After being dumped by the diva, I was picked up by her arch-enemy.

The awards ceremony has ended.

The back-end access channels were completely blocked.

Hundreds of journalists from various countries, holding microphones and cameras, crammed the entire corridor like a tin can.

When Jiang Yichen came out of the locker room, the eight trophies had already been packed up and taken away by Su Yao and the staff.

He was only wearing that dark red trench coat, his hands in his pockets, walking at a leisurely pace.

"Mr. Jiang! May I ask where the inspiration for 'Nocturne' came from?"

"Mr. Jiang! Have you considered collaborating with SG Entertainment?"

"Mr. Jiang! Are you satisfied with your performance tonight?"

"Mr. Jiang! What are your plans for the future?"

Problems came crashing down on us.

The flashes of light created a blinding white blur in the narrow passageway.

Jiang Yichen stopped in his tracks.

He turned his head to look at the camera.

Those dark eyes, though still sharp, carried the weariness of a performance.

"Just say one sentence."

He raised his right hand and gave a thumbs-up to the camera.

"Chinese pop culture is the coolest."

The words had barely left his lips.

Six security personnel immediately squeezed in from both sides, forcefully clearing a path through the crowd.

Jiang Yichen walked away without looking back.

He left behind dozens of cameras and a corridor full of stunned journalists from various countries.

South Korean reporters looked at each other in bewilderment.

"What did he say?"

"Chinese pop culture is the coolest."

The translator's voice trembled slightly.

The corridor was silent for a full three seconds.

A cacophony of discussion then erupted.

……

The backstage lounge on the west side.

A gold plaque that read "Park Joon-hee's Exclusive" was affixed to the door.

Park Joon-hee sat on the sofa, motionless.

His silver-gray hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead.

His eyes were fixed on a stain on the opposite wall.

It was as if his soul had been ripped out.

"Bang!"

The door to the lounge was kicked open from the outside.

Manager Kim Sang-woo rushed in, sweating profusely, clutching a tablet computer in his hand. His expression could only be described as "the sky has fallen."

"Jun-hee! Something terrible has happened!"

Park Joon-hee did not move.

Kim Sang-woo slammed the tablet directly onto the coffee table in front of him.

The screen displays real-time data from after-hours trading.

SG Entertainment's stock has plummeted by 12 percent in the past 40 minutes.

The green numbers are still dropping.

"Investment institutions are selling off!" Kim Sang-woo's voice changed.

"They feel your performance tonight proves that SG's core artists lack competitiveness, and the brand premium needs to be reassessed!"

"The president has called five times already!"

Park Joon-hee finally reacted.

He slowly raised his head, and his lips moved.

"How did he do that?"

Kim Sang-woo was stunned.

"What?"

"That song." Park Joon-hee's voice was soft, carrying a sense of bewilderment after being completely defeated.

"Classical piano, cello, rap, hip-hop drum beats... putting those elements together should have been a disaster."

"But he did it."

"And it's perfect."

Kim Sang-woo opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Park Joon-hee lowered her head and covered her face with her hands.

"I've been in this industry for eight years."

Eight years.

"A Chinese man came to Seoul and smashed all my things in one night."

Kim Sang-woo felt a mix of emotions as he looked at his artist.

But he has no time to offer comfort right now.

The president is still urging us.

The stock price is still falling.

The emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning has been scheduled.

This night was a complete disaster for SG Entertainment.

……

The east side passage of the backstage area.

Jiang Yichen was getting ready to get into the nanny van.

An old voice came from behind me.

Mr. Jiang.

Jiang Yichen turned around.

Miyamoto Kawa stood three meters away.

The black kimono appeared somewhat somber under the cold lights of the corridor.

He took off his black-rimmed glasses, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes.

The arrogance and contempt that had been there before were gone from those eyes.

All that remains is pure respect.

Miyamoto Kawa took two steps forward and stopped in front of Jiang Yichen.

He took a deep breath.

Then, this over-sixty-year-old island nation's national treasure-level musician bent down.

Ninety degrees.

A standard Japanese bow.

"I was too naive."

Miyamoto Kawa spoke those words slowly and deliberately in broken Chinese.

"Your music is art."

The staff members in the corridor were all stunned.

Su Yao covered her mouth.

Jiang Yichen looked at the hunched old man in front of him and remained silent for two seconds.

He reached out and gently placed his hand on Miyamoto Kawa's shoulder.

"Mr. Miyamoto, your 'The Tragedy of Cherry Blossoms' is also very good."

There should be no prejudice among musicians.

"I look forward to future opportunities for cooperation."

Miyamoto Kawa straightened up and looked at the young man in front of him who was almost forty years younger than him.

He nodded emphatically.

Without saying anything more, he turned and left.

Jiang Yichen watched his retreating figure.

A true master can accept defeat and recognize its true nature.

This kind of person deserves respect.

The door of the nanny van was opened.

Hou Fei poked half his head out.

"Third Brother, let's go. The fans outside are blocking the road."

Jiang Yichen got on the bus.

The moment the car door closed, the outside noise was shut out into another world.

……

Twenty-four hours later.

The global internet was ignited by one name.

Jiang Yichen.

The live video of "Nocturne" swept across all major platforms like it had grown wings.

On YouTube, the official full version surpassed 100 million views within twelve hours of its release.

