Chapter Two: Singing a Song of Anhe Bridge

When Chen Fang was young, he worked as an entertainer and could play several instruments. But in the entertainment industry, surrounded by handsome men and beautiful women, his appearance was unremarkable, and he never managed to climb the ladder. So he switched to investing and, at just forty, became the owner of an entertainment company.

Gradually, Chen Fang forgot the skills he had learned as a performer. He didn’t feel any regret. As a boss, he thought it unnecessary to be multitalented himself; it was enough that his artists had various skills.

But now, in this new world, if he wanted to make a name for himself, not knowing how to play instruments simply wouldn’t do. The treasure chest had granted him “Mastery of All Instruments,” compensating for his most glaring deficiency.

As for songs, Chen Fang still remembered many legendary hits from Earth, so for now, he didn’t need to draw any from the treasure chest.

Handsome. Excellent voice. Master of instruments. No shortage of songs for the moment.

A pure, crushing advantage!

If he couldn’t become a top superstar with all this, Chen Fang wouldn’t be able to respect himself.

He patted Pang Tong on the shoulder, speaking with gravity, “Fatty, remember to record when I perform on stage. I have a feeling—it’ll look amazing.”

Pang Tong stopped making faces and slowly raised his middle finger.

How had he never realized before that Chen Fang had such a cheeky personality?

Half an hour later.

The taxi stopped.

The audition scene was crowded. May had brought a stifling heat, and the dense crowd and rolling waves of noise unsettled everyone.

Chen Fang squinted, his gaze piercing through the masses to the stage at the center of the audition. The stage was small, but the audience numbered in the thousands.

Plus, with viewers watching the live stream online, the exposure of one audition could reach hundreds of thousands, even more.

Pushing through the packed crowd, Chen Fang found the backstage area and picked up his stage number: 232.

Right then, contestant number 35 was singing on stage.

Judging by the pace, Chen Fang wouldn’t get his turn until evening.

He sifted through his mind for a long time, finally settling on a song perfect for a stage performance and with a great atmosphere.

“This song is sure to explode!”

Any song memorable enough for Chen Fang to recall was a phenomenon-level hit.

But this song required a special instrument.

The production team hadn’t prepared such an instrument, so he’d have to find one himself.

According to the rules, once contestants entered backstage, they weren’t allowed to leave midway unless they forfeited.

Helpless.

Chen Fang had to turn to Pang Tong.

“Fatty.”

“Do me a favor.”

Chen Fang put an arm around Pang Tong’s shoulder.

“Speak.”

Pang Tong wiped the sweat from his brow; the hot weather and noisy crowd were torture for someone his size.

“Go to the music store outside and find an instrument called the horse-head fiddle. I need it for my performance.”

“Alright.”

With that, Pang Tong left the backstage area.

Watching Pang Tong’s retreating figure, Chen Fang was struck by an odd feeling—like watching someone leave to buy oranges, promising to return.

Between the two, saying “thank you” would be too formal.

Having a friend like him was truly a blessing!

Six o’clock in the evening.

Pang Tong still hadn’t returned.

The horse-head fiddle was indeed obscure, but it shouldn’t be this hard to find. Could it be that this world didn’t have it?

Onstage.

Contestant number 230 bowed and stepped down.

Chen Fang’s turn was imminent.

Time ticked away.

“Contestant number 232, please get ready to take the stage,” called a staff member, checking the list.

Chen Fang glanced at the backstage corridor. Pang Tong was nowhere to be seen, nor was the instrument. Singing without accompaniment would be inferior, but he had no choice but to go ahead.

The walk to the stage was short.

But Chen Fang walked slowly.

At the moment he stepped onto the stage—

He squinted slightly; the lights were harsh.

His body surged with excitement!

This feeling was both familiar and strange, addictive.

On stage.

There was only a chair and a microphone.

Chen Fang walked to the center, bowed slightly to the four judges below.

