Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

The rain in London always comes without warning.

There was no earth-shattering thunder, nor any overwhelming gale; it just drifted by so finely and densely, like a layer of indelible gray mist, softly clinging to the surface of the Thames.

"It's all about gloom, no wonder it has given rise to so many punk bands and detective novels."

Lin Yuan was wearing a faded gray hoodie with the hood pulled down low, holding a black long-handled umbrella he had casually bought at a convenience store, walking on the wet cobblestone streets of Great Britain.

There are seven days left until the next live challenge match of "Eternal Voice".

No announcements, no interviews. For Lin Yuan, who was used to working non-stop amidst cameras, audio tracks, and scripts, these seven days were like a stolen vacation from heaven.

As for the "super genius of the Western music scene challenging the champion" that has already caused a huge stir online and even led to betting odds being offered by bookmakers...

Lin Yuan suggested: "Why don't we first figure out what to have for lunch today?"

As a world-renowned "culinary desert," Britain's position in the food world has always been very stable and unshakable.

Lin Yuan stood under an umbrella in front of a century-old fish and chips shop near Covent Garden. The shop was small, and the air was filled with a strong aroma of fried food and vinegar.

"One large cod with chips, please. And... green peas?" Lin Yuan said in perfect London accent.

The elderly shop assistant behind the counter was a middle-aged man with two extremely gentlemanly mustaches. He handed over a paper package wrapped in thick newspaper (actually food-grade greaseproof paper printed with newspaper patterns).

"Would you like some vinegar and salt, young man?" the older man asked warmly.

"Add more malt vinegar."

Five minutes later, Lin Yuan sat under the sunshade of a bench on the street corner, holding a plate of steaming hot fish and chips in his hands.

He picked up a large, chunky French fry and put it in his mouth.

Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, with an irresistible aroma of potatoes, the tang of malt vinegar perfectly balances the richness of the fried food. Then, cut a piece of golden, crispy fried cod; the flesh is firm yet tender, bursting with juice in your mouth.

"Who says Britain is only about stargazing?" Lin Yuan squinted his eyes in satisfaction. "As long as the standards are lowered enough, fish and chips can actually get an 8 out of 10. The remaining 2 points are deducted because—this mung bean paste really looks like green mud."

Just as Lin Yuan was happily munching on rice while complaining, a loud saxophone sound suddenly came from the street corner.

An elderly British man, wearing a red plaid kilt and Doc Martens, was standing in the rain, playing jazz with complete absorption. The music was a mess, with a completely nonsensical rhythm, but the old man was so engrossed in his own world that he closed his eyes in rapture.

British passersby stopped to watch, and not only did no one show any disgust, but several gentlemen in suits even nodded and swayed with their coffee, before elegantly dropping a pound into the violin case.

Lin Yuan watched with great interest.

This is the most fascinating aspect of British culture: a kind of "laid-back elegance" that blends dry humor, absolute tolerance, and inexplicable self-confidence.

For the next three hours, Lin Yuan perfectly immersed himself in the atmosphere.

He spent the afternoon looking at stones in the British Museum, fed pigeons in Trafalgar Square (and almost got pooped on by them), and finally bought a deerstalker hat that looked like it was worn by Sherlock Holmes in the 19th century at a vintage store.

Lin Yuan pulled his hat down over his head, put on his sunglasses, and looked at himself through the glass window.

Hmm, very detective-like. It would be perfect if he wasn't holding half a half-eaten beef pie.

While Lin Yuan was leisurely munching on a pie and experiencing the British carbon bomb on the streets of London, on the other side of the Atlantic, in a top-notch recording studio in Los Angeles, the atmosphere was as serious as a nuclear missile silo.

"That's not vocal music! That's just a mechanical outburst after suppressing emotions to the limit!"

With a loud bang, the blond, blue-eyed young man slammed the headphones onto the control panel.

Gabriel Williams.

The most dazzling "phenomenal genius" in the European and American music scene in the past three years. At the age of 22, he swept three Grammy Awards. He mainly plays heavy industrial rock and progressive metal and is known for his extremely powerful vocals, exaggerated style, and eccentric personality that never compromises with commercialism.

