Chu Zhi's figure fully melted into the shadow cast by the faux backdrop. Clad entirely in black, his stage presence had been carefully crafted by the music director in collaboration with his own vision.
From within the darkness, a high, soaring falsetto emerged. The backing harmonies, already layered into the instrumental, were Chu Zhi's own voice—soft, muttering, nearly indistinct, setting the mood with a haunting resonance.
"If justice is the deep, helpless sorrow,"
"Then let me be the flicker of light in the ashes."
Like a detective being strung along by the nose, clues led only to dead ends and broken threads.
The falsetto still dominated. As Chu Zhi's technique grew more refined, he began to understand just how inhuman the talent of someone like Farinelli must have been. For outsiders, it was a spectacle. For insiders, it was a masterclass.
"The morning light dries the final line of sorrow,"
"Black ink settles into peace."
His genderless falsetto sounded like a requiem for the victim's soul.
A crimson flash briefly lit the stage screen. If any audience member happened to catch it, they would have seen a sharp dagger, its blade dripping with thick, nearly black blood.
"Raindrops will wash the darkened wall,"
"The curtains fall, the spotlight fades."
As Chu Zhi's rap verse ended, cellos and violins carried the melody forward, with the marimba's percussive rhythm adding texture.
The first section ended. Chu Zhi emerged from the shadows, cape trailing. Made of a special fabric, the cape disintegrated into fluttering fragments with a sharp tug.
Strobe lighting mimicked lightning, while the LED floor displayed rippling puddles as if rain had just fallen. The stage radiated a cinematic intensity that was unprecedented.
Down the corridor, Jo Kwon no longer wore his earlier easy smile. His expression had turned grim. He couldn't understand the lyrics, but even without that, the composition and arrangement were breathtaking.
It wasn't an exaggeration. In his previous life, many YouTubers had shared "Chapter Seven of the Night" with foreign friends. Even those who disliked Jay Chou's vocals or the MV still praised the composition and arrangement.
Music knew no borders. Greatness was universal.
"Truth walks where footprints disappear, A strange scent in the air, deliberate clothes draw attention."
"Everyone wears masks and lies for different reasons, But the motive always shares one name: desire."
Chu Zhi remembered the song completely, and he never replicated blindly. Earlier, the rap verses were layered into the backing track. Now came the falsetto.
At this point in the song, there was a sudden shift. The killer's advantage crumbled, and the detective began to close in. The rap grew bold, finally overpowering the delicate falsetto.
The momentum turned. Evidence had been found!
"Through the mire of human nature, who can emerge untainted? We may forgive and forget, but we must know the truth."
"(Ahahah~)"
"The iron bed was moved—at last, the final piece falls into place."
This falsetto section had no lyrics, just a pure, angelic voice, like a choir praising divinity. But here, it sounded like a funeral hymn for the killer. Everyone—audience, judges, fellow contestants—was utterly immersed.
In the top-tier waiting area, Liang Zhengwen was on the verge of tears. It reminded him of the first time he heard rap as a teenager.
He couldn't help blurting out on camera, "Holy shit, is this what raw talent looks like?"
Whether it was Chu Zhi's first rap song or not no longer mattered. Give Liang thirty more years, he still couldn't write something like this.
"He rapped an entire detective murder story. And it all rhymed. You kidding me? Every single line rhymed with 'ang' from start to finish. You know how hard that is with gothic lyrics this dark?"
It was absurd. Liang didn't believe in rumors or hype—but the credits were clear. Lyrics, composition, arrangement, all done by Chu Zhi.
"Chrysanthemum Terrace" had been stunning, but it wasn't Liang's field. That song earned admiration. This one sparked awe.
Rap composition and arrangement could be taken this far? He had never known.
Having just defeated Gunslinger, Koguchi Yoshihiro had also made it into the top-tier room. He wasn't as outwardly excited. As someone who equated appearance with ability, he found Chu Zhi's musical feat perfectly acceptable.
"Chu-san is remarkably talented. I must invite him to perform as a guest at my concert this year," Koguchi mused.
The song entered its final act. The detective had discovered the truth. A typewriter sound ticked into the instrumental.
"I heard footsteps, soft-soled leather shoes.
He opened the door, the wind stirred the oil lamp.
The typewriter stopped at the killer's name—I turned."
"The night sky over Westminster boiled over, A beautiful death bloomed in my chest."
"I savored the last sweet taste of truth,
Smiling, I remembered that justice is a quiet unfolding.
Violins play on the Thames."
In the music video, the killer was revealed to be the assistant. But that twist wasn't obvious through the song alone, which meant stage design had to make it clear.
Chu Zhi whipped off his cape. With a dramatic pull, it soared into the air. A hidden mechanism tugged it upward, like a curtain about to veil the light. Emotion surged to its peak.
The stage lights burst into brilliance. This was the only moment the audience could see the stage clearly from end to end. The false wall collapsed with a loud crash. The airborne cape shredded apart, black fragments fluttering down like ash.
"If evil is a cruel and dazzling movement,
Then I will write its finale with my own hand."
"The morning light dries the last line of sorrow,
And black ink sinks into peace!"
Darkness would be torn away. The truth would always rise.
The performance ended.
Chu Zhi bowed slightly and exited, leaving the shock to linger in the hearts of the audience.
He hadn't gone backstage yet. He still had to return to hear feedback from the public panel.
"Whew. So that's what a stage designer does," Chu Zhi murmured to himself. He knew he had nailed it.
After a beat of stunned silence, thunderous applause erupted. Chu Zhi heard it loud and clear. It was so intense, one might think there were thousands clapping.
Cheers echoed across the hall:
"Damn, this song is insane! I don't even know music, but that arrangement blew my mind."
"I've never liked rap. Never understood it. Today, I get it."
"Just one question—is Chu Zhi even playing fair? Everyone else gets humble, then he shows up like he's got four jokers in hand. What is this, cheating?"
"Dark gothic aesthetic? Hits me right in the feels."
...
After about forty seconds, the applause began to fade. Chu Zhi stepped back onto the center stage, offering a slight nod to the public panel.
Just like when "Chrysanthemum Terrace" aired, the panelists rushed to speak. Once again, Zuo Yang Feixing was the fastest.
Among online music review boards, three carried the most influence. One was "Yi Ming Chart," run solo by Zhang Mingyi, and the other was "Zuo Chart," curated by none other than Zuo Yang Feixing.
Zuo had once co-led QQ Music and Baidu Music. The projects flopped due to bad leadership, but his industry reputation and network remained solid.
"Absolutely perfect. I've heard countless rap songs, domestic and international, but never one that stunned me like this," Zuo praised without hesitation.