No one knew how many comments were flying across the screen, but in the audience, people went even further—taking support lightboards hidden under their skirts and shouting loudly,
“Xie Feiran!”
Eighty percent of the audience raised their lightboards.
It was clear at a glance they were Xie Feiran’s fans.
The Polar Bear Staff were stunned:
How did they get the lightboards inside?
Backstage, the contestants’ faces turned green at the sight—especially Wen Qingyun, whose expression was downright ugly.
At that moment, everyone could feel the chasm of popularity.
Then, Ye Ansheng’s dizi sounded, its clear, melodious notes reaching everyone’s ears.
The fans in the audience quieted.
After a brief prelude, Wei Yunnian and Chen Linxi’s drumbeats joined in—lively rhythms, like ravens playing together.
Then, Luo Wen began to sing, his soft voice blending as if two ravens nestled together.
“Ravens fly across the cold lake, carrying away the first peach blossom blooming in spring chill.”
When this verse ended, the dizi paused, and Ye Ansheng began the second verse.
“Playing together on the branches, watching new buds sprout on the tree.”
Listening to this, the audience could already picture two ravens frolicking.
Suddenly, the drums grew tense, and a sharp pipa rang out—quick rhythms stirring unease below, as if breath became difficult.
Wei Yunnian and Cheng Linxi sang together:
“Where does the rain of arrows come from, refusing to part in the rain.”
“Black feathers fall in all directions, blood dyeing the most brilliant flowers.”
The listeners’ hearts sank.
A raven had died.
Then, erhu music burst forth—mournful, desolate, the sound of utter loss making one’s scalp tingle.
Xie Feiran’s voice, tinged with tears and hoarseness, came through the microphone.
It was a xiqu tone!
“Only in white-haired old age does separation truly come—life and death parted, the body given in sacrifice.”
“A lone shadow wanders the long night, following you to end longing.”
As Xie Feiran finished, the song neared its end.
The erhu gradually faded, like the raven’s last cry.
When the lights dimmed, everyone remained lost in the song.
Moments later, the audience erupted into thunderous applause and soft sobs.
[The moment the erhu played, I got goosebumps all over.]
[I’ve heard the original—this xiqu adaptation is amazing!]
[Is this the surprise Feiran mentioned? I cried so hard my makeup ran.]
[I hope the sisters at the scene brought tissues.]
On the Judges’ panel, Ning Chuyu was already wiping away tears with a tissue.
While wiping, she said to Xie Feiran,
“I spent so long on this makeup, and the moment you started singing, it was ruined.”
[Wuwuwu, I’m just like Queen Ning—my makeup is ruined.]
[+1.]
[This wicked man said he would make us cry with his song—and he did.]
After wiping her tears, Ning Chuyu looked at Xie Feiran.
“I’ll say it again—you performance is flawless. I’ll give all of you S.”
[Full team S! Damn, terrifying.]
Yun Ziyuan smiled beside her.
“The five of you worked together perfectly. I’ll give your whole team S as well.”
At those words, the comments and the audience erupted.
[I don’t know why, but this feels like a Xie Feiran team concert.]
[The other contestants were completely overshadowed.]
Next, Yu Xiutao took the microphone and began her evaluation.
“Xie Feiran, you gave me a huge surprise. This could be called a comeback against all odds. Whether you go solo or form a group, you’re amazing—your strength alone is enough to support a solo, and if you join a group, you can elevate the whole team’s ability even further.”
“So, I give you S.”
[Ahhhhhh, a team got three S—will the others go crazy?]
[If you lack skill and don’t work hard, love playing petty tricks, it’s only natural not to get S-level evaluations.]
[Only Song Qiusheng hasn’t given his score yet. Is he still going to play the senior card to suppress others’ scores?]
[No ability, no achievements—what’s the point of pretending? If you’re jealous of newcomers, just admit it.]
After the three Judges finished scoring, the camera cut to Song Qiusheng.
Song Qiusheng looked up, meeting Xie Feiran’s gaze.
Those eyes stared calmly, as if seeing through his hypocrisy—laying all his filth and ugliness bare.
Song Qiusheng took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“When the erhu played, I got goosebumps all over.”
[So he knows it’s an erhu now? Last time, he called a guzheng a guqin and nearly killed me.]
[Isn’t a guzheng and a guqin the same thing?]
[Ignorance is scary.]
Xie Feiran heard Song Qiusheng’s comment and smiled back, gentle yet distant, beautiful but flawless.
“Your performance left no flaws for me to pick at.”
Song Qiusheng reluctantly raised the S in his hand.
On stage, Xie Feiran curled his lips.
“Thank you, Song… Teacher.”
His tone carried hesitation, as if unsure how to address Song Qiusheng, feeling he wasn’t qualified to be a Teacher, yet his innocent face made others feel he was blameless.
Everyone present wanted to complain:
Damn, such a white lotus vibe, but I still love him—is this double standards?
