The tall, lanky contestant whispered, "Damn, am I listening to a national team-level performance right now? That soft mixed belt... Chu Zhi is actually killing it live."
"You really called it," the early-balding guy replied, eyes wide. "How are Li Xingwei, Lin Xia, or even Gu Peng supposed to compete with this? That song, in its original key, isn't just hard for male singers. Even most female singers would struggle."
Xiao Chi stood frozen. He'd only lent his guitar to Chu Zhi and picked his side out of courtesy. He never expected this. Turns out it wasn't that his allies were too weak—it was that the enemy brought a Gundam to the battlefield.
"You know he didn't even lower the key? And that chorus and those high notes, man..." Xiao Chi swallowed hard. "And the song is... kind of inspiring too. The way Chu Zhi sang it, it didn't even feel like he was showing off those high notes. It just felt..."
"Like an angel descended," the bald one muttered.
"Yeah, exactly. I was feeling kind of down yesterday, and now I feel... clear," Xiao Chi nodded.
Out of all the performers, the one with the most solid vocals was supposed to be their event ambassador, Gu Peng.
In the first half of the song, the reactions were:
"Not bad at all—his diction, breathing, and pitch are all solid."
"His tone is beautiful, perfect for folk."
"His head voice is legit. I don't think Chu Zhi had any formal training though?"
But in the second half:
"Wait, are those high notes really that easy? His expression didn't even change."
"Good call having him rep the federation in that China-Japan-Korea showcase."
"He's way too strong for someone in his twenties who came from the idol scene."
Gu Peng's mind was racing. It's said that people with social anxiety tend to have very active inner thoughts. Seemed true enough.
The professionals picked up the technique, but to the audience? It just sounded like an emotional, uplifting high-note thrill ride. Many walked away feeling like they could kick their depression—and maybe their misbehaving dog too.
In the crowd, a guy gripped his girlfriend's hand so tightly during the chorus that... well, disaster struck. A relationship tragedy, born mid-song.
From the moment Chu Zhi began singing, phones were raised high. Some were so hyped they even dropped theirs.
"My 888-yuan Redmi!" someone wailed, bending to pick it up. Fortunately, it survived without a scratch. Bless Xiaomi.
That guy—let's call him Xiaomi Boy—was kind of a passive fan. He remembered seeing Chu Zhi's Red Chamber livestream and feeling like the guy was crumbling, singing like he'd already hit rock bottom.
He remembered the comment section back then too. Full of sobbing emotes. To an outsider, it might have looked like a funeral livestream.
Back then, Xiaomi Boy thought he was heartless for not crying. He'd even judged the tearful stans. Were they more upset than if their parents had died?
But this live performance? It had power. Uplifted him. He even felt a strange, fleeting urge to forgive his dad... and then quickly changed his mind.
"Why should I?" he muttered. "He made me his punching bag whenever he lost at cards. Now he's old and regrets it? Please."
His thoughts were interrupted by a tidal wave of chants: "Encore!"
One thousand strong, all yelling for more.
Encore—transliterated as "An Ke" in Chinese—is a universal plea: sing another one!
These students had tasted a free show, and now they were addicted.
Chu Zhi coughed lightly, all part of the act. He subtly shifted two steps to the left, aware that the camera on the side screen would catch his every move. He wanted the entire venue to see what came next.
"I've been working on my vocals lately. Not bad, right?" he said into the mic, flashing a soft smile.
"Awesome!"
"Chu Zhi, you're the King of Live Shows!"
"Nice, so nice!"
"I used to think you were just another internet star. My bad."
To casual listeners, "great vocals" meant two things: emotion and high notes. Chu Zhi had both. Many guys in the crowd were already sliding from casual listeners into full-on fans.
"Well, since everyone's so enthusiastic, I'll—cough, cough..."
Suddenly, Chu Zhi doubled over in a fit of coughs. He pulled out a white handkerchief, and with each breathless hack, his body leaned forward. Pain etched across his face.
And then—on the side screen, clear as day—everyone saw it. A splash of red.
He hastily stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, like a student caught texting in class. The movement was too big. The crimson blotch on the white fabric was unmistakable.
He reached for his thermos to soothe his throat, but paused, as if remembering something, and quietly set it back down without drinking.
"Where was I?" Chu Zhi asked, still composed. "Right, I was saying, 'You're Not Truly Happy' is a song I practiced for a long time. I hope those of you hiding behind your own protective colors can find real happiness."
"But I've got another urgent event coming up," he added, with a regretful smile. "So—"
"It's okay!" someone shouted, and like a stone dropped into water, the reassurance rippled through the crowd.
"Take care of your health, Nine!"
"I'll wait for your next concert to make up for it!"
"That song really did make me happy!"
"Thanks, everyone." Chu Zhi smiled warmly, then stepped down from the stage and returned Xiao Chi's guitar.
"Um... Nine, can I get your autograph on it?" Xiao Chi asked hesitantly.
"I don't have a—" Before he could finish, Xiao Chi handed him a marker.
"Back of the guitar, then." Chu Zhi scribbled a wild, artistic signature.
Xiao Chi clutched the guitar like a treasure and watched him leave the stadium.
Only after the man himself was gone did the murmurs break out.
"Did you see that? He coughed up blood. Probably throat damage."
"Must've been rough. He tried to drink water and then didn't... that proves the thermos really had alcohol. Kinda sad."
"His vocals improved a lot. Honestly, with that performance? Even singers in their thirties and forties might not pull that off. Clearly gifted and hardworking—but drinking like that every time? His voice won't last."
"I used to dislike him, mostly because his fans were everywhere online. But today? I actually felt sorry for him. 'You're Not Truly Happy'... he sang that so well. Makes me wonder how much better it'd be if his throat were healthy."
The emotions in the crowd were all over the place, especially among the male fans who'd just been emotionally wrecked. The more successful Chu Zhi got, the more painful it was to watch.
It was like watching Iverson carrying a team all by himself, using pure talent and determination to weave through defenders, throwing impossible shots.
But Iverson never got a championship ring. His style burned through his body.
And Chu Zhi? You could see both the gift and the grit. But drinking before every performance? A ruined voice would be the least of his problems.
"I hope the people hiding behind their protective colors can truly be happy..." Xiaomi Boy thought back to the bloodied handkerchief, and his heart skipped a beat.
"To take a song about pain and turn it into something inspiring... Chu Zhi really is..."He couldn't find the words.
Plenty of people in the crowd had filmed it all, and they wasted no time uploading the moment online.