After being dumped by the diva, I was picked up by her arch-enemy.

Mid-November. Seoul.

Cold air moved south, bringing drizzle and a chilly wind, with temperatures nearing zero degrees Celsius.

Outside the Gochiku Sky Dome Stadium, the atmosphere was bustling with noise.

The red carpet ceremony for the Asian Music Awards (AMA) is underway. As Asia's most influential music event, the event has attracted hundreds of mainstream media outlets from across Asia, and tens of thousands of fans have packed the streets outside the venue.

The South Korean organizers decorated the red carpet in a very luxurious manner.

On the huge electronic screen, highlights of past award winners were played on a loop.

A silver van was parked at the starting point of the red carpet.

The car door opened.

Park Joon-hee, dressed in a custom-made white suit, sported striking silver-gray hair and her signature sunny smile as she stepped onto the red carpet.

"Ahhh! Junhee oppa!"

"Asia's King of Pop! Park Joon-hee!"

The South Korean fans at the scene went wild instantly, their screams almost lifting the roof off the stadium.

Park Joon-hee thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention. He deliberately slowed his pace, waving and making heart gestures at the cameras, lingering on the red carpet for a full five minutes before finally reaching the interview area.

The South Korean host excitedly handed over the microphone.

"Jun-hee, as the biggest favorite for 'Singer of the Year' tonight, is there anything you'd like to say to your fans across Asia?"

Park Joon-hee brushed a stray hair from her forehead and replied in fluent Korean, "Thank you for your support, fans. Tonight on stage, I will show everyone who is the center of Asian pop music."

This statement has a hidden meaning.

The South Korean reporters in the audience all smiled knowingly.

Next, Japan's national treasure-level composer, Miyamoto Kawa, appeared. He wore a traditional black kimono, his expression solemn, his steps steady. Although there were no deafening screams, the flashbulbs of the media were as bright as day, showing the master ample respect.

Another ten minutes passed.

A black Mercedes-Maybach slowly came to a stop.

The noise at the scene inexplicably quieted down for a moment.

The car door opened.

Jiang Yichen stepped out of the car.

He wore a minimalist black double-breasted suit, without a bow tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was no exaggerated hair color, and no complicated accessories.

Clean, neat, and austere.

He put one hand in his pocket and calmly glanced across the red carpet in front of him.

Domestic viewers watching the live stream instantly went wild.

"Holy crap! Jiang Shen's aura is amazing!"

"This is a real thug in a suit! Much better than that show-off in the white suit before!"

"Go, Jiang Shen! Crush them!"

Jiang Yichen walked onto the red carpet.

There was no deliberate lingering, nor any fawning interaction. He walked steadily straight to the interview area.

South Korean media had clearly received some kind of instruction. As soon as Jiang Yichen stood still, several microphones were shoved in front of him, the questions extremely pointed.

"Mr. Jiang, I've heard that several of your popular songs in China are composed using traditional instruments. Do you think this outdated arrangement method will still be effective in the face of competition from all over Asia?"

"Mr. Park Joon-hee once said that Chinese music cannot go beyond Asia. Do you feel inferior standing here today?"

These questions were all asked in Korean, with simultaneous interpretation provided.

Malicious obstruction.

The live stream chat exploded instantly, filled with profanities.

Su Yao stood on the outer edge of the red carpet, gritting her teeth in anger.

Jiang Yichen remained expressionless.

He didn't look at the South Korean reporter who asked the question, but instead took the microphone directly from the host's hand.

"The advancement or backwardness of music cannot be defined by words."

Jiang Yichen's deep voice carried throughout the venue through the speakers.

"If anyone thinks that Chinese music can't go beyond Asia."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the camera, a cold smile curving his lips.

"Then tonight, I'll crush the threshold of Asia for you to see."

After he finished speaking, he shoved the microphone back into the host's hand and turned to walk into the inner area.

The scene was left in dead silence, followed by furious protests from South Korean journalists.

The inner area.

The organizers also put a lot of thought into the seating arrangement.

The person in the center of the first row, seat C, is Park Joon-hee.

Jiang Yichen was positioned to Park Joon-hee's left, while Miyamoto Kawa was positioned to her right.