Song Qiusheng couldn’t help but take a cold breath, feeling Xie Feiran was doing it on purpose.
At that moment, the Host quickly stepped onto the stage.
“Before the voting results are out, let’s have Teacher Song perform his new Song for us.”
Song Qiusheng’s expression eased a bit.
He hadn’t forgotten that he was here to promote his new Song—the Teacher role was secondary.
Yu Xiutao took a deep breath.
Who didn’t know Song Qiusheng’s level? All reliant on post-production tuning—live singing was either lip-syncing or a disaster.
Many others on the comments thought the same.
[Singing after Raven? That’s asking for trouble.]
[My brother sings wonderfully—number one album sales nationwide.]
[Heehee, is it going to be a disaster or lip-syncing?]
Of course it was lip-syncing—if it was a live disaster, wouldn’t that destroy his persona?
Even lip-syncing, Song Qiusheng wasn’t safe—after all, what played was the heavily tuned album version.
When Song Qiusheng began the first line, Xie Feiran could clearly tell he wasn’t singing at all—just mouthing the words.
Xie Feiran wasn’t the only one who knew Song Qiusheng was lip-syncing.
Most present did, but so what?
No one could point it out.
“Such an awful Song, and he still dares to lip-sync.”
Ye Ansheng muttered in Xie Feiran’s ear.
Xie Feiran propped his chin, watching the confident Song Qiusheng on stage.
He knew he was waiting for a chance.
Just as Song Qiusheng reached the Song’s climax, his foot suddenly slipped.
He yelled, but the Song kept playing.
The sudden mishap stunned everyone.
No one expected Song Qiusheng to fall on stage.
“Teacher Song!”
The Polar Bear Staff rushed to help.
The music staff hurried to stop the Song—but even if they hadn’t, everyone knew the truth: Song Qiusheng had been caught lip-syncing live.
[Hahahahahahaha—it was really lip-syncing.]
[Didn’t he claim to always sing live?]
[Qiusheng is on a show—the production team asked him to lip-sync to avoid mistakes. What’s wrong with that? What famous singer hasn’t lip-synced?]
[I recorded it—Song Qiusheng lip-syncing is confirmed. Don’t ever claim he sings live again, Song fans. This is solid evidence.]
There were Song Qiusheng fans in the comments trying to suppress the bad talk, but his rivals and those he’d stepped on wouldn’t let it go.
The moment it happened, the trending searches exploded.
Rivals instantly bought several black trends for Song Qiusheng.
#SongQiushengLiveLipSync#
#SongQiushengLipSyncFall#
On stage, Song Qiusheng clutched his twisted hand from the fall, gasping in pain.
The Song couldn’t go on, and the show couldn’t continue.
The director quickly had Song Qiusheng sent to the hospital before resuming the live broadcast.
After all, the live and onsite audience were still waiting, so the show had to go on.
At this point, the Host forced himself back onstage to continue.
“Earlier, there was an accident. Teacher Song has been sent to the hospital. We wish his new Song great sales. Next, let’s look at the voting results.”
As expected, Xie Feiran’s group scored an overwhelming number of onsite votes—far ahead of the rest.
The comments overflowed, but fans of other teams, though unwilling, didn’t dare protest.
After all, it was won by strength.
Once all votes were announced, the Host spoke.
“We all know someone will be leaving the competition today.”
The contestants fell silent.
No one dared speak.
“Those leaving this stage are…”
The Host read out twenty-five names.
With each name, another person cried.
By the end, all were weeping, making Xie Feiran’s team stand out even more.
[I believe Feiran can lead the whole group to debut (covering face)]
[The sorrow between people isn’t shared—Xie Feiran’s team looked so lost.]
After the wave of tears, everyone said reluctant goodbyes.
Even those who weren’t close acted like lifelong friends.
Once the eliminated contestants left, the Host let the remaining contestants choose their programs and teammates for the next performance.
Again, the camera cut to Xie Feiran, and the Host asked if he’d choose teammates or Song.
Again, Xie Feiran chose teammates.
“I won’t give up on my teammates.”
He answered.
Ye Ansheng was moved—hugging the big leg, success!
Afterward, others began choosing Songs.
When it was Xie Feiran’s turn, only was left.
[They don’t know what they lost—the anime battle song rises!]
[Anime spirit, burn!]
[The lightning at your fingertips is my eternal faith!]
[I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I feel so chuuni.]
The live broadcast essentially ended here.
Xie Feiran remained in the S-Class Dormitory, while Ye Ansheng and the other four were promoted as well—life quality soared.
Just as they planned to return to the Dormitory for a meal, the Polar Bear program staff stopped them, saying they wanted to do an interview.
“You can talk about your parents and friends.”
A Polar Bear Staff member smiled.
Xie Feiran froze.
Talk about parents?
Could he talk about Shi Baiyan and the Modeler who built him?
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