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

The voice suddenly rose an octave.

"Locked into a dark trap."

The air in the entire venue seemed to have been sucked out.

Then the chorus came.

"The same moonlight, yet it makes me increasingly uneasy."

Xu Qing's voice exploded.

It wasn't a technically skillful high note; it was an explosive burst of emotion, where the vocal cords were naturally stretched to their limit. Fang Hong, one of the judges, immediately stood up.

"The clearest footsteps you left behind are the ones that guide me in my loneliness."

Luo Qianyu's harmonies flowed in from behind him, the two voices like two rivers converging at the edge of a cliff, and then falling together.

"The same moonlight, how can it not illuminate the shape of the future?"

Luo Qianyu's voice ripped through the air.

It wasn't sweet, it wasn't gentle, it was a bloodshot roar pulled from the very bottom of the chest.

Everyone was stunned.

This is not the Luo Qianyu they know who "can only sing sweet songs".

"Oh, that's fine, my love."

Xu Qing and Luo Qianyu sang the last line at the same time.

"Let the lonely moonlight fill my window."

Put the guitar away.

After the first chorus, the entire audience went wild. But they didn't give the audience time to react.

Xu Qing's fingers landed on the strings again, and the second verse of lyrics flowed seamlessly into the next section.

"The road to freedom has thus blocked our desire to escape at breakneck speed."

"No longer cautious and tense."

"The time spent alone has replaced the hugs we longed for."

Luo Qianyu took over the lead vocals in this section. Her voice in the mid-to-low range had something that Xu Qing couldn't teach her—a kind of dullness from being beaten down by life and then getting back up.

"No longer in urgent need."

"Too much rationality in the world is being countered by the force of your departure."

"Locked into a dark trap."

The second chorus.

"The same moonlight, yet it makes me increasingly uneasy."

Xu Qing's voice and the guitar both intensified simultaneously. The gauze was already soaked with blood, and the strings were stained with red.

"The clearest footsteps you left behind are the ones that guide me in my loneliness."

"The same moonlight, how can it not illuminate the shape of the future?"

"Oh, so be it, my love. Let the lonely moonlight fill my window."

Interlude.

Xu Qing's guitar solo began in the silence, the melody falling from the high register to the lowest note, then rebounding, rising, and falling again. It was like someone repeatedly falling and getting up under the moonlight.

Chen Che, in the waiting area, had his hands in his pockets.

His lips moved silently, following the melody.

His silver ring had worn into the fabric of his pocket several times.

The last paragraph.

Xu Qing's voice changed.

The restraint and outburst of the first two paragraphs have faded, leaving only a dry, almost whispering calm.

But this calm is more frightening than any roar.

"The same moonlight is actually making me more and more uneasy."

"Why is it that the most vivid memories you left behind are all reminders of what I've lost?"

Luo Qianyu's harmonies spread out behind him like moonlight, softly.

"The same moonlight can no longer illuminate the shape of the future."

Xu Qing closed her eyes briefly.

When he opened his eyes again, he roared out his last two sentences.

"Oh, can you come back, my love?"

"Let mad love fill my window."

The guitar's last chord hung in mid-air, its resonant sound humming in the studio like a tolling bell.

Then. Silence.

A deathly silence.

It lasted for a full seven seconds.

Seven seconds later, the stands exploded like a volcano.

Applause, screams, stomping. Some people stood up, then more people stood up, and finally the whole audience stood up.

The person in the front row holding the "Plagiarist" banner had crumpled it into a ball and stuffed it under the seat.

On the judges' panel, Fang Hong clapped until his hands were red, and his eyes were glistening with tears. Zhou Zhengping sat on the table with his water glass on the table, his mouth slightly open, not saying a word.

In the control room, the director shouted into the walkie-talkie, "Switch all the cameras over there! All of them!"

In front of the monitor in the waiting area, Su Man's hand rested on the armrest of the chair, her fingertips turning white.

She didn't say anything.

Chen Che pulled his hand out of his pocket, returned to his position in the control room, and sat down.

He watched Xu Qing and Luo Qianyu on the monitor, their figures in the center of the stage, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Pervert," he said softly.

On stage, Luo Qianyu's face was covered in tears, and even the edges of her koi mask were wet.

She walked up to Xu Qing and saw that the gauze on his right hand had turned completely dark red.

Luo Qianyu grabbed his hand.

Xu Qing did not dodge.

Luo Qianyu lowered her head and pressed her lips to the blood-stained gauze on his fingertips.

The screams from the entire audience were deafening.

Xu Qing's hand froze in mid-air.

Then he gently straightened her koi mask, which had been tilted again, with his left hand.

"It's crooked again."

Luo Qianyu glared at him through her mask.

The Luo family villa in Beijing.

Luo Tianxiong sat alone in the living room watching the live stream.

On the coffee table sat an opened bottle of Moutai. It was the same bottle Xu Qing had left behind last time.

When he finished singing, he picked up his glass and took a swig, then poured himself another glass and drank it down, and finally picked up the bottle and poured himself a third glass.

"happy."

The butler, Old Zhou, stood to the side, witnessing Master Luo drink three cups in a row for the first time in three years.

"Brother Luo, what about Deep Sea Capital?"

"What's the rush?" Luo Tianxiong put down his wine glass, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

On the screen, Xu Qing is leading Luo Qianyu backstage.

Luo Tianxiong's lips curved upwards slightly, a very small curve, but it was indeed a slight curve.

"This kid is interesting."

Across the ocean.

In an office where the location is indistinguishable.

A person sits in the dark, with the live broadcast of the semi-finals of "Echoes from the Clouds" playing on the screen in front of them.

The image freezes on the moment Xu Qing plays the last chord.

The phone rang.

He answered the call.

The person opposite me was Deepsea Capital's agent in mainland China, and their voice was tense.

"Boss, the soft approach isn't working anymore. He circumvented the copyright lawsuit with his new song, and he can't turn the tide in terms of public opinion either."

The person in the shadows remained silent.

The agent swallowed hard.

"...We have no choice but to use 'that thing'."

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

Then a voice came from the shadows.

"hair."

The phone hangs up.

A screenshot of Xu Qing adjusting Luo Qianyu's mask on the screen has been captured and is going viral online.

The person in the shadows stared at the picture for a long time.

"Xu Qing."

His voice was very soft.

"Do you think there's only one moon?"