Chapter Seventeen: "Fragrant Rice"

Chen Fang felt as though he had transmigrated a second time. Listening to the discordant, jarring sounds on stage, he was at a complete loss for words.

A perfectly good childhood song had been forcibly twisted into a love ballad!

If Chen Fang were the arranger of this song, he’d probably be so furious he’d cough up blood.

After just ten seconds, Chen Fang couldn’t bear it any longer.

The lyrics grated harshly on the ear.

At first, Chen Fang had thought this Cheng Jie had some talent—after all, as a trainee, his singing foundation should be better than a newcomer’s.

But now, Chen Fang just wanted to laugh.

A few minutes later, Cheng Jie finally finished, slowly letting the last note fade before standing up.

The next instant, thunderous applause erupted throughout the venue.

Chen Fang was utterly bewildered.

Why are they applauding?

Seriously?

Do these people really think he sang well?

Scratching his head, Chen Fang felt as if he wasn’t in a competition at all, but rather trapped in some bizarre dream.

While Chen Fang was still dazed, the four judges had already begun their critiques.

“That was absolutely wonderful!”

“This song could easily be the title track of your new album.”

“After such a long silence, I believe your fans will be very satisfied with your performance—keep going.”

“Both the composition and lyrics are excellent works, especially the arrangement. If I’m not mistaken, it must have been composed by Teacher Dong Ke—the distinctive style made it instantly recognizable.”

The four judges spoke in turn.

Cheng Jie nodded, “Indeed, Teacher Dong Ke helped with the arrangement, and I wrote the lyrics myself.”

Chen Fang understood immediately.

Case closed!

No wonder the lyrics were so contrived.

Of course, he still had no idea who Dong Ke was. But if the judges mentioned the name, it must be someone famous.

“Passed.”

“Passed.”

...

Four votes in favor!

Cheng Jie was now the first—and only—contestant to receive unanimous approval from all four judges.

Seeing this, many of his female fans in the audience were moved to tears, feeling that all their idol’s hard work hadn’t been in vain. Online, the bullet screens overflowed with teary-eyed emojis.

Next up was Chen Fang.

But he was in no hurry.

The grand piano on stage would take another five minutes to be moved off.

It had taken five minutes to bring the piano up, five minutes for the song, and now five minutes to remove it—for Cheng Jie alone, fifteen minutes of the program had been consumed. These fifteen minutes felt to Chen Fang like someone had forced a lump of honey-dipped excrement into his mouth.

At last, as the piano was rolled offstage, Chen Fang stood up slowly and left the lounge.

Staff were waiting at the door to guide him toward the stage.

Unexpectedly, Cheng Jie hadn’t left—he was waiting by the entrance.

Spotting Chen Fang, a hint of surprise flashed in Cheng Jie’s eyes.

This man is really handsome!

Even... quite a bit more handsome than himself.

“Chen Fang?” Cheng Jie asked with a smile.

Chen Fang glanced at him, and, reminded again of the honey-dipped excrement, felt a wave of nausea.

His retching expression made Cheng Jie’s face darken—surely he wasn’t so ugly as to make people sick.

“Sorry, not feeling too well,” Chen Fang waved his hand.

Cheng Jie’s expression was gloomy. He sneered, “If you’re unwell, why are you even singing? You’re not going to collapse on stage, are you?”

Chen Fang: Do you think you’re worthy of my respect?

If Ke Min were here, she’d get slapped twice, so what makes a mere trainee like you think you’re better?

With that thought, Chen Fang’s lips curled into a smile. “Without the company backing you, you’re nothing. Useless. Watch and learn—a nobody who barely scraped into the top hundred of National Voice? Tonight, I’ll show you how to sing, free of charge.”

His voice was low, only loud enough for Cheng Jie to hear.

Chen Fang wasn’t foolish.

Cheng Jie had deliberately waited here, perhaps hoping to provoke him into an outburst, so someone could film it and post it online.

Child’s play!

When Chen Fang was working these tricks, Cheng Jie was still in the womb.

“You—” Cheng Jie was so angry he nearly lashed out.

He’d always considered making the top hundred of National Voice an honor, and being dismissed as a nobody cut deep.

He nearly lost control, but then something occurred to him and he forced himself to calm down.

Chen Fang brushed past him—a trainee so insignificant that Chen Fang wouldn’t even remember his name tomorrow.

Watching Chen Fang’s retreating figure, Cheng Jie’s handsome features twisted with gloom and frustration.

“I won’t lose!”

“With Dong Ke’s arrangement, Mo Di’s piano, my fans and the hired support, there’s no way I can lose!”

“It’s laughable that I let some nobody’s words get to me.”

A sneer curled his lips.

Getting angry over Chen Fang wasn’t worth it.

...

Dressed in a denim jacket, Chen Fang stepped onto the stage.

His outfit looked casual, but in reality, it was a deliberate choice.

The audience erupted in cheers, but compared to the fervor for Cheng Jie, it was lackluster.

Most of the audience were Cheng Jie’s fans, so as soon as Chen Fang appeared, they couldn’t help but begin disparaging him from every angle.

“So sloppy—clearly not taking this seriously.”

“He doesn’t care about the competition!”

“Well, he is handsome, though.”

“I suppose so, but he’s still not as good as our idol.”

“Are Cheng Jie’s fans blind? He’s way more handsome—two Cheng Jies together can’t match one Chen Fang.”

“Go, Chen Fang!”

“We’re rooting for you!!”

There weren’t many supporting voices, but Chen Fang could still faintly hear the cheers.

At the judges’ table sat three familiar faces and one new one.

The other three, having already witnessed Chen Fang’s sharp tongue, were much more restrained this time, showing little emotion.

The new judge, Guo Ping, who had replaced Ke Min, regarded Chen Fang with curiosity—after all, he’d caused quite a stir in the first round. But she bore him no ill will, only genuine interest.

“Chen Fang, we meet again,” Cheng Wenjian greeted him with a smile.

Chen Fang remembered him—the middle-aged man who’d initially looked down on him for being a street performer.

He bowed slightly, smiling with confidence. “Yes, here we are again. To be honest, I thought I’d be eliminated after the first round.”

An awkward silence fell.

Cheng Wenjian coughed a few times.

“Chen Fang is the best!” Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the front row.

Pang Tong was waving a glow stick he’d somehow acquired, his body jiggling with excitement.

“What instrument do you need today?” Cheng Wenjian asked.

He’d learned his lesson—not to mock Chen Fang before he performed.

Chen Fang lifted his guitar. “This will do.”

The four judges nodded.

“What song will you sing today?” Guo Ping jumped in.

She hoped he’d perform an original—musicians always want to see new talent and creativity.

On this point, Guo Ping was far superior to Ke Min.

“‘Rice Fragrance.’ Still one of my own songs.”

If Chen Fang were to present a song like ‘Rice Fragrance,’ how would you respond?