A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

The popularity of the Asian Culture and Arts Festival continues to soar, like oil being poured onto a hot fire.

As expected, the Chinese army has completely dominated the trending lists on Weibo, Twitter, and YouTube.

#Shen Qingqiu's divine opera singing will last forever#

#China's Opening Ceremony: A Dimensional Reduction Attack#

#LinYan, the first person to peel shrimp at the bird's nest#

Domestic netizens are filled with a festive atmosphere, much like during the Lunar New Year. However, the situation is quite different in South Korea and Japan, across the ocean. The stark contrast and extremely fragile national pride have completely broken the defenses of some extreme fans and entertainment companies in both countries.

The SM Entertainment Building in South Korea.

Kim Tae-woo bit his thumbnail hard, staring intently at the trending topics on Twitter. The overwhelming uproar from last night still made his ears ring even with his eyes closed.

"We absolutely cannot back down. Shen Qingqiu's high notes are simply beyond the capabilities of human vocal cords!" The manager stood to the side, gritting his teeth. "I've already spent money to contact eight music critics with millions of followers to lead the charge in condemning her for lip-syncing!"

Soon, a long post appeared on Twitter and its popularity skyrocketed. The poster was Park Jung-hoon, a well-known South Korean music producer.

"From an acoustic and vocal limit perspective, Shen Qingqiu's operatic vocal transitions and metallic high notes in 'Eternal Glory' completely defy the limits of human physics. That absolute penetrating power is 100% the result of using million-dollar post-production audio editing equipment and electronic synthesizers. For China to play with 'technology and ruthlessness' on such a significant international stage is an insult to audiences across Asia!"

This short analytical essay, piled high with obscure "professional terms," ​​was quickly and wildly shared by Japanese and South Korean netizens who saw it as a lifeline.

"I knew it! How could there possibly be such a god-like live performance! It turns out it was just auto-tuning!"

"True gold fears no fire, and lip-syncing fears no power outage! We strongly demand that the Chinese delegation apologize!"

"Watanabe Miho truly represents strength; Shen Qingqiu, return the stolen glory!"

Kim Tae-woo also took the opportunity to post a sarcastic tweet on his main account: "Respect the stage, respect authentic music. Technology can enhance the sound, but it cannot cover up a hypocritical soul."

This wave of sour grapes from the international internet quickly swept back to China.

Chinese netizens were so angry they laughed.

"These little brats can't handle losing, so they start throwing tantrums?"

"Lip-syncing? Are you blind or deaf? Are those microphones worth hundreds of thousands of dollars just for show?!"

"Is Xinghai Entertainment's PR department dead?! Get out there and do something!"

Noon.

Xinghai City, hillside villa.

Lin Yan had just woken up naturally. He was wearing bright yellow SpongeBob SquarePants pajamas and was standing in front of the open kitchen island, intently frying a piece of M9 Wagyu beef.

Shen Qingqiu, dressed in a burgundy silk robe, leaned lazily against the island counter. Her slender fingers swiped across the tablet, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Those people on the internet are crazy, insisting that my voice was synthesized by AI." Shen Qingqiu pushed the tablet right in front of Lin Yan's eyes.

Lin Yan glanced at the screen, rolled his eyes dramatically, and with a flick of his wrist, skillfully flipped the steak over, making a sizzling sound.

"Just a few sour chickens jumping around, why bother with them?" He didn't even look up. "Medium or medium-well steak?"

"Seven points." Shen Qingqiu sighed helplessly. "But Lao Liang is so anxious he's about to jump off a building. He says that letting them throw dirty water on you will affect your reputation, since the lyrics and music of this song are attributed to you."

Upon hearing this, Lin Yan turned off the induction cooker with a click.

He grabbed a towel and slowly wiped his hands, then took out his phone from his pocket.

"Saying my wife lip-synced? They've spoiled themselves."

Lin Yan had no intention of having the public relations department send any high-sounding lawyer's letter.

He logged directly into the account that hadn't been used for over half a year—[LinYan], the account that had once criticized Grammy-winning producer William so harshly that he had to apologize on Twitter.

He then opened WeChat's "File Transfer Assistant" and found an audio clip he had casually recorded three days earlier during a closed-door rehearsal at the Bird's Nest, which he had casually plugged into the mixing console.

