"North wind rising, the night is long—alright, that's enough," Chu Zhi stopped abruptly.
He knew the rules of battle: know your enemy and know yourself, and you'll never lose. Before coming, Chu Zhi had watched several episodes of the show. He understood exactly how I Am a Singer-Songwriter worked.
During the demo track preview segment, contestants usually held back, either singing only a short excerpt or changing the key on the spot so no one could get a real grasp of the song. Chu Zhi chose the former approach. After singing a short piece, he got up and left the recording booth.
"That's it? Come on, Old Nine, sing a bit more. Just like always, you're hiding too much," Yu Lan commented.
Just like always... If the original Chu Zhi had known how to keep a few cards up his sleeve, things might not have ended so badly for him.
"I studied a few episodes beforehand, picked up a few tricks," Chu Zhi replied with a smile, already confirming in his heart that this Bluebird Man was someone who wore silk over steel.
"They're all skilled singers, so I have to be cautious too." Chu Zhi lifted up all the contestants with that line, then pivoted smoothly. "What kind of song did Third Brother prepare? I'm looking forward to it."
"...Then I'll go second," Yu Lan paused, then stood up and volunteered to go next. He was usually among the last to perform.
Looks like he's gotten wiser, harder to fool than before, Chu Zhi thought.
Back when they both competed on Future's Child, Yu Lan had taken third place, but their careers had diverged drastically. When Chu Zhi had been framed and hated by the entire internet, Yu Lan had messaged him with a few words of sympathy. But less than half a year later, Chu Zhi made a comeback, even more popular than before. That sympathy turned into jealousy.
If you get wildly popular, then what does that make me?
"It's just a pretty face from the heavens. What's the big deal," Yu Lan thought bitterly. He truly believed that with the right opportunity, he could become just as popular.
"Challenge me. Come on, challenge me." Yu Lan brought out the title track from his upcoming album, originally planning to challenge Zhu Xinyue and move up to the top tier.
Now that this "old acquaintance" had arrived, going head-to-head could help him climb the ranks on the back of fame. Yu Lan had the script all written out in his head.
Compared to other music variety shows, I Am a Singer-Songwriter offered one big advantage: new songs. Contestants could promote their new albums on stage.
Singing just a snippet in a different key made it impossible to guess the real song. After stepping out of the glass booth, Yu Lan even joked, "Feeling the pressure. Got crushed twice by Brother Zhengwen, and now I can't even sing properly."
This demo preview segment was basically a time-filler. Everyone saved the real emotion and surprises for the actual performance.
When Zhao Quan sang, the AI mascot "Xiao Qi" displayed translated lyrics on its face screen. The lyrics were heavily flirtatious.
Most Korean artists leaned on popular styles like pop dance, hip-hop, and K-pop. Judging by the lyrics, Zhao Quan's song seemed to be rap.
Next, contestants headed to their respective rooms based on their tier. As the challenger, Chu Zhi was sent to the lower-tier room. If he won, he'd swap places with the defeated contestant.
The top, middle, and lower-tier rooms were styled differently to reflect their status. The top-tier room was over 50 square meters, with a keyboard, violin, and even a toy pushcart. Seating included a single armchair and a three-seater sofa.
The lower-tier room, where Chu Zhi arrived, was barely 20 square meters. No sofa. Just two red metal stools and a small swing. The only instrument was a xiao (flute) hanging on the wall.
By show rules, a challenger should get a separate room. But given iQIYI's talent for cutting corners in unexpected places, it wasn't surprising.
"Brother Nine, I'll give you the golden seat," said Li Jun, referring to the swing.
"I saw it the moment I walked in." Chu Zhi sat down and gently rocked.
The other contestant, whose face was half-covered by his bangs, went by the nickname Xiao Xu. He chimed in, "The middle-tier room has a seesaw. The top-tier one has a pushcart. I guess I wasn't born for pushcarts."
"Pushcarts aren't necessarily more fun than swings," Chu Zhi said.
The top celebrities in Chinese entertainment could keep entire apps running by themselves. Everyone wanted to ride their coattails.
Li Jun, who knew how to read the room, didn't want to be too obvious. "Brother Nine, can you play this shakuhachi? In the past few episodes, both of us tried to get a sound out of it, but failed."
"Shakuhachi?" Chu Zhi took it down and examined it. The mouthpiece was an internal cut.
"This is a Southern Xiao," he concluded.
"Both the Southern Xiao and Japanese Shakuhachi trace their roots to the Tang Dynasty's version of the Xiao, so they look similar—thicker and longer than the usual kind," Chu Zhi explained.
Xiao Xu and Li Jun exchanged awkward looks. They'd been misnaming the instrument for two episodes.
"It's a common mistake," Chu Zhi added kindly.
"How can you tell them apart?" Li Jun asked.
"The Shakuhachi has an external cut mouthpiece, shaved outward. The Southern Xiao has an internal cut, carved inward," Chu Zhi explained simply, even though the real differences were more technical.
"6666. We all call him Brother Nine, but maybe we should switch to Six instead," Li Jun laughed, full-on praise mode.
Xiao Xu wanted Chu Zhi to play a little, but was afraid he might not be able to. If that happened, things could get awkward—and even if Chu Zhi didn't mind, his fans definitely would. In showbiz, even the quietest of nobodies had to watch their words.
Earlier in the show, Zhao Quan had been the top dog, so they'd thrown some compliments his way. Now that Chu Zhi was here, it was time to pivot and throw a few compliments his way too.
During their chat, the announcement came through: lower-tier contestants were to choose their opponents. The mascot Little Qi's electronic chipmunk voice boomed from the speakers, creepy as ever.
"Brother Nine, can I go first?" Li Jun asked. "I planned to challenge Brother Lan ever since the last episode."
He added, "But if you were aiming for him..."
"A man's word is his bond. Go for it," Chu Zhi said directly. "Just give it your best."
"No problem. This song of mine is solid. Trust me." Li Jun was full of confidence.
Round one of episode five began. Li Jun challenged Yu Lan from the middle-tier group. The other contestants could watch the stage performances from their room TVs.
Yu Lan's song was experimental. The lyrics included long stretches of Mongolian, paired with the rare traditional instrument yatga. Li Jun performed a heartfelt love ballad. After hearing both songs, Chu Zhi had a pretty good idea of who would win.
Votes were cast by 101 public judges, another unique feature of I Am a Singer-Songwriter. No public audience voting. These 101 were either music producers or online music industry workers.
Were they professionals? Compared to regular viewers, maybe a little—but not by much. That's why the show had moved away from simple ratings. Now, each judge just shared a quick comment after listening.
Yu Lan: 71 votes.
Li Jun: 30 votes.
Yu Lan won.
"Your song was really great too," Yu Lan gave Li Jun a hug.
"Still lost though. Your arrangement was just too good," Li Jun said.
"Let's collaborate sometime," Yu Lan replied.
In adult speak, "sometime" usually meant "never." Li Jun didn't take it seriously. Head low, he returned to the lower-tier room, a little discouraged.
The loser was downcast. The winner wasn't exactly thrilled either. Yu Lan returned to the middle-tier area, not in high spirits.
What was the point of beating Li Jun? That song—with Mongolian lyrics and the rare yatga—was like using a cannon on a mosquito.
Yu Lan didn't come here to beat Li Jun.
He came to beat Chu Zhi.