlight their weakness.”

Liu Bing paused. That was one of the “special techniques” he had written at the end of the contestant information after researching each one. He didn’t expect this guy to have noticed it.

Stirring his coffee with a small silver spoon, Liu Bing blew on the steam and asked, “What about second place?”

Xiao Chi naturally replied, “The second-place contestant comes from a rock background, is skilled in powerful rap with a distinctive smoky voice. He’s most active during typhoon performances, excellent at energizing the crowd, and has a history with a judge named Qin…”

Xiao Chi calmly went through contestants two through nine, listing each person’s strengths and weaknesses, representative songs, and details down to the last point. He even memorized the critiques and battle strategies that Liu Bing had written for each contestant.

Liu Bing’s expression shifted from initial surprise to numbness, and finally, he fell into complete silence.

“Don’t tell me you have photographic memory…” Liu Bing muttered.

Xiao Chi blinked. “Yeah.”

Liu Bing was silent for a moment, then said, somewhat frustrated, “Even if you’re a bit clever, don’t think that’s enough to win the championship. Pick a song and sing it for me.”

Suffering from decision-making anxiety, Xiao Chi looked at him, troubled. “What kind of singing do you want to hear from me? I can do any style.”

Liu Bing sneered, thinking to himself, a strong memory doesn’t help with singing ability. Has this guy gotten cocky because he learned a little bit of mediocre vocal technique?

This was a common flaw of many newcomers who relied on their natural talent, feeling good about themselves without knowing their limits.

Liu Bing, intending to tone down his arrogance, browsed through the song library and picked a difficult folk song.

“This ‘Chakar Moonlight Lake’ is an arrangement. It was originally a famous folk song, but the arrangement combines pop, folk, and bel canto techniques. Practice it first, and if you can’t sing it, just tell me, and I’ll give you a simpler one.”

Xiao Chi showed no hesitation, and quickly entered the recording booth.

Liu Bing shook his head and sighed as he watched him. It was good that he had courage, but he’d soon realize the reality. If he gets hurt, don’t go crying to Ji Chenxuan saying he was bullied.

Liu Bing pulled a metal cigarette case from his pocket, walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and held it in his mouth. The faint smoke billowed out and swirled in the air.

Because of Xie Ting’s matter, Liu Bing didn’t want to owe Ji Chenxuan any favors, which was why he agreed to help with this newcomer. But that didn’t mean he’d lower his standards for the artist. If this Xiao Chi turned out to be hopeless, he wouldn’t waste any more of his precious time on a lost cause.

As for the song “Farewell to the Past,” he had already reviewed it. It was certainly good, but it wasn’t nearly enough to secure the championship at the finals.

Other contestants usually had a team behind them—songwriting, choreography, styling, training, and even marketing were all essential. It wasn’t just about “singing well” that would make someone a winner.

Although Xiao Chi was someone Ji Chenxuan wanted to support, Liu Bing knew that Ji would never manipulate the results of the competition just for personal reasons.

Now that the topic of the “mysterious dark horse contestant” is gaining so much attention, if Xiao Chi can debut as the champion, the road ahead in the music industry will be a broad and smooth path, growing wider and wider. On the other hand, if he fails, he could become a stepping stone for others and the target of ridicule across the internet.

While Xiao Chi was practicing in the recording booth, Liu Bing was not idle either. He had already contacted several industry big shots to create a few custom tracks for Xiao Chi’s competition. The tactics other contestants were using were nothing more than leftovers from Liu Bing’s own playbook.

He was a one-man team.

Xiao Chi, however, didn’t understand or care about the complex stakes involved.

He could sing the original version of “Chakar Moonlight Lake,” but the arranged version wasn’t in his database.

Inside the recording booth, Xiao Chi put on his headphones, and the projection screen in front of him displayed the sheet music and lyrics. As the prelude began, the accordion led into a familiar yet unfamiliar melody, with strong ethnic flavor and a lively rhythmic atmosphere, coupled with an innovative and unique native vocal style.

