Being a gigolo was too much for him, so he had to become a music superstar.

Half a damn thing.

Zhao Leiming slammed his pen on the table.

My phone vibrated.

He glanced at the caller ID, took a deep breath, and answered.

"Zhao Leiming," Wang Shaohui's voice came through the receiver, without any pleasantries, "What are you doing?"

"Mr. Wang—"

"I'm asking you to do one thing. One thing! Eliminate an amateur. The weakest of the thirty-two contestants, and you can't even handle that?"

Zhao Leiming gripped his phone, his lips twitching slightly. He wanted to say, "President Wang, this person is no pushover," but the words caught in his throat.

"Mr. Wang, I've already lowered the score I can control to the lowest possible level." He tried to keep his tone calm. "The audience score is 68, which won't be lower than that all season. But the mentors gave it 94, which accounts for 60% of the score, so I can't change that. Besides, the scores from other real audience members are also high, which is beyond my control."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Then Wang Shaohui's voice became even colder.

"Can't control it? Then what are you doing as the director? I spent so much money investing in this show, just to be told I can't control it?"

Zhao Leiming did not respond.

"Next round," Wang Shaohui said in a commanding tone, "I don't care what methods you use, Lin Buyi must be eliminated. Do you understand?"

"...I heard you clearly, Mr. Wang."

The phone hangs up.

Zhao Leiming put his phone on the table and stared at the surveillance footage for a long time.

The contestants on stage are leaving one after another. Lin Buyi is at the very back, alone, carrying his guitar, walking at a leisurely pace.

Liu Lei leaned closer and whispered, "Director Zhao, what's the next step?"

Zhao Leiming did not answer immediately.

He stared at Lin Buyi's back on the screen, the words Fang Yizhou had just said echoing in his mind: "Your song scares me."

Fang Yizhou has been making music for twenty-five years. When he says he's afraid, he's not just saying it casually.

Zhao Leiming has been working in variety shows for twenty years. He's seen countless contestants—talented, untalented, well-connected, and unconnected. But this Lin Buyi—

"Director Zhao?" Liu Lei called out again.

Zhao Leiming came to his senses.

"No rush," he said. "Let's organize today's recording footage and follow the previous editing plan."

"What about Lin Buyi's part? Is it still a close-up shot?"

Zhao Leiming thought for a moment.

"Let's start with the normal method." He paused after saying that, then added, "Don't press too hard."

Liu Lei paused for a moment, then nodded and left without asking any further questions.

Zhao Leiming sat alone in the control room, watching the stage footage gradually dim on the monitor wall.

0.5 points.

He almost killed this guy. Just a hair's breadth away.

But he didn't kill him.

Zhao Leiming couldn't quite describe his feelings. Was it relief? Or regret?

he does not know.

He only knew one thing—Wang Shaohui wouldn't let this go. There would be new tactics in the next round. And Zhao Leiming was caught in the middle; sooner or later, he would have to make a choice.

He didn't want to make that choice.

But he may not have a choice.

……

Lin Buyi found a quiet corner in the backstage corridor and sat down.

It wasn't the rest area—the rest area was full of teams from various groups, and it was too noisy. He just wanted to find a quiet place to stay for a while.

He leaned against the wall, placed the violin case beside his legs, and closed his eyes.

He was completely exhausted. The tension of the entire day, from the start of makeup application—he didn't have a makeup artist, so he didn't wear makeup—to waiting in the wings, waiting, going on stage, performing, waiting for the score, and hearing the result... every second was draining his energy.

Now that the competition is over, the tension that had been building all day suddenly eased. The exhaustion washed over me all at once.

He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, his mind blank for a moment.

Then I heard footsteps.

Very light. Hesitant. Takes two steps, stops, takes two more steps, stops again.

Lin Buyi opened his eyes.

Shen Yihe stood at the other end of the corridor, holding two bottles of mineral water, looking at him.

She was still wearing the same plaid coat she wore on stage, and her hair was still in that simple low ponytail. She wasn't wearing much makeup, but her eyes were red—it was hard to tell if it was from nervousness or from just having cried.

"You...you're here," she whispered. "I've been looking for you for ages."

"Why are you here? Has your group finished recording?"

"Finished recording." Shen Yihe walked over, squatted down next to him, and handed him one of the bottles of water. "Here you go."

Lin Buyi took the water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. It was cool, but refreshing. His throat had been dry all day, and this sip of water instantly soothed it.

"Thanks."

Shen Yihe also unscrewed her own bottle of water and took small sips. The two sat side by side on the floor against the corridor wall, neither of them in a hurry to speak.

After a while, Shen Yihe spoke first.

Congratulations! You've advanced.

"And you?"

Shen Yihe smiled. The smile was forced, clearly because she had just escaped a close call.

"They advanced too. Second to last. They almost didn't make it."

"How many points?"

"84.2." Shen Yihe looked down at the water bottle in her hand. "The last place in our group got 81 points. I only scored a little over 3 points higher than her."

Lin Buyi didn't say anything encouraging. He knew Shen Yihe didn't need encouragement. What she needed was someone to sit quietly beside her.

The two sat in the corner of the corridor for about five minutes. Occasionally, staff members would pass by, glance at them, and walk away; no one paid any attention to the two contestants sitting on the floor in the corner.

"Lin Buyi"

"Um?"

"I watched your song... in front of the monitor." Shen Yihe's voice was very soft. "After watching it, I kept thinking about something."

"What are you thinking about?"

Shen Yihe lowered her head, her fingers stroking back and forth on the mineral water bottle.

"I'm thinking... why can't I write songs like that?"

Lin Buyi glanced at her.

"It's not a technical issue." Shen Yihe's voice became even softer. "I know your technique isn't good—don't be angry, this is what Teacher Fang said, not me—but your song...there's something in it. I've been writing folk songs for so many years, always chasing that thing, but I always feel like something's missing."

"What's missing?"

Shen Yihe thought about it for a long time.

"Maybe...shamelessness."

Lin Buyi was stunned for a moment.

Shen Yihe quickly explained, "I'm not insulting you! What I mean is... you weren't afraid of losing face when you wrote the song. You dared to write down the ugliest side of yourself. Someone as mediocre as me—who would admit to being mediocre on a nationally broadcast stage? But you wrote it. You sang it. You didn't care what others thought of you."

She looked up at Lin Buyi.

"I can't do it. Every time I write something real and raw, I hesitate. I think, will writing like this expose myself too much? Will others think I'm being pretentious? Then I revise it. The song is still good after the revision, but the most touching thing is gone."

Lin Buyi remained silent for a few seconds after listening.