Twenty-four hours later, the number became 300 million.

On overseas short video platforms, countless bloggers spontaneously remake, cover, and create derivative works.

The hashtag "NIGHTPIECE" has become the number one trending topic globally.

Top Western music critics couldn't sit still any longer.

Rolling Stone magazine published a lengthy review on its website.

The title is: A young man from China has just rewritten the landscape of Asian pop music.

"Jiang Yichen's 'Nocturne' showcases an unprecedented way of musical fusion. The refinement of classical piano and the tension of street rap are not simply collages in his hands, but a chemical reaction. The production quality of this work is top-notch in any music market in the world."

Billboard posted a tweet.

"Who is JiangYichen? The whole world wants to know."

The BBC Music Channel even did a ten-minute special on it.

The host said something at the end of the program.

"Perhaps we should shift our focus from Seoul and look further east."

The most outrageous one was Jiang Yichen's overseas social media account, which he had registered long ago but had been operating discreetly.

Overnight.

The number of fans skyrocketed from three million to fifty million.

Netizens from all over the world flocked to his homepage and browsed through every single post.

Then, they discovered the treasure.

Four cross-dressing videos.

The Red-Haired Girl.

"Wujia Slope".

There are also two opera costume transformations that previously sparked discussion in the country.

The comments section went completely crazy.

"WHAT?! He can not only sing, but he can also perform Chinese opera?"

"What kind of black magic is that video of someone transforming from a woman into a general?!"

"An Eastern magician! Just how many more skills does this man possess that we don't know about?"

"I declare him the most charismatic artist on the planet, bar none."

"Chinese culture is amazing!"

The videos have collectively surpassed 100 million views.

Jiang Yichen's overseas fans spontaneously formed a translation group to translate all of his song lyrics into English, French, Spanish, Japanese, and Korean.

Chinese netizens watched all of this with a collective euphoria.

"Haha, the foreigners have finally realized how good our Jiang Shen is!"

"Cultural export! This is true cultural export!"

"If anyone ever says that Chinese music is not respectable, I'll throw this video in their face."

"Jiang Shen accomplished what the Ministry of Culture couldn't finish in ten years by himself."

……

three days later.

Beijing Capital International Airport.

Jiang Yichen and his entourage returned with honors.

The airport exit was completely surrounded by fans who came to greet them.

It took four layers of security personnel to get him into the car.

Back to the Qilin Opera Troupe.

Jiang Yichen locked himself in his studio and slept for a full fourteen hours.

When I woke up, there were more than 300 unread messages on my phone.

He did not reply.

I only sent one message to Xu Zhiyou and Gu Ruanxing's group chat.

"I'm home safely."

Xu Zhiyou replied instantly with a string of firework emojis.

Gu Ruanxing only replied with two words: "Understood."

But three seconds later, he added, "Get some rest, don't stay up late."

Jiang Yichen put down his phone.

Life returned to normal for the time being.

Five more days passed.

3 PM.

The front yard of the Qilin Opera Troupe.

Hou Fei was squatting at the doorway, eating sunflower seeds.

A black Hongqi sedan with a special license plate slowly pulled up in front of the theater.

Hou Fei dropped sunflower seed shells all over the ground.

He stared wide-eyed at the license plate number.

Holy crap.

He turned and ran to the backyard.

"Third Brother!"

Jiang Yichen was brewing tea at the stone table.

"What is it?"

"Someone's coming!" Hou Fei said in a low voice.

"Who is it?"

"Judging from the license plate, it's at least a ministerial-level vehicle."

Jiang Yichen paused for a moment, holding his teacup.

He put down the teapot, stood up, and straightened his collar.

Someone gently knocked on the wooden door to the front yard from the outside.

Steward Zhang led the group of people in.

Leading the way was a burly, middle-aged man with graying temples.

He was wearing a dark blue jacket and black cloth shoes, looking simple and unpretentious.

But the two young men behind him stood ramrod straight, their eyes gleaming, clearly having received professional training.

The middle-aged man walked to the stone table, looked at Jiang Yichen, and gave him a kind smile.

"Comrade Xiao Jiang, I've heard so much about you."

He extended his right hand.

"I am Li Jianming, Director of the State Propaganda Department."

Jiang Yichen grasped his hand.

"Hello, Director Li."

Li Jianming's hands were broad and strong; he gripped them twice before letting go.

He looked around the quaint courtyard of the opera house and nodded.

"It's a good place. It's not easy for young people to endure this peace and quiet."

Jiang Yichen pulled out the stone bench.

"Director Li, please have a seat."

Li Jianming didn't stand on ceremony and sat down generously.

Hou Fei tactfully brought over freshly brewed tea.

Li Jianming took the teacup, took a sip, and put it down.

"Comrade Xiao Jiang, I'm not here for a visit or to offer condolences."

His smile faded, and his expression became serious.

"Your performance in Seoul has been seen above."

"We've been exploring ways to promote Chinese culture abroad. But the results... well..."

He shook his head and didn't elaborate.

"You've accomplished something we haven't been able to do for many years."

Jiang Yichen listened quietly.

Li Jianming looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze, but also with an expectation.

He took a brown paper file bag from his entourage and placed it on the stone table.

"Comrade Xiao Jiang."

Li Jianming's voice was steady and powerful.

"The country has an important task for you."