There was no background music.

There was no audio editing.

Noise cancellation wasn't even turned on.

Pure, unadulterated human vocals on separate tracks.

Lin Yan dragged the 30MB file into the input box and typed out a short and extremely arrogant English sentence.

"This is fake singing? You're just too weak."

Click send.

Lock the screen, throw the phone away.

Pick up the knife and fork and continue cutting the steak in one smooth motion.

The moment this tweet was posted, it was as if the entire internet had been hit by a nuclear bomb with tremendous force.

South Korea.

Park Jung-hoon, legs crossed, slumped in his ergonomic chair, sipping his iced Americano and scrolling through the comments section. Seeing Lin Yan's seemingly zombie-like activity, he scoffed dismissively, put on his monitoring headphones, and casually dragged the mouse to open the audio, preparing to scrutinize every frame.

The audio has started playing.

"The long night breaks into dawn—"

"Our nation spans ten thousand miles, lasting for millennia!"

Without any accompaniment, the most authentic sounds of breathing and exhalation, along with the terrifying chest and head resonance, pounded into Park Jung-hoon's eardrums like a heavy hammer.

"Clatter."

Park Jung-hoon's hand jerked violently, causing his iced Americano to fall to the ground and his headphones to slip off his head.

He stared intently at the waveform on the audio software, as if he had seen a ghost.

There are no electronic embellishments or distortions from artificially boosting the pitch with auto-tuning software. This is pure, unadulterated human vocals!

In fact, the dry version is even more impactful than the live version with accompaniment. The extreme tearing sensation and pure wildness of the Peking Opera style are enough to send chills down your spine.

"This is insane... It really is a human voice..." Park Jung-hoon slumped in his chair, feeling as if the entire acoustic physics of the world had collapsed.

Experts on YouTube and Twitter, like sharks smelling blood, downloaded the audio and pulled it into their software for analysis.

In less than half an hour, the wind direction completely reversed.

A top North American mixing engineer went live to dissect the waveform in a hardcore manner: "I can swear on my twenty-year career that there isn't a single frame of audio editing in this recording! No software can replicate this graininess! This Chinese female singer's vocal control is simply a masterpiece kissed by God himself!"

The entire international internet fell silent instantly, as if everyone had been disconnected from the internet.

Kim Tae-woo broke out in a cold sweat and quickly locked his account, deleting the sarcastic tweet and pretending nothing had happened.

But Chinese netizens weren't about to let him off the hook. They bypassed the Great Firewall and formed groups to force his comment section to close.

The celebrations on Weibo in China lasted all night.

#LinYanCai needs more practice#

#Shen Qingqiu's terrifying audio recording confirmed#

"Hahahaha! I'm laughing so hard I could scream like a goose! Lin Yan's move has completely slapped the faces of the Japanese and Korean music industries!"

"As expected of my God of Words! He can deliver a truly powerful and concise delivery without wasting a single word!"

"What do you call a 'dimensional reduction attack'? This is it! Using raw, unfiltered audio to overwhelm you—that's fucking ruthless!"

At this moment, in the villa halfway up the mountain.

Shen Qingqiu ate the Wagyu beef that Lin Yan had cut in small bites, while browsing the internet for the disastrous state of Japanese and Korean sour chicken. Finally, a pleasant smile appeared on his lips.

Lin Yan took a sip of his black tea and leaned back lazily in his chair. "A bunch of weaklings, just wasting my time cooking. Did Lao Liang call?"

"He's hit eight in ten minutes," Shen Qingqiu chuckled.

"Tell him not to bother me with the rest of the arts festival stuff. My mission is accomplished, and I'm going on my honeymoon," Lin Yan said matter-of-factly.

Shen Qingqiu's fingertips stiffened slightly, the silver knife and fork hovering in mid-air. She raised her head, her usually cool eyes now filled with astonishment and an unconcealable gleam.

"Honeymoon? When...did you plan that?"

Lin Yan solemnly pulled out a crumpled travel agency note from his pocket, which he had picked up from who-knows-where, and slammed it on the table.

"Look, a ten-day European tour, mainly about sleeping on the bus and peeing when you get off. I want to go fishing on the Danube River and then take a long nap at the foot of the Swiss Alps," Lin Yan planned enthusiastically.