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

The first episode of "I Am a Singer" was broadcast live globally.

The studio was three times larger than that of "Echoes of the Clouds," with seats stretching from the first to the third floor, and even the corridors and fire exits were packed with people.

Luo Qianyu drew the last appearance order—the final one.

In front of the monitor in the waiting area, she quietly watched everyone else's performances all night. The first to take the stage was Lin Bonian, a three-time Golden Melody Award winner, whose rendition of "Glorious Years" was deeply moving, with the entire audience of three thousand singing along. The second was Kay Tse, the godmother of folk music, who sang a lesser-known song while holding a guitar, and the comments section was filled with tears. The third, the fourth... all were top-tier performers; any one of them could fill half a book with their resume just by standing on stage.

Luo Qianyu nestled in a folding chair in the corner, her legs draped over another chair, her phone upside down on her knees, looking quite relaxed.

But her left hand kept pinching the pleats of her skirt.

Squeeze it and then loosen it, loosen it and then squeeze it again.

The red dress was chosen by Xu Qing.

"Red is all consumed," these are Xu Qing's exact words. "When the stage lights shine down, black swallows people up, white hair floats, and red is just right."

Luo Qianyu rolled her eyes at the time: "Are you the producer or the stylist?"

"It was just something I did."

Thinking of this, Luo Qianyu glanced down at the hem of her skirt, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.

On the monitor, the sixth singer had just finished singing when the entire audience erupted in thunderous applause.

My phone vibrated; it was a message from Xu Qing.

Don't pinch the skirt, it'll wrinkle.

Luo Qianyu loosened her grip and suddenly looked up and around—she didn't see Xu Qing in the waiting area.

She glanced down and replied: 【Where are you?】

Upstairs.

How did you know I was pinching the skirt?

[Just a guess.]

Luo Qianyu stared at the screen, typed three words, deleted them, and finally sent a "get lost" emoji.

My phone vibrated again.

Sing your own song, and don't worry about anything else.

Luo Qianyu took a deep breath, stuffed her phone into her makeup bag, and zipped it up tightly.

A staff member came over: "Teacher Luo, it's time to wait in the wings."

Luo Qianyu stood up, tugged at her skirt, and walked towards the stage entrance. The hem of her red dress trailed on the ground, creating a small gust of wind as she walked. She brushed past the previous singer who had just come off stage in the aisle. The singer glanced at her, her gaze carrying a polite "You're here too." Luo Qianyu smiled and nodded, without replying.

Standing in the darkness at the stage entrance, I could see the host outside reciting the opening remarks.

"The last singer to debut is Luo Qianyu, from the champion duo 'Bluebird Flying Fish' of 'Echoes from the Clouds'—who is competing as an independent singer this season!"

The applause was mixed with whispers.

Luo Qianyu could tell that there was curiosity and anticipation, but more than anything, there was a sense of scrutiny, like "I'd like to see how well you can sing all by yourself."

The lights went out, and the entire venue fell silent.

A spotlight descended from the dome and shone on the center of the stage.

Luo Qianyu stepped out of the darkness and into the beam of light.

A person, without a mask, without a guitarist, without piano accompaniment.

The red dress shone brightly under the white light.

In the corner of the last row of the audience, Xu Qing leaned back in his seat, his hat pulled low. A middle-aged woman sitting next to him, holding a glow stick, turned and glanced at him: "Young man, why aren't you holding up a sign?"

"Introverted".

The woman pursed her lips and continued waving her glow stick.

On stage, the prelude began.

The piano was very light, like a drop of water falling into an empty room.

Then a very thin layer of strings is laid down, supporting it almost imperceptibly.

Xu Qing handed over the arrangement to the show's band director a week in advance. The markings on the score were insane—the dynamics of each measure and the entry and exit times of each instrument were accurate to a fraction of a second. When the band director received the score, he cursed, "Is this guy crazy?" After the rehearsal, he added, "I wish I had this disease too."

The prelude has lasted for eight bars.

Luo Qianyu spoke.

"The bubbles in the sunlight are colorful."

Her voice was extremely low, almost a whisper. In the studio with over three thousand people, you had to hold your breath to hear what she was singing.

"Just like me, who was deceived, I am happy."

The mid-to-low range vocals are shrouded in a misty texture, neither bright nor clear, but carrying a heavy weight, like a stone sinking into deep water.

"What's the point of pursuing right and wrong?"

When ending this sentence, Luo Qianyu made an extremely subtle treatment—the ending sound did not return to zero, but left a wisp of air on the last word, so that the sound rose slightly before disappearing, like a question, or like a sigh.

In the first row of the judges' panel, a veteran music critic paused, his pen still in his hand.

"Your lies are based on the fact that you still love me."

Even with the final intro before the chorus, Luo Qianyu's volume still didn't pick up.

restraint.

Extreme restraint.

The entire studio was unnaturally quiet, so quiet that even the whooshing sound of the air conditioning vents could be clearly heard.

Then the chorus came.

"Beautiful bubbles, though fleeting sparks—"

The transition from true voice to falsetto was completed on the word "pao" (泡), clean and crisp, exactly as Xu Qing said in the recording studio.

The sound began to rise from the lowest point, followed by the strings, with the cellos and violas working together to expand the entire sound field outwards.

