Entertainment: A song that brought his deceased wife back to life.

(The dash indicates a sustained sound and is definitely not meant to be a filler word.)

Suman was the second to appear.

The stage lights changed color three times, and the four synthesizer sounds were layered together, the low frequencies making the chests of the audience in the front row tingle.

Su Man stood on the elevator platform and slowly rose up, her silver sequined dress dazzling under the spotlight.

The moment he opened his mouth, the entire studio fell silent.

It must be admitted that Su Man's vocal skills are truly solid. Her high notes are stable, her breath control is long, and her transitions are clean; every technical detail has been honed to perfection. Her dolphin-like high notes in the chorus held steady for six seconds, sending the audience into a frenzy.

The applause and screams lasted for nearly twenty seconds.

In the VIP viewing room, Wang Jianguo opened a bottle of champagne.

"fall."

The assistant quickly poured him a glass.

Wang Jianguo leaned back on the leather sofa, looked at the stage through the one-way glass, and took a sip of his drink.

"This is what you call an A-level stage."

He picked up his phone and sent a message to the copyright director: "Has it started yet?"

"Everything is ready. Channels 3 and 7 will be activated as soon as the Bluebird Flying Fish comes on stage."

Wang Jianguo put down his phone and took another sip of champagne.

-

After Su Man finished singing, she bowed and left the stage.

The overall score is not yet displayed. According to the rules, it will be announced after all guest performances are completed.

The host walked to the front of the stage.

"Next up, please welcome—Bluebird Flying Fish!"

All the lights in the studio were turned off.

In the darkness, only a beam of white spotlight illuminated the center of the stage.

Xu Qing sat on a high stool, holding a guitar, his face half-covered by a dark blue bird mask. Luo Qianyu stood to his right, her lips taut beneath a red koi mask.

The stagehands were counting down in their in-ear monitors.

"Five, four, three—"

Xu Qing turned his head and said something to Luo Qianyu.

No one heard clearly.

But Luo Qianyu's lips loosened.

She closed her eyes.

In the control room, the sound director, dressed in gray overalls, stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

The countdown has ended.

He pressed the activation button.

A line of red text pops up on the screen:

**"Permissions have been taken over by Tencent Security. Operation denied."**

He pressed it again.

The same prompt.

His face turned pale.

He frantically pressed the button seven or eight times, each time with the same result. His account had been locked, all channel parameters had been reset to factory settings, and the administrator privileges on the control panel had been transferred to the Tencent Music Technical Security Department.

He slumped into the chair.

My phone vibrated.

He didn't dare to look.

-

on the stage.

Xu Qing's right hand landed on the strings.

The first sound rang out.

Guitar.

Only a guitar.

Clean arpeggios, one note after another popping out, slowly, very slowly.

The audience thought it would be the same minimalist style as last time.

Two seconds later.

The strings came in.

Not sampling. Not synthesizers. Twenty-four tracks of real strings—twelve violins, six violas, four cellos, and two double basses—exploding simultaneously in hidden speakers on either side of the studio.

The intro immediately filled the entire space.

The hairs on the arms of the audience in the front row stood on end.

A girl in the middle row instinctively covered her mouth.

Someone in the back row stood up from their chair.

On the judges' panel, Fang Hong's hand froze in mid-air, forgetting to put down the teacup he was holding.

Wen Xiaoman was stunned.

Zhou Zhengping's expression froze for a second.

Yang Fan looked towards the control room, then glanced at the stage, his eyes flickering.

With strings forming the foundation, Xu Qing's guitar is interspersed throughout, with chord progressions that are ridiculously complex, yet every transition is incredibly smooth.

Luo Qianyu spoke.

"A haze begins to gather on the distant horizon—"

As soon as the first sentence was uttered, the last bit of background noise in the studio disappeared.

"How can sorrow be calm and pure—"

Her voice sounds different from the one in the recording studio.

In the recording studio, she sang it twelve times, only managing to express that pain when Xu Qing pushed her to the brink of collapse.

Now she doesn't need to be forced anymore.

