Chapter Three: The Trump Card! Silence Falls Over the Entire Arena

Everyone was eager to hear the sound of the horsehead fiddle, but Chen Fang simply held the instrument in his arms, showing no intention of playing it.

At the judges’ table, Ke Min had regained some confidence, a scornful smile crossing her lips. “As expected, he's useless. He probably doesn't even know how to play the instrument he’s holding. He’s just putting on a show. Ridiculous.”

The other judges remained silent.

For a song, the prelude is crucial. And the prelude relies on the cooperation of various instruments.

Thus, the importance of instruments cannot be overstated.

To hold an instrument but not use it already set a low ceiling for this performance.

“This kid just lacks experience,” another judge murmured.

The audience soon began to boo. After all that fuss, he still intended to sing a cappella.

“Why pretend if you can’t play it?!”

“I thought Ke Min was being too harsh earlier, but now I think this guy just wants attention.”

“If his singing isn’t good, I’ll start criticizing him right away!”

“What a waste of time.”

“It’s been an entire day, and not a single good performance. If I were Ke Min, I’d be furious.”

“Get off the stage!”

“Step down!!”

A chorus of derision and sighs.

Chen Fang ignored it all. Perhaps influenced by memories left by the body’s original owner, he slid effortlessly into his role, paying no mind to the world around him.

A few seconds later, Chen Fang’s deep, slightly husky voice filled the air.

Let me see you again
From south to north
As if my eyes were blindfolded by the Fifth Ring Road
Please tell me once more
About that day
The girl holding the box
And the man wiping his sweat

Folk music has three themes: longing, ideals, and emotion.

And those who listen to folk songs are of three kinds: lonely, ordinary, and lost.

Once, Chen Fang didn’t care for folk music, dismissing it as pointless lamentation. But now, he felt the decadence within it—a kind of addictive nourishment for the soul.

No need for dazzling technique.

No need for raucous passion.

Simplicity is purity.

His gaze unfocused, Chen Fang remembered moments from his life on Earth. For Song Fatty, Anhe Bridge was the home of his childhood; for Chen Fang, where was his own home?

Backstage, Pang Tong was stunned.

He knew Chen Fang too well.

Precisely because he knew him, he was shocked. Chen Fang had never sung with emotion before—his performances always felt dry. Yet in this song, the atmosphere was overwhelming.

Even though Pang Tong was not by his side, he felt enveloped by Chen Fang’s thick aura of melancholy.

In that instant,

Pang Tong felt the urge to cry.

Why...

Why did he feel a sense of regret?

Soon, the four judges’ indifferent expressions faded. One by one, they sat upright.

“This song...” one judge said in surprise.

Honestly,

When they saw Chen Fang singing a cappella, they’d stopped taking him seriously.

But his voice, saturated with loneliness, drew them in despite themselves.

This song... had something special!

Chen Fang’s deep voice and the song’s basic melody matched perfectly. The empty prelude gave his voice space to shine, without overwhelming the song’s purity or diluting its sense of desolation.

The other three judges frowned thoughtfully, silent.

And Ke Min, who had previously mocked Chen Fang, now looked grim, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

The thousand-strong audience, too, fell silent. They didn’t understand the finer points of music, but simply found the song moving.

“This is actually pretty good.”

“It’s got a certain feel.”

“He sings with such desolate loneliness, it almost makes me want to cry.”

“I admit, I underestimated this Chen Fang.”

“Not a word of regret, and yet every line is filled with it.”

“This is the level of a street performer?!”

Both the live and online audiences began to doubt: Was a street singer capable of such a performance?

Backstage at the auditions, a staff member shouted excitedly, “Sister Ji, the online viewers have surpassed three hundred thousand!”

Sister Ji watched the viewer count rise, her face equally radiant with excitement.

It proved one thing.

She’d made the right decision!

“Chen Fang might be a bit willful, but he does have skill,” Sister Ji’s eyes sparkled.

Such a promising newcomer was perfect for grooming.

Who knew—he might become a real talent.

“Sister Ji, should we let him finish the song? I noticed Ke Min doesn’t look too pleased,” a staffer asked.

They had to consider the judges’ feelings, after all, since Ke Min had some standing in the industry.

Sister Ji scoffed, “Nonsense! Of course he needs to finish.”

On the first day of auditions, online viewership was only strong in the morning; afterward, it declined steadily. Before Chen Fang took the stage, viewership was about to dip below one hundred thousand.

Thanks to Chen Fang, it had jumped by two hundred thousand.

Only a fool would stop him now!

He had to finish his song!!!

As for Ke Min,

Sister Ji had never liked her.

She was always throwing tantrums at the staff, acting like a superstar. To see someone finally put her in her place was a welcome sight.

In their earpieces, staff informed the four judges: Chen Fang must be allowed to finish.

Hearing this,

Ke Min’s face grew so dark it seemed to drip with gloom.

Letting Chen Fang finish wasn’t just a slap in the face—it was grinding her face into the floor.

But at this moment, she couldn’t object, because Chen Fang truly was impressive. Interrupting him now would not only offend the producers but also provoke the audience, both in the hall and online.

Sister Ji gazed at Chen Fang on stage, his desolate, melancholy expression stirring sympathy. “That face is lethal—who knows how many girls will fall for him?”

“A street performer composing such a song—digging deeper, repackaging it, there’s hype, there’s a story, and maybe even more surprises!”

I know those summers
Are gone like youth, never to return
What replaces dreams is only a reluctant compromise
I know the boasts we made
Will fade with our youth and laughter
Let me be trapped in this city
To remember you

This was the chorus. The emotion didn’t soar, but Chen Fang lifted his head, no longer gazing at the horsehead fiddle in his arms, but looking into the distance beyond the stage.

Everyone has regrets.

Chen Fang was no exception.

But the past is the past.

Time is ruthless.

It grinds away all dreams and sharp edges.

How wonderful it felt to sing.

At the very least,

In this moment, Chen Fang remembered his original aspiration as a young artist.

This body loved to sing, and so did Chen Fang. It was reality that had forced him to set aside his dreams and focus on making money.

His eyes lost focus, not settling on anything, as if he were looking through a crowded world and seeing another version of himself. A new sense of acceptance softly emerged on his face.

This had nothing to do with the system.

This came from Chen Fang himself.

From the heart of this world’s Chen Fang.

The entire venue was silent.

Only Chen Fang’s hoarse, heartfelt singing remained.

Let me hear once more
The most beautiful words
You’re home now
I’ve been waiting for you

As the song gently drew to a close, before the audience’s emotions could settle, Chen Fang picked up the bow, his wrist snapping into motion.

With his mastery of all instruments, Chen Fang’s bowing showed no hesitation, as if he’d played the horsehead fiddle for decades. His movements and expression were fluid and natural.

In an instant, the melody of the horsehead fiddle soared through the hall, piercing every barrier, striking the ear with such force that every person shivered, goosebumps rising all over.

Except for Ke Min, the other three judges stood up at once, their eyes fixed on the horsehead fiddle.

This instrument—

An absolute trump card!

This passage of music pressed the entire hall, the entire livestream audience, into profound silence.