Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

Pengcheng TV Studio Building.

The set design for "Deep Dialogue" is very simple.

Two chairs, a glass coffee table, and a huge LED screen behind them.

The host, Fang Zhiqing, sat on the left, looking down as she flipped through the information cards in her hand.

She was in her early forties, with neat, short hair that reached her ears, and a scrutinizing gaze behind her black-rimmed glasses.

As a leading lady of Pengcheng TV, she is known for her incisive interviewing style, earning her the nickname "human lie detector" among industry insiders.

Ten minutes before the broadcast, she received the final version of the interview outline prepared by the production team.

He glanced at it twice and then tossed the few pages of cards back to the director behind him.

"It's too soft. The audience doesn't want to hear PR talk."

She pulled out her pen and scribbled a few questions on a blank card.

Each one of them directly targets Jiang Fan's current Achilles' heel.

At 8:00 PM sharp, the live broadcast signal was connected to the entire network.

Jiang Fan walked from the side curtain into the spotlight.

No elaborate makeup, just a simple white T-shirt and black cargo pants.

He sat down in the chair on the right.

Fang Zhiqing gave the main camera a professional smile.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the special program of 'In-Depth Dialogue'. Our guest today is one of the most controversial figures on the internet these past two days."

She turned to look at Jiang Fan, her gaze instantly sharpening.

"Jiang Fan, welcome."

"Hello, Sister Fang." Jiang Fan nodded.

"Let's start with the rules." Fang Zhiqin crossed her legs. "This is a live broadcast, no editing, no post-production. You answer whatever I ask. You can refuse to answer, but you absolutely cannot lie."

"no problem."

"Let's begin."

Fang Zhiqing glanced down at her cue card.

Jiang Fan, 20 years old. Former security guard at EE-Media. Contestant on the "Rising Star" talent show's solo track. Founder of Fanyin Culture Studio.

Fang Zhiqing put down the data card.

"This resume seems almost unbelievable for any newcomer in the entertainment industry."

Jiang Fan leaned back in his chair and adjusted to a comfortable position.

"Not bad. It looks better than the resume I submitted six months ago when I applied for a restaurant waiter position."

Several stagehands responsible for lighting couldn't help but chuckle.

The tense atmosphere eased slightly.

But Fang Zhiqing did not laugh.

She pulled a photo from the bottom of the folder, placed it on the glass coffee table, and pushed it in front of Jiang Fan.

It was the security guard uniform photo that Sheng Hai Capital circulated across the internet.

"First question. Is that you in this photo?"

The live stream chat exploded with comments.

Everyone assumed Jiang Fan would say it was a still from a movie, or make up some other excuse.

"it's me."

Without hesitation, Jiang Fan didn't even bother to come up with an excuse.

Fang Zhiqing's eyelid twitched.

She has been in the industry for over a decade and has interviewed hundreds of celebrities.

When faced with their dark past, people's first reaction is either to avoid it or to explain it.

Jiang Fan was the first to directly claim it.

"Night shift security guard at Tianyu Media. Monthly salary of 3,200 yuan." Jiang Fan's tone was indifferent, as if he were talking about someone else.

"In this photo, you're hunched over, your eyes are vacant, and you look terrible," Fang Zhiqing pressed on.

"I had just finished a twelve-hour night shift that day, and no one's eyes would light up."

Fang Zhiqing nodded and took back the photo.

"Second question. You have no music education background, you haven't attended a music academy, and you haven't studied under any famous teachers. Sheng Hai Entertainment clearly stated in its statement that the source of your songs is questionable. How do you explain this?"

The number of viewers across all major live streaming platforms exceeded 20 million at this moment.

Countless eyes were fixed on the screen, awaiting the answer that could decide life or death.

In the backstage dressing room, Li Cheng gripped his cigarette tightly, his palms sweating profusely.

On the top floor of Sheng Hai Entertainment in Shanghai, Cao Qiming held a glass of red wine, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Jiang Fan remained silent for three seconds.

I grew up in an orphanage.

He looked at the red light on the camera in front of him.

"On the desk of the director of the welfare home, there is an old-fashioned radio."

"I started listening when I was six years old. I listened to everything. Pop, classical, opera, folk. If I didn't understand something, I would listen to it over and over again until I could hum along."

