Being a gigolo was too much for him, so he had to become a music superstar.

"People like me who are lost, people like me who are searching."

"Someone as mediocre as me—"

How many other people have you met?

The second chorus.

The melody is the same as the first time, without any changes. There's no key shift, no acceleration, and no dramatic emotional ups and downs.

It's just sung in a flat, even way. Line by line, laid out there.

But it was precisely this ordinariness that made the entire stage sink.

"A lonely person like me, a fool like me."

"Someone like me who refuses to be ordinary—"

How many people are there in the world?

Xue Xinghe leaned forward.

He heard it. He heard the difference between this song and "Sorrow".

"Sorrow" is a perspective gained from a high vantage point, a clarity born from the vicissitudes of life.

"People Like Me" is about people squatting on the ground looking up, people who are still struggling in the mud, accepting their fate while also being defiant.

These two songs together present a complete picture of a person.

Xue Xinghe clenched his fist. He had used his special recommendation to protect this person, betting on this very thing—this person possessed something. Not technique, not talent, but something that could leave people speechless for a long time after listening to their music.

Now he knows he made the right bet.

The last paragraph.

"People like me who are lost, people like me who are searching."

"How many people like me, who have accomplished nothing, have you seen?"

"A lonely person like me, a fool like me."

"How many people in the world are like me, unwilling to be ordinary?"

Lin Buyi's voice grew softer and softer in these few sentences. He was deliberately trying to tone down his voice.

Turn the volume down to the minimum.

It was received at the level of someone talking to themselves.

Then, the last sentence.

"Someone as inexplicable as me—"

He paused for a moment.

"Will anyone feel sorry for me?"

Guitar recording.

The right hand gently presses down on the strings.

Stopped.

The entire studio, with two thousand people, remained completely still.

The silence lasted for about three seconds.

Then applause erupted.

Everyone started clapping at the same time. Some people stood up, some wiped away tears while clapping, and some shouted something but were drowned out by the applause.

Lin Buyi sat in the center of the stage, his hands on the guitar, listening to the sounds.

His chest heaved violently. After finishing the song, he felt completely drained and somewhat exhausted.

He did the math in his head—technically, he was definitely inferior to Zhou Qian, Li Ang, and even Wang Ke. But after the song was finished, the audience's reaction at least proved one thing: his song could resonate with people.

Hitting someone is enough.

He doesn't need to win against Zhou Qian. He just needs to survive.

The applause gradually subsided.

Fang Yizhou picked up the microphone.

He looked at Lin Buyi for a long time. His perspective didn't seem like the routine of a judge looking at a contestant; it was more like an old musician looking at something that puzzled him.

Then he spoke.

"Lin Buyi"

"Teacher Fang."

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty-one."

Fang Yizhou nodded. "Twenty-one."

He put the microphone to his mouth, but didn't speak immediately. He paused for two seconds, composing himself.

"I'll say something that might not be pleasant to hear."

The scene was quiet.

"Your skills—" Fang Yizhou paused, glancing at the direction Zhou Qian had descended the stage, "are nothing compared to Zhou Qian's."

Someone in the audience gasped.

That was a very blunt statement. Although everyone knew it was true, it carried a different weight when said by Fang Yizhou to his face.

Lin Buyi's expression remained unchanged. He nodded: "I know."

Fang Yizhou stared at him for a second, then continued, "But your song scares me."

The atmosphere changed when the word "fear" came out of Fang Yizhou's mouth.

Whispers began to circulate among the audience. Deng Ziheng and Zhou Wanting also looked at Fang Yizhou at the same time.

Fang Yizhou ignored the reactions around him and continued speaking.

"Last time you sang 'Sorrow,' and I said it was the best song I heard that day. Today you brought out this song, 'A Person Like Me.' Putting these two songs together confirmed one thing for me—your understanding of music is beyond what an ordinary person should have."

He paused for a moment.

"A person can write a good song by luck. But two? Different styles, different emotions, different structures, but each one can accurately hit the emotional pain points of the masses—that's not luck. That's ability."

Fang Yizhou put down the microphone and leaned back.

"What I'm afraid of is that if someone like you hadn't participated in this competition, these songs would never have been heard. How many Lin Buyi's are there in this world who write great songs but can't get them sung? Thinking about this scares me."

The audience erupted in applause once again.

Xue Xinghe stood up abruptly.

He walked around from behind the mentors' seats and went to the microphone in front of the stage.

"Let me translate what Teacher Fang means—you are a monster in the guise of an ordinary person."

The audience laughed. But Xue Xinghe's expression was very serious.

"I'll say it again. Protecting you in the preliminary rounds was the best decision I've ever made. After today, I'm even more certain. You're not here to compete; you're here to change the rules."

He pointed at Fang Yizhou, then at himself.

"Are two judges endorsing you enough?"

The audience erupted in cheers.

Zhou Wanting raised the microphone, took a moment to calm her breathing, and finally gave her evaluation: "This is the second time I've been moved to tears by your singing on this stage, Lin Buyi. You are the most talented new lyricist I've ever seen. Although your vocal skills are still inferior to other contestants, your lyrics make up for that shortcoming."

Deng Ziheng spoke last. In the previous round, he only said "Practice hard," but in this round he said a few more words.

"I won't repeat your technical issues; Teacher Fang put it more directly than I did. I'll just say one thing—your songs are more valuable than you as a person. Protect your songwriting ability; don't let it die out."

Lin Buyi stood up and slung his guitar over his shoulder.

He faced the four mentors and bowed deeply.

Thank you, teachers.

His voice was steady. But only he knew that the hand holding the guitar neck was covered in cold, sweaty sweat.

As he turned to walk off the stage, he caught a glimpse of the media section out of the corner of his eye.

The flashbulbs went crazy.

The sound of camera shutters rang out, and the reporters' mouths were all moving, but Lin Buyi couldn't hear what they were shouting.

As he walked into the backstage corridor, he saw Zhou Qian coming towards him.

Zhou Qian leaned against the wall of the corridor, her hands in her pockets, her gaze fixed directly on Lin Buyi.

The two stared at each other for less than two seconds in the corridor.

Zhou Qian's lips moved slightly.

Lin Buyi thought he was going to say something. But he didn't.