"All your promises, though so fragile—"

In these four bars, Luo Qianyu's voice transitioned from chest voice to mixed voice, and the timbre changed—from misty to clear. But it wasn't the kind of sweet, cloying brightness; it was the kind of brightness that comes from peeling away a layer of callus to reveal new flesh, tinged with pain, but clean and pure.

"But love is like a bubble; if you can see through it, what's there to be sad about?"

The last three words fell softly to the ground.

When the first chorus ended, the old lady next to me who was waving a glow stick stopped waving and covered her mouth tightly with both hands.

Xu Qing pulled his hat brim down a little.

The second verse begins.

"I should have known that bubbles burst at the slightest touch."

Luo Qianyu's voice began to change—not in terms of technique, but in terms of emotion, like light leaking out from a cracked wall.

"Like a wounded heart, it is unbearable torment."

Her breathing control was completely different from what it was like in the recording studio two weeks ago. The results of her five-kilometer morning run and swimming pool breath-holding training were fully reflected in every musical phrase that required long breaths – every breath was used wisely.

"It's no one's fault."

"No matter how many lies you tell, it's because you still love me."

In the second chorus, Luo Qianyu's volume showed a clear progression, with the sound pressure level half a notch higher than the first time. However, this wasn't forced; it was a natural sense of volume that emerged after her chest resonance was fully opened, like a room suddenly having all its windows pushed open. The string section's intensity increased accordingly.

"Love is like a bubble; if you can see through it, what's there to be sad about?"

When she sang this line, Luo Qianyu's eyes reddened. It wasn't acting.

Here comes the plot twist.

Even the most beautiful flowers will wither after they have bloomed.

Even the brightest star will fall after a brief flash.

Her true voice was pushed to its limit in this passage—the entire mid-high range was covered, not a single note was weak, not a single breath was superfluous, and every word was nailed to the beat like a nail.

Love is like a bubble; if you can see through it—

The sound abruptly stopped a beat here.

It was just one shot, but the hearts of more than three thousand people in the audience were in their throats, hanging in mid-air.

"What's there to be sad about?"

These three words were sung in falsetto—a dramatic drop from the highest point of the natural voice directly into falsetto, the contrast was startling, yet the transition was so seamless that no one could detect a single flaw. Someone on the judging panel gasped in astonishment.

Why are you sad?

"What's there to be sad about?"

Why are you sad?

The four lines are repeated, with the emotional intensity increasing with each line. The voice jumps back and forth between falsetto and natural voice, tearing apart a layer with each jump, each layer more ruthless than the last.

Some judges have already stood up.

Luo Qianyu closed her eyes briefly.

The last paragraph.

"It was all just bubbles, a fleeting spark; all your promises were too fragile—"

The ultimate outburst.

Her voice exploded.

It wasn't the kind of metallic, explosive vocalization; it was the kind where everything surged forth from the deepest part of the body in one breath—like a spring compressed to its limit suddenly releasing, all the power pouring out in a single instant. The pitch soared from the mid-range, spanning nearly three octaves, all flowing seamlessly together in that moment.

The wall she had banged against seventeen times in the recording studio—she kicked it through now.

The full string orchestra played at full volume at the same moment, and the air in the entire studio vibrated.

"And your silhouette, it's my fault for not seeing through it, that's why I'm so sad."

The sound began to fall from its highest point, inch by inch.

"How can we find the key to love again?"

"Embracing loneliness, isn't that also loneliness?"

She practically yelled it out—her voice was rough and broken, imperfect, but it slammed into everyone's chest.

"Love is like a bubble, it's my fault for not seeing through it, that's why I'm so heartbroken~~"

The final touches.

Luo Qianyu's voice gradually lowered, returning to the extremely low position it had at the beginning, like someone who had walked a very, very long way finally returning to the starting point.

"A bubble in the rain bursts at the slightest touch."

"The passionate heart that once burned brightly has long since sunk."

"Say you love me."

The sound was so faint it was almost gone.

"If you're lying to me—"

She paused for half a second.

For half a second, there was no sound in the entire studio.

I'd rather you stay silent.

The last note faded into the air, the strings stopped, and the piano's lingering sound hummed in the sound system for two seconds before disappearing as well.

Quiet.

Nine seconds in total.

Nine seconds of silence felt like a lifetime.

Then a boy on the third floor shouted—a sound so loud the whole building could hear it, like a spark falling into a powder keg. Applause erupted from that point, sweeping outwards in all directions. The first row stood up, the second row stood up, the judges stood up, and the audience on the third floor started stomping their feet, making the entire floor tremble. Some were crying, some were shouting, and some were throwing glow sticks into the air.

When the host rushed out from behind the curtain, his eyes were red.

Luo Qianyu stood in the center of the stage, the hem of her red dress swaying slightly.

She didn't move; she just stood there.

His chest heaved violently, sweat slid down his forehead, rolled down his collarbone, and shimmered in the spotlight.

It looks like it's glowing.

In the last row, in a corner, Xu Qing pushed his hat brim up. The older woman next to him was wiping away tears with a tissue, sobbing as she tugged at his sleeve: "Young man, why aren't you clapping!"

Xu Qing patted twice, not with much force, but the smile on his lips was wider than at any other moment that night.

He took out his phone and sent a message to Luo Qianyu.

The skirt isn't wrinkled.