With her eyes closed, her mind was filled with images from the past year: the smell of instant noodles in the basement, the beer foam at the food stall, the roasted sweet potatoes in the snow, the chicken leg that was stolen, and the blanket that was tucked into her at four in the morning.

"A faint hint of helplessness always lingered on my face—"

Every word carries genuine emotion; it's not something built up with technique, but something that grows vividly from the heart.

"You used lip reading to say you wanted to leave—"

Xu Qing's voice cut in.

Low. Sinking. Stable.

"His heart is not in it."

Two words.

Fang Hong finally put down his teacup from the judges' table. His hand trembled slightly as he did so.

"The sadness slowed down silently—"

Luo Qianyu continued.

"The surging tide, do you understand—"

Xu Qinghe joined in.

"It's not waves, it's a sea of ​​tears—"

The 24-track string section rises simultaneously in this phrase, and the viola harmonics take an unexpected key change, directly pulling the emotion to another dimension.

The chorus is coming.

Turn around and leave—

Luo Qianyu's voice went upwards.

"You can't say what you want to say—"

Xu Qing's voice came in from behind.

"I can't say 'let's break up'—"

The two voices intertwined, one high and one low, one bright and one dark.

"The love between a seabird and a fish was just an accident—"

Luo Qianyu's eyes welled up with tears. The mask hid them, but her voice rang out.

"Our love—"

"The love given—"

"Differences have always existed—"

"Can't come back—"

Xu Qing's guitar weaves between the two voices, with layers of strings overlapping, creating a soundscape on stage that goes beyond the word "magnificent."

"Dust in the wind waits, eventually accumulating into harm—"

"Turning away, unable to say goodbye—"

"The azure coral sea, a fleeting moment of emptiness if missed—"

Luo Qianyu's voice faltered slightly over the word "pale".

It wasn't a mistake. It was genuine heartbreak.

The version I sang in the recording studio when Xu Qing hugged me from behind has this feel to it.

"Back then, we were like this—"

"You and I both—"

"Not mature enough to be honest—"

"It shouldn't be like this—"

"Without enthusiasm, your smile can't be forced—"

"Love is buried deep in the coral sea—"

The first chorus has ended.

The strings faded away, leaving only Xu Qing's guitar.

Interlude.

Xu Qing's fingers played a solo on the strings. Cm9 transitioned to Abmaj7, then to Fm11.

At the end of the corridor, Chen Che stood at the door of the control room, the music arrangement document in his hand falling to the ground.

He didn't pick it up.

He stared at the masked man on the stage in the surveillance footage.

Eight years.

It's that chord progression.

The same.

As the interlude ended, Luo Qianyu's voice rose again.

How to rebuild a destroyed sand sculpture?

How can a cracked love be repaired?

"It all ended too quickly, and you said you can't let it go—"

Xu Qing took over.

What expectations are hidden inside the seashell?

"Waiting for the flowers to bloom—"

The two sang together.

"We've lost all interest in guessing anymore—"

The strings rose again. This time, the double bass added a dark line, vibrating the air in a dull thud.

"Facing the sea breeze—"

"Facing the sea breeze—"

"Salty Love—"

"Salty Love—"

"If you can't swallow it, there's still a future—"

The last chorus.

Luo Qianyu released all her emotions.

Turn around and leave—

"You can't say what you want to say—"

"I can't say 'let's break up'—"

"The love between a seabird and a fish was just an accident—"

Her voice paused for a moment at its highest point.

All twenty-four string tracks were pushed to their limits.

"Our love has always had differences—"

"Dust in the wind waits, eventually accumulating into harm—"

Xu Qing's guitar stopped on the last chord. The strings receded layer by layer.

"Turning away, unable to say goodbye—"

"The azure coral sea, a fleeting moment of emptiness if missed—"

"We weren't mature enough to be honest with each other back then—"

The string music fades away.

Only Luo Qianyu's voice remained.

"Without enthusiasm, your smile can't be forced—"

The last sentence.

"Love is buried deep in the coral sea."

The last note on the guitar fades away.

The stage fell silent.