Jiang Fan's gaze did not waver in the slightest.

"I have no teachers, no academic qualifications, and no connections. Everything Sheng Hai wrote in his statement is true."

He paused for a moment, and his voice became somber.

"But they missed one thing."

Fang Zhiqing instinctively asked, "What is it?"

"Even the poor have ears."

Jiang Fan looked directly into Fang Zhiqing's eyes.

"Can't security guards listen to music after work? Can't hum tunes? Can't they think of a melody while patrolling the parking garage?"

The studio fell into dead silence.

Two seconds later, the live stream chat exploded, with dense text instantly flooding the screen.

"My defenses are broken! Damn it!"

"The poor have ears too. I'll remember that for the rest of my life!"

"How could someone with Sheng Hai's high and mighty capital possibly understand the lives of people at the bottom of society?"

"A security guard who grew up in an orphanage wrote 'Blue and White Porcelain'... I wouldn't believe it if it were anyone else, but looking into his eyes, I believed it."

Shanghai. Cao Qiming's wine glass swayed suddenly, spilling the bright red wine onto the expensive carpet.

Fang Zhiqing took a deep breath and steadied her breathing.

She realized that the pace of the show was completely controlled by the twenty-year-old in front of her.

"One last question."

Fang Zhiqing leaned forward, unleashing her final killing move.

"And this is the question all the viewers are most concerned about. Were all the songs you sang on 'The Rising Star' really written by yourself?"

"All of them."

"Didn't anyone polish a single lyric or revise a single note for you?"

"no."

Fang Zhiqing stared at him for a full five seconds.

"Jiang Fan, you know that 99% of people won't believe this. Even geniuses need a growth trajectory, and your sudden emergence defies common sense."

"I know," Jiang Fan nodded, "that's why I'm sitting here today."

Fang Zhiqing was stunned: "What do you mean?"

"I can write one on the spot."

"On the spot?" Fang Zhiqing's voice suddenly rose.

"Yes. You decide on the theme."

The studio fell completely silent.

All the staff gasped.

Live songwriting?

Fang Zhiqing turned around and looked at the one-way glass of the control room.

The director's urgent roar came through the in-ear monitor: "Let him on! That grand piano on the right side of the stage is ready! Quick! The ratings are breaking records!"

Fang Zhiqing turned around and raised her cue card towards the camera.

"Dear viewers, the following segment is something I was completely unaware of before the broadcast. Jiang Fan himself proposed to compose a song on the spot. I will decide the theme."

She put down her card and turned to look at Jiang Fan.

My brain is working at lightning speed.

We can't ask overused, generic questions about love, nor can we ask overly vague questions about dreams.

It should be able to test true talent and ability, and it should be able to resonate with society.

Fang Zhiqing remained silent for ten seconds.

"Yesterday afternoon," Fang Zhiqing began slowly, "a fire broke out at a chemical plant in Nanshan District, Shenzhen. A 23-year-old firefighter rushed into the fire to rescue the last two trapped workers."

"He left the breathing masks for the workers."

He himself never came out again.

Fang Zhiqing looked at Jiang Fan.

"How about writing a song about him? Is that alright?"

When this question was asked, there was a brief pause in the live stream chat.

too difficult.

This kind of main theme is interwoven with tragic themes, and many veteran songwriters might not be able to write a good piece even after a month of hard work.

Not to mention improvisation on the spot?

Backstage, Li Cheng crushed the cigarette pack in his hand, veins bulging on his forehead.

"This woman is insane!" Li Cheng gritted his teeth.

Jiang Fan remained silent.

He stood up and walked straight to the black grand piano in the shadows on the right side of the stage.

The spotlight followed his footsteps.

Jiang Fan sat down on the piano bench.

He closed his eyes and made a thought.

A semi-transparent virtual panel appeared on his retina.

The system shop is now open.

Search keywords: hero, nameless

Match successful: The Lone Warrior

[Exchange Price: 200 Life Points]

Jiang Fan then turned his attention to the master-level piano, gritted his teeth, and exchanged it directly.

A total of 5200 lifespan points were deducted.

[Remaining lifespan: 4800 points.]

