Chapter Eighty: Post-Match Discussion

Returning to the lounge downstairs, Lin Qihua pushed open the main door. Inside the hall, only Zhang Yuxian and her music manager, Pan Zhenyu, were sitting there, looking rather lonely. The first performer, Guan Shengjie, was also acting as the host, so naturally he couldn’t return yet. That left only her in the room.

“Oh,” the two stood up and applauded as Lin Qihua entered.

“You sang wonderfully,” Pan Zhenyu said with a smile.

“Thank you.” Lin Qihua shared a gentle hug with Zhang Yuxian. “You sang beautifully as well.”

“Honestly, you almost moved me to tears,” Zhang Yuxian said, pointing to the traces of tears still glistening at the corner of her eye. “I just kept wondering, how could it be so lovely? That song was incredible.” Her voice, soft and sweet, carried a unique lilting accent from the island, which always gave her words a coquettish, endearing quality—a distinct flavor seldom heard on the mainland.

“Thank you for your praise.” Lin Qihua sat down not far away, joining his palms in gratitude once more.

After some conversation, the two grew more familiar with each other. Though technically rivals, they were both young, and such titles mattered little. Even as competitors, it did not diminish their mutual appreciation. Each had their own insights into music, and the conversation flowed easily.

“Brother Wen was unlucky to perform after you,” Zhang Yuxian said half-jokingly, glancing at the order of appearance, her smile teasing. “Thank goodness I didn’t draw that slot.”

“The only ones truly affected are the audience,” Lin Qihua replied, shaking his head and pointing to the television screen. “Look, his skill runs deep. Slowly but surely, he draws the audience back into his music. That kind of command over the room—how rare is that?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Zhang Yuxian nodded in agreement. “Fans in Hong Kong are the toughest crowd—never easily swayed. That’s why singers there are always top-notch. If you’re not, you’d never make it. They perform under immense pressure every day; it’s forged them into what they are.”

As they chatted, Wen Weizhe finished his performance and returned to the waiting area, prompting the others to rise and greet him.

Wen Weizhe greeted them enthusiastically, and when he shook Lin Qihua’s hand, he joked, “Performing after you is no small pressure, let me tell you.”

“I just got lucky,” Lin Qihua replied modestly. “Watching your performance, though, I realize how much I still have to learn.”

Wen Weizhe smiled warmly. “It’s nothing, really. So long as I do justice to the stage and stay true to my own voice, that’s enough. I came here to challenge myself, to keep moving forward, not to grow complacent. Honestly, coming here was the right choice. To see young talents like you, brimming with strength, makes it all worthwhile.”

“Thank you for the encouragement. There’s still so much for us to learn,” they replied, offering Wen Weizhe a seat on the sofa.

Wen Weizhe, clearly experienced in social situations, soon enlivened the room with a few well-timed quips. He didn’t shy from talking about himself when asked by Lin Qihua and Zhang Yuxian, answering openly and keeping the mood relaxed.

“Here comes the fifth performer,” someone said as the commercial break ended and the next singer was introduced by the host.

“Oh, it’s her!”

Cai Yuting, a powerhouse in pop music, equally skilled in singing and dancing, stepped onto the stage. The audience erupted with excitement, indicating she had quite a few fans in attendance.

“She really is stunning,” Zhang Yuxian said with a sigh, watching Cai Yuting’s blazing stage outfit on television. The fiery costume fit her signature hit perfectly. With a dynamic beat and dazzling choreography, she quickly ignited the atmosphere.

“To perform live, you must be able to stir emotions,” Wen Weizhe explained at just the right moment. “Whether it’s high or low notes, rock or ballad, the goal is always to convey your feelings to the audience, to touch their hearts. That’s how you leave a lasting impression. Just like Qihua’s song—the moment he started, he had everyone on their feet, cheering. Don’t be fooled by the idea that ballads rarely succeed on this stage. That only means the effect wasn’t achieved. Simply put, it wasn’t sung well enough. If it’s done right, the impact can be even greater than belting out high notes. After all, people are creatures of emotion.”

“Exactly,” the others agreed.

The sixth contestant, Lu Zhixuan, made his entrance to a chorus of exclamations.

“Wow.” Cai Yuting, who had just returned from performing, turned to see Lu Zhixuan come onstage. “Even the grand master is here.”

“To think they managed to invite a legend like him—impressive,” everyone marveled. As a top-tier singer, Lu Zhixuan had always been dedicated to music and rarely appeared on variety shows. No one expected him to join “The Singing General.”

“Brother Lu’s skill is truly phenomenal,” Wen Weizhe, familiar with Lu Zhixuan, murmured in awe. “Look at that steadiness—it’s almost frightening. Even in the high notes, he has strength to spare. He could probably push even higher without strain, but this range suits his expressive style best.”

Everyone was deeply impressed. Lin Qihua also felt he learned a great deal from watching. They were all masters, each with their own distinctive style. To think that a bit of talent was enough to warrant arrogance would be childish. Look at these artists—each one a true singing general of formidable ability. Lin Qihua didn’t think his own vocal skills surpassed theirs. Even if his live effect was better tonight, it was only because he had a classic song like “Once, That Was You.” It was the song that was great, not just his singing. He still had much to learn.

Finally, Wang Yalin took the stage as the grand finale, to the anticipation of all. Dressed in a flowing white gown, ethereal and elegant, she had the whole audience crying out “goddess” the moment she appeared.

“How does she keep herself so well?” the two girls exclaimed in envy.

“She truly is a goddess—what stage presence, what style,” Wen Weizhe added, as taken aback as the others.

Wang Yalin did not disappoint the nationwide audience. She delivered a stunning rendition of “Today,” a song of great difficulty that she controlled with absolute mastery. Every detail was handled to perfection. Her title, “Soul Singer,” was no empty boast. She brought tears to the eyes of the audience; some were openly weeping. Such is the power of song—to strike the heart, to stir emotion, to leave you helpless before it.

With all the performers having finished, the waiting area finally filled up as everyone gathered. Naturally, there was a round of introductions and greetings. With Lu Zhixuan and Wang Yalin, two veritable legends, present, the group instinctively formed circles around them, letting them lead the conversation. This was also the moment for the music managers to shine, for it was up to them to keep the atmosphere lively.

Overall, Lu Zhixuan was warm and forthright, while Wang Yalin was approachable and unassuming. In fact, there was no reason for airs: first, they were on live television; second, everyone present was already a proven singing general. Mutual respect fostered closeness here. Someone who was a third- or second-tier star today might well be top-tier tomorrow; they were bound to cross paths again. There was truly no need for pretense.