“Good evening, judges. I am contestant number 232, Chen Fang.” He smiled confidently, not the least bit nervous.

His looks were satisfactory, and his psychological composure was impressive.

“Are you singing without accompaniment?”

One judge noted his empty hands, a hint of surprise in his tone.

With accompaniment, even a mediocre voice could be masked. Moreover, being able to play an instrument was a big plus.

Especially for auditions like this, judges rarely had patience to listen to a whole song, so any bonus points were crucial.

Chen Fang was about to explain.

Another judge spoke up.

“Are you a street singer?” The middle-aged male judge glanced at the audition materials provided by the production team, his tone tinged with disdain.

Street singers in Huaguo generally had poor standards.

Instantly, the four judges’ impression scores of Chen Fang plummeted.

The audience below grew even more restless.

“Street singers shouldn’t bother coming, can’t even get a gig at a bar, must sing terribly!”

“My ears have been abused all day, one more and I’ll go deaf.”

“Even street singers can sign up? No wonder the ratings for Starlight Path keep dropping.”

“If it weren’t for your looks, I’d have started cursing already!”

“Forget it, this is boring.”

“Seriously, such a waste of time...”

...

“Street singer, and singing without accompaniment.”

The middle-aged judge shook his head.

Chen Fang explained, “Judges, I do have accompaniment.”

“Where’s your instrument?” came a sharp female voice, full of impatience.

The woman seated at the center of the judges’ table banged on it, her temper flaring: “You say you have accompaniment, but where’s the instrument? If you haven’t prepared your props, what are you doing on stage? Wasting my time!”

Once she spoke, the other three judges fell silent.

“I’ve been listening all day, not a single performance worth hearing, all noise. My ears and brain have been polluted by you amateurs!” she berated Chen Fang, disregarding her own image.

It was as if her current manic state was entirely Chen Fang’s fault.

Chen Fang’s face darkened; he glanced at her name tag.

Ke Min.

Her face was sharp and bitter.

“The backstage didn’t have the instrument I need. I’ve already asked my friend to find one.” Chen Fang replied calmly.

Ke Min slammed the table; the judge beside her instinctively edged away.

Ke Min was notorious in the industry for her explosive temper.

One word out of place, and she’d curse.

A minor setback, and she’d lash out.

“Useless street singer like you, I don’t know why the production team even let you sign up.”

“Sings like shit, and still dares to get on stage!”

“I don’t want to waste my time on someone like you, do you understand?”

Beside her.

A judge coughed softly, murmuring, “Ms. Ke, he hasn’t even started singing yet.”

If she’d said he sang like shit after hearing him, it might make sense. But the problem was, Chen Fang hadn’t even begun.

Judging him now simply wasn’t reasonable.

“Singing? What singing!”

“Call the next number!”

Ke Min began chasing him off.

Chen Fang, furious, laughed in disbelief. In his previous life as an entertainment company boss, he’d always been the one berating others; when had it ever been the other way around?

“This is the program’s audition. From registration to taking the stage, I’ve followed every step required by the organizers. On what grounds do you chase me off?”

“With your three-inch-thick face?”

Damn it!

Call her “teacher,” and she really thinks she’s something!

Ke Min was momentarily stunned, then stood up in anger, ready to curse.

But Chen Fang gave her no chance, “You think you’re impressive? If you were, you wouldn’t be here. You’re so useless you can only judge at auditions—what gives you the right to call others useless? You’re hardly qualified.”

“I think having someone like you critique my singing is the real waste of my time and energy!”

Chen Fang didn’t flinch, firing back directly.

If need be, he wouldn’t sing at all.

With the system backing him, opportunities abounded.

The whole venue was in an uproar.

It seemed this was the first time a contestant had cursed at a judge.

“Tsk tsk, Chen Fang is brave—daring to insult Ke Min.”

“A real tough guy! First time I’ve seen a contestant curse at a judge.”

“Ke Min’s cursed so many people, but now she’s met her match.”