A vast amount of muscle memory and music theory knowledge was instantly flooded into the brain.

The whole process was very quiet; no one in the entire studio spoke, and no one dared to make a sound.

Ten minutes later, Jiang Fan opened his eyes, his ten fingers naturally bent and rested on the black and white piano keys, pressing the first note.

The deep sound of a piano filled the studio.

The pace was extremely slow, carrying a sense of heaviness, like walking alone in the dark.

Jiang Fan approached the microphone on the piano stand.

"They are all brave."

"The wound on your forehead, your differences, the mistakes you made."

His voice was hoarse, and he didn't show off his skills or hit high notes.

Fang Zhiqing sat on the sofa, her back instantly straightening.

The moment those words came out, the face of the 23-year-old firefighter, covered in cigarette ash and blood, flashed directly into her mind.

There's no need to hide anything.

"Your worn-out doll, your mask, your ego."

The chat window's comment refresh rate slowed down.

On the screens of 20 million online viewers, large blank areas appeared.

"They said we should carry the light and tame every monster."

"They say, stitch up your wounds, nobody loves a clown."

Jiang Fan's fingers traced the piano keys, and he began to press the keys harder.

The tempo gradually quickens, and suppressed emotions accumulate within the instrument's soundbox.

"Why is loneliness not glorious?"

"It is only human imperfection that is worthy of praise."

Jiang Fan raised his head and looked directly at the camera lens in front of him.

"Who says someone covered in mud isn't a hero?"

As she uttered the last sentence, Fang Zhiqing took off her black-rimmed glasses, her eyes completely red.

The piano music suddenly rose in pitch.

The chords crashed down, tearing apart the dull piano sound.

"I love you, even if I walk alone through dark alleys!"

"I love the way you refuse to kneel!"

"Loving you has faced despair!"

"She refuses to even have a good cry!"

The high notes were explosive.

The LED screen in the studio switched to yesterday's fire report—

A firefighter removes his breathing mask and hands it to a worker in profile.

A silhouette walking deeper into the distance against the firelight.

He never came out again.

Shanghai, the top floor of Sheng Hai Entertainment.

The broken wine glass in Cao Qiming's hand fell to the ground and shattered with a crash.

Jiang Fan's performance continued.

"I love your tattered clothes!"

"Yet they dare to block fate's gun!"

"Loving you is so much like me, even our flaws are the same!"

The live stream chat remained silent for a full fifteen seconds.

Then, the screen was filled with "tribute" messages covering the entire view.

Jiang Fan alternated his hands, and the music entered its final sprint.

"Go? Are you worthy? That tattered cloak!"

"War? Then fight! With the humblest of dreams!"

"To the sobs and roars in the darkness!"

Jiang Fan stood up and slammed the last chord down heavily with both hands.

"Who says only those who stand in the light are heroes!"

The lingering notes echoed in the dome of the studio.

The music stopped abruptly.

The scene was deathly silent.

The lighting technician forgot to switch the spotlight, and several cameramen stood behind the camera, wiping their eyes.

Jiang Fan left the piano and walked back to the coffee table.

He looked at Fang Zhiqing.

"Sister Fang, would you consider this rendition of 'The Lone Warrior' to be acceptable?"

Fang Zhiqing sniffed and bowed deeply to Jiang Fan.

"Thanks."

Inside the studio, Fang Zhiqing sat down again, preparing to make the final touches.

The control room door was suddenly pushed open, and the director rushed into the studio.

He was holding a tablet computer, and his voice was completely distorted.

"Teacher Fang! Don't end the broadcast! Switch to the main screen! Switch to the main screen right now!"

Fang Zhiqing turned her head away.

The huge LED screen behind me flickered, and the screen switched to the Weibo interface.

An account homepage with a blue V verification appeared before everyone's eyes.

The official Weibo account of the National Fire and Rescue Administration.

One minute ago, this official account with millions of followers forwarded the live stream link for "In-Depth Dialogue".

There were no lengthy praises; the accompanying text was just one sentence.

"Who says only those standing in the light are heroes? A salute to those who go against the tide."

Cao Qiming looked at the blue V verification on the screen, his legs went weak, and he collapsed into his office chair.