Chapter 52: Off One’s Game

In past seasons, during the semifinals of "A Song to Fame," the show always invited previously eliminated contestants to return to the stage and perform once more. Each of these individuals possessed remarkable talent and popularity; their failures had often been due to poor song choices or subpar performances that did not reflect their true abilities.

Nevertheless, their real strength was far greater than what the audience had witnessed. Take, for instance, the rock singer who was eliminated in the top sixteen—before participating in "A Song to Fame," he had already built a reputation as a street performer. Then there was the tough girl, Li Rong; her family background was said to be extraordinary, rumored to be the daughter of a wealthy family, though when Lin Chuan interacted with her earlier, he hadn’t sensed any of that.

Countless contestants boasted a variety of backgrounds. Fang Hao, the most representative, was not unique in his circumstances—there were at least two or three other participants with similar backgrounds this season. Another semifinalist, a young woman who, although lacking such dazzling credentials, possessed a beautiful voice and a striking appearance, making her a campus goddess in her university. It was said she often performed at other colleges and had built substantial popularity.

Among so many contestants shining with various halos, Lin Chuan and Huang Quan were the most ordinary. Lin Chuan fared a little better—before appearing on the show, he had gained some notoriety in bars with a couple of original songs, which even sparked heated discussion online for a time. As for Huang Quan, before entering the competition, he was just an average worker, a typical grassroots singer. Even during the contest, his song choices and singing talent were unremarkable; his advancement to the semifinals owed more to luck than skill.

One by one, the returning contestants finished their performances, escalating the atmosphere to a fever pitch. The arrival of the judges, with their insight and exceptional vocal skills, added even more excitement to the semifinals. When the host officially announced the start of the competition, Fang Hao, the first singer on stage, appeared calm—so composed it seemed he didn’t view this as a heated contest, but merely another performance.

Meanwhile, Lin Chuan stood on the right side of the stage, his eyes repeatedly glancing at the three perpetually vacant seats in the audience. Every time he looked, anxiety gnawed at his heart, his mind already distracted from the competition.

Fang Hao had prepared thoroughly for this semifinal. His chosen song was an old classic from this world—its style gentle, its lyrics beautiful, though few young people nowadays had heard it. But when the music began and Fang Hao sang the first note, the judges and audience alike were stunned.

Fang Hao had transformed the song significantly; the lyrics remained unchanged, but the musical style had evolved entirely. What was once a calm, lyrical ballad had become a rock anthem, wild and fierce in the chorus, erupting with passionate cries and shouts that seemed to vent emotion. Yet, after the chorus ended, everything suddenly returned to tranquility, gentle as flowing water, soothing the ripples that had just been stirred in the listeners’ hearts.

The same song, rendered in a radically different style, was a risky move—deviating so far from convention, a single misstep could result in complete failure. People tend to hold preconceived notions about things; any changes to what they are accustomed to are hard to accept.

Yet Fang Hao deliberately defied expectations, transforming a song utterly in such a crucial competition—a bold and challenging act.

When the music finally stopped, a faint smile appeared on Fang Hao’s face, radiating confidence; he believed that his song would move everyone present. Indeed, as he had predicted, though the song had been altered dramatically, it still retained echoes of its original spirit. The blend of these two styles—wildness followed by peace, like the sun emerging after a storm—created a deeply pleasing effect.

If a single word could describe it, “perfect” would suffice.

Thunderous applause erupted, the judges’ eyes sparkled as they offered their praises. There was no doubt: they lauded Fang Hao’s vocal prowess and musical talent. Transforming a plain song into something exhilarating was not difficult, but to simultaneously evoke the serenity after a tempest was beyond the reach of ordinary performers.

As Fang Hao’s rival, Lin Chuan was the most shocked—but his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the absence of Lin Yiyang and Wang Yue. The host called Lin Chuan’s name three times before he finally snapped out of his daze.

Worried and distracted, his steps were stiff, causing many to believe that Fang Hao’s performance had rattled him. The brightest smile belonged to Yang Wei at the judges’ table; seeing Lin Chuan’s current state, he was secretly delighted.