“Boomerang right back at her.”

“Always cursing people, now it’s her turn.”

“I actually feel a strange sense of satisfaction, hahaha.”

...

Amidst the murmurs and discussions, Ke Min’s face flushed bright red in anger. “A useless street singer, lecturing me!”

“You keep calling people useless; now that you’re judging, you’re really acting the part. Were the previous two hundred contestants also useless?” Chen Fang set a trap.

The other three judges sensed trouble and were about to intervene, but Ke Min banged the table with piercing shrieks: “You’re all useless, unfit for the stage!”

Chen Fang laughed.

Backstage.

Staff exchanged uneasy glances. One turned to the woman beside her, “Sister Ji, this is bad.”

If she’d only cursed at Chen Fang, it wouldn’t be a big deal—it could be smoothed over.

But if she insulted all previous contestants, that was another matter entirely.

“Idiot!”

Sister Ji’s face darkened, muttering under her breath.

It was her first time seeing a contestant curse at a judge; she hadn’t expected Chen Fang to be so audacious.

“I’ll have security escort Chen Fang off stage,” said a staffer.

Priority was to control the scene and look after the judges’ feelings; as for Chen Fang, he could be dealt with after being taken off stage.

Just then.

Sister Ji glanced at the real-time data, her eyes full of shock. “Wait!”

Everyone backstage turned to her.

More precisely, they looked at the real-time numbers.

They were rising!

The increase was rapid; from just over a hundred thousand viewers minutes ago, it had soared to two hundred thousand and was still climbing.

Sister Ji’s eyes flickered, her thoughts unclear, but after a few seconds she made a swift decision: “Notify the judges to let Chen Fang finish.”

Still sing?

Having offended the judges, there was no reason to continue.

Most didn’t understand.

Sister Ji looked at Chen Fang on stage, “Every minute he stays up there, the numbers go up. We serve the ratings, not the judges.”

In other words—

Chen Fang wasn’t important, nor was Ke Min.

Keeping him on stage was just to keep boosting the numbers. As for how he performed, or whether he passed, nobody cared.

At the judges’ table—

All four judges received instructions via their earpieces to let Chen Fang finish before leaving the stage.

In an instant.

The other three judges looked oddly at Ke Min.

Ke Min’s face turned liver-colored, on the verge of explosion.

The middle-aged judge coughed softly, saying, “Contestant Chen Fang, this is the stage. Let’s focus on the competition.”

“Prepare for your performance.”

Chen Fang was taken aback.

He’d been ready to curse and leave.

But then—

He realized something and sneered.

As an entertainment company boss, he easily saw through the backstage machinations.

If only he’d cursed a bit more; now, with someone intervening, any further insults would make him seem excessive.

Ke Min clenched her fists, her whole body radiating a cold, chilling aura as she sat back down, biting her lip.

“Let that suffocate you!” Chen Fang felt much better, ignored the old woman, and sat down to prepare for his song.

...

“Please, help me bring this to the stage.”

“I’m begging you.”

“My friend really needs this, please, please.”

“Thank you so much, thank you.”

Just as Chen Fang was about to start singing, he heard a commotion backstage.

He turned to look.

Pang Tong had made it back!

Sweating profusely, face flushed, Pang Tong was bowing and smiling apologetically to the backstage staff, not even stopping to wipe his brow.

After countless thanks, a staff member finally took the horse-head fiddle from Pang Tong, spoke into their headset, walked onto stage, apologized to the judges, handed the instrument to Chen Fang, and hurried off.

There was only a curtain separating stage and backstage.

Standing in the shadows, Pang Tong recorded on his phone, giving Chen Fang a thumbs-up.

Chen Fang was moved, returned the gesture.

The audience was still noisy.

But Chen Fang’s aura changed entirely—lonely, cold; the smile vanished from his lips, his gaze lowered, a melancholy air enveloping him.

“I will perform my original song, ‘Anhe Bridge’.”

...