Xiao Chi carefully compared the new and old versions of the arrangement. The vastly different musical styles, every pitch rise, every ornamental passage, every note transition, were like enjoying his favorite creamy cake—he immersed himself fully in it.

For him, music was never a stepping stone or a tool for fame and fortune; it was a passion, an instinct.

After listening carefully to the song once, it was all clearly imprinted in his mind.

Xiao Chi adjusted the microphone and began to sing along with the music in his headphones.

When Xiao Chi’s voice filled the practice room, Liu Bing, who had been lost in thought, was startled. He suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to turn off the amplifier in the recording booth, and everyone outside could hear it clearly.

But how much time had passed? The tune was probably still unfamiliar to him, yet he was already able to sing?

Liu Bing frowned and, out of habit, glanced at his wristwatch—only to find that the hands were still pointing to 3 p.m.

He took off his watch, checked it for a moment, and realized it was broken… Wait, this meant Xiao Chi might not have been late after all? He had wronged him.

“Chakar Moonlight Lake” tells the story of two lovers who meet and fall in love by the lakeside, only to be suppressed by society and nearly jump into the lake to end their lives. In the end, they break through the shackles and renew their love in a beautiful celebration.

The original version starts in A minor, but the arrangement raises it to F minor. When Xiao Chi began to sing, his pitch was spot on, and his unique, clear voice gently and warmly resonated through the practice room, like a spring breeze caressing willow trees.

It began with a pop style, telling the tale of the couple’s fateful meeting. With skillful transitions, gradual layering, and an increasingly open voice, the bel canto flourishes pushed the melody to its climax.

The long-held breaths fully piled up the emotions, reaching a peak. The high notes exploded continuously, and Liu Bing, shocked, stared at Xiao Chi in the glass booth. The cigarette in his hand shook, and the hot ash fell on his hand, making him gasp in pain.

The passionate chorus finally came to an end, and Xiao Chi’s voice dropped from high to low, turning into a lyrical recitative, with undulating, soft singing until the breath finally faded away.

This guy… is something else!

By the time the song ended, Liu Bing subconsciously rolled up his shirt sleeves and felt goosebumps all over his arms.

As Xiao Chi emerged from the recording booth, he saw Liu Bing standing at the door, staring at him intently with an indescribably complex expression in his eyes.

Xiao Chi instinctively touched his cheek and wondered, “Is there something on my face?”

Liu Bing’s lips moved, and after a long pause, he begrudgingly managed to utter, “You sang decently.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Chi replied with a modest, slightly embarrassed smile.

Liu Bing felt extremely frustrated. He had intended to give this newcomer a tough challenge, but unexpectedly, he had been shocked by him instead.

Is this guy even human?

“Over the next period, I will arrange a few experienced mentors for you based on your situation and tailor your training,” Liu Bing coughed lightly. After Xiao Chi had displayed his talent, Liu Bing’s attitude was far from the arrogance he had shown when they first met.

“By the way, although your singing skills are not bad, it’s not enough to just stand still and sing in a recording studio. With your looks, you’re more suited to a singing and dancing style. Do you know how to dance? If not, I…”

Before he could finish, Xiao Chi immediately perked up, his eyes sparkling, “Singing and dancing? That’s my specialty!”

“???” Liu Bing was dumbfounded, swallowing back his words about finding him a dance teacher.

How is it that you can do everything?! Are you even human?!

Could you leave some room for others?!

At this moment, Liu Bing’s inner self was crumbling.

Meanwhile, Ji Chenxuan was sitting in his office, still wearing that conspicuous pink scarf.

He had finished signing the last document, rubbed his brow, and leaned back against the chair, glancing at the wall clock—it was less than half an hour until quitting time.

Thinking about a certain someone somewhere in this building, he found himself growing restless.

Unusually, he decided to leave work early.