Under such circumstances, it was clear Lin Chuan would not be able to give his all in the competition; elimination was almost inevitable.

“Lin Chuan, you look worried—are you alright?” The host, microphone in hand, asked with a smile.

Lin Chuan nodded, his brows tightly furrowed.

Seeing his expression, those who had speculated that Lin Chuan was intimidated felt their suspicions confirmed.

The host offered a few comforting words, urging Lin Chuan not to feel pressured and to perform as he normally would. A staff member brought a chair onto the stage; Lin Chuan sat, cradled his wooden guitar, and glanced once more at the audience, his frown deepening.

The guitar’s simple melody spread through the studio via the microphone. Most people heard nothing out of the ordinary, sitting quietly and expecting Lin Chuan to surprise them. But those with musical expertise and experience detected something amiss.

If one listened carefully, the prelude sounded somewhat chaotic, the notes not quite right.

What was happening? Was Lin Chuan truly nervous, or was something else causing his distraction?

Chen Dong, a veteran of the music scene, sat below, his expression growing grim. From the start of "A Song to Fame," Lin Chuan had been his favorite. The young man’s greatest trait was his talent; Chen Dong loved every original song Lin Chuan performed.

He’d even wondered if Lin Chuan had a master helping him behind the scenes, for someone so young couldn’t possibly create so many classics. Especially the song “The World Outside”—to write such a song, the composer must have considerable experience and stories to tell.

But looking at Lin Chuan—he was only twenty-eight. How could he possibly write such songs? To satisfy his curiosity, Chen Dong had even arranged for someone to investigate Lin Chuan, hoping to find the mysterious songwriter behind him.

The results were surprising. Besides frequenting bars, Lin Chuan spent most of his time at a kindergarten. He had a five-year-old son, adorable and handsome, but no wife. Why? Chen Dong and his investigator didn’t know, but that wasn’t the point.

The crucial thing was that Lin Chuan had no “expert” supporting him, and with his current finances, it was unlikely he could afford to hire someone to write songs for him.

So the question remained: how did Lin Chuan write these songs? The only plausible explanation was that he was a musical prodigy.

Yes, Chen Dong could only conclude that Lin Chuan’s talent for music and songwriting was extraordinarily rare, even monstrous. He even considered, once the competition ended, using his connections to get Lin Chuan into a major agency. With proper grooming, Lin Chuan might become a future superstar.

For this semifinal, Chen Dong had high hopes for Lin Chuan. Fang Hao was strong, but if Lin Chuan performed well, advancing was within reach.

But he never expected Lin Chuan to falter at the very start—a potentially fatal error for the outcome. Today’s three hundred voters were not like previous rounds; they were seasoned professionals in the music industry, and the quality of a song could not escape their ears.

If this hadn’t been a live show, Chen Dong’s fiery temper might have sent him charging onto the stage to berate Lin Chuan, then force him to replay the song.

At this moment, Chen Dong was fuming, while Yang Wei glanced back at the audience. When his eyes landed on the three empty seats, he knew with certainty they would remain vacant until the competition ended.

After all, Lin Chuan’s beloved son and girlfriend were, as yet, unaccounted for, likely still anxious and afraid somewhere.

This thought made Yang Wei’s smile even broader. He looked forward to seeing Lin Chuan humiliated after his elimination—it would be immensely satisfying.

A so-called dark horse champion—wasn’t he just another pawn in my hands?

Just then, a commotion arose at the back of the audience. The sudden appearance of three individuals prompted grumbles from those disturbed while listening to the songs. The trio, all apologetic, bowed their heads and quietly made their way to their seats.

(It’s the end of the year, and work has been busy lately. I only have a little time each day to write. Some readers have mentioned the slow update speed, but there’s really nothing I can do—hope you all understand. With Christmas approaching, to thank you for your support, I’ve decided to post a few extra chapters, even if it means pushing myself. That’s all for now.)