The three of them together create a tense and chaotic atmosphere.

Jiang Yichen walked to his seat and sat down.

Park Joon-hee turned her head, looked Jiang Yichen up and down, and said in broken Chinese, "Mr. Jiang, you were talking a big game outside. I hope you can be just as confident when the awards are presented later."

Jiang Yichen leaned back in his chair, not even glancing at him.

"I can't understand dog barks."

He replied casually in fluent Seoul-accented Korean.

Park Joon-hee's smile froze instantly, and a flash of anger appeared in her eyes.

On the right, Miyamoto Kawa pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, snorted coldly, and closed his eyes to rest.

8 PM.

The Asian Music Awards ceremony has officially begun.

The stage lights came on.

Two top South Korean hosts walked onto the stage and announced the opening of the ceremony in an exaggerated tone.

The earlier, less prestigious awards were split among several singers from Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and South Korea.

Half an hour later, the main event began.

"Next up is the award for Composer of the Year!"

On the big screen, clips of the works of the five nominees were played in turn.

The final two works are Miyamoto Kawa's "The Tragedy of Cherry Blossoms" and Jiang Yichen's "East Wind Breaks".

The award presenter opened the envelope, glanced at it, and his expression changed slightly.

He then announced loudly into the microphone.

"Who won the Best Composer of the Year award at this year's Asian Music Awards is—"

"Huaxia, Jiang Yichen! 'East Wind Breaks'!"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Miyamoto Kawa suddenly opened his eyes, his brows furrowed.

Jiang Yichen stood up and buttoned up his suit jacket.

He didn't even look at the two people next to him, and walked straight onto the stage.

After receiving the trophy from the guest, Jiang Yichen walked to the microphone.

"Thanks."

Two words. He turned and stepped off the stage.

Extreme indifference, extreme arrogance.

This is just the beginning.

For the next hour, the entire Gaochi Sky Dome became Jiang Yichen's personal pickup point.

"Lyricist of the Year – Jiang Yichen! 'Blue and White Porcelain'!"

"Arranger of the Year – Jiang Yichen! 'Wanjiang'!"

"Best Music Video of the Year – Jiang Yichen! 'Blue and White Porcelain'!"

Once, twice, three times...

Jiang Yichen moved back and forth between the stage and his seat.

Every time he went on stage, he would only say the simple words "thank you".

Park Joon-hee's face went from red to white, then from white to pale. He had originally thought that, thanks to the organizer's efforts, he would at least win the Best Arrangement award. But in the end, he didn't even get close to it.

Miyamoto Kawa's face was equally grim. His prized composition had actually lost to a mere young Chinese boy.

South Korean fans were completely silent.

The domestic live stream rooms have completely exploded, with the barrage of comments so dense that the screen is almost invisible.

"He's gone berserk! Jiang Shen is going on a killing spree in Seoul!"

"Hahaha, look at Park Joon-hee's purplish-red face, it's hilarious!"

"Are you getting supplies? Jiang Shen needs to prepare a sack to hold the trophies tonight!"

at last.

The ceremony featured the two most important awards.

Album of the Year.

Singer of the Year.

The host's hands were trembling as he held the envelope.

"The winner of this year's Asian Music Awards for Album of the Year is..."

"Jiang Yichen! 'East Wind Breaks'!"

"The winner of this year's Asian Music Awards for Best Singer is...."

"Jiang Yichen!"

boom!

The Chinese reporters and a few Chinese fans at the scene erupted in deafening cheers.

Jiang Yichen won eight out of eleven nominations!

Moreover, they are all the most prestigious and prestigious awards!

This is unprecedented in the history of the Asian Music Awards.

Jiang Yichen took to the stage for the eighth time.

He was holding two heavy trophies in his hands.

This time, he did not step down immediately.

He stood in front of the microphone, his gaze passing through the blinding spotlight and landing on Miyamoto Kawa and Park Joon-hee in the audience.

Some say that Chinese music lacks a modern industrial system. Others say that Chinese music cannot go beyond Asia.

Jiang Yichen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable power.

"A trophy can only represent past achievements."

"Next, I will perform a new song as the grand finale tonight."

"This song is my gift to Seoul and to all of Asia."