He is the absolute protagonist who will be challenging "Eternal Voice" in seven days.

At that moment, Gabriel was staring intently at the live video of Lin Yuan singing "NUMB" on the screen.

"Gabe, you've watched this video seventeen times already," his manager said helplessly, rubbing his temples. "He's currently the hottest musician in China; even Arthur from Penguin Random House calls him an 'Oriental Miracle.' The company actually hopes your trip to challenge them will focus more on 'exchange'..."

"Exchange? To hell with exchange!" Gabriel rudely interrupted the agent.

He grabbed the microphone, his eyes flashing with an almost frenzied fighting spirit.

"What does that old man Arthur know about music? He only knows how to sell books! As for 'NUMB'..." Gabriel licked his chapped lips, his voice lowering, "I have to admit, this guy named Lin Yuan is a genius. His lyrics, his arrangements, the deathly oppressive aura he exudes on stage... it's just damn captivating."

The agent was stunned: "You approve of him?"

"Of course I agree with him! But I'd rather tear him to pieces!" Gabriel revealed a fierce smile, his eyes filled with the excitement of a hunter seeing his top prey.

"He tore the audience apart with his bass and emotion in the last performance because those so-called masters simply don't understand what true 'musical tyranny' is. Does he think there's no one left in the Western music scene? Does he think he can become a god on 'Eternal Sound' with just an emo rap?"

Gabriel walked up to the piano, stepped on the pedal, and slammed his hands down on the keys to create an extremely heavy, heavy metal chord!

The explosive sound waves echoed throughout the recording studio.

"One week later, in the London studio." Gabriel looked up, flashing a bright white smile. "I'm going to use the purest rock 'n' roll spirit to completely shatter his emotional defenses. I'm going to show him what a real vocal fortress is!"

In Gabriel's eyes, Lin Yuan was not an invincible god, but an extremely dangerous, extremely fascinating, and ultimate target worthy of his utmost effort.

He didn't come to this match to "exchange ideas"; he came to start a war.

However, Gabriel, who was far away in Los Angeles, poised to strike and regarding Lin Yuan as the ultimate villain, could never have imagined—

The "ultimate boss" he was referring to was currently huddled in a corner of a century-old, run-down pub in London's Soho district, fighting with a few elderly British men for a free plate of fried peanuts.

The bar is called "The Old Duke," and the air is filled with the mixed smells of dark beer, rye bread, and damp wood.

In the center of the bar was a tiny stage with a dilapidated upright piano on it, the keys of which were yellowed and blackened.

"Hey Alex! Play a tune! You can't drink your tenth stout of the day if you don't play!" The bar owner, a fat man with a big beard, shouted loudly across the bar.

An old man named Alex, a drunkard, staggered onto the stage, pressed a few out-of-tune keys, and played an extremely cheerful traditional English folk song. Dozens of patrons in the bar immediately raised their beer glasses and joined in a chaotic, uproarious sing-along, their laughter nearly lifting the roof off.

This pure musical atmosphere, devoid of any utilitarianism or competition, brought Lin Yuan a long-lost sense of relaxation.

He sat in the corner, sipping his dark beer and jotting down inspirational notes on a tissue with his pen.

Suddenly, the old drunkard Alex misplayed a long note, and the piece stopped abruptly. The old man awkwardly touched his bald head: "Oh dear, I'm getting old, my knuckles are frozen."

A burst of good-natured laughter erupted from the audience.

"Hey, you handsome Eastern guy over there!" The bar owner's eyes lit up when he spotted Lin Yuan, who was wearing a deerstalker hat and had a unique air about him. "I've seen you sitting here all afternoon, drawing musical notation with your hands. Want to come up and play a game? If you play well, your dark beer is free tonight!"

The guests turned around and started cheering and clapping.

In British pub culture, this kind of invitation is a very common form of socializing.

Lin Yuan smiled and did not refuse. He adjusted his hat, stood up, and walked onto the narrow wooden stage.

He sat down at the old upright piano, his fingers gently tracing the yellowed keys.

"Free dark beer? Then I can't be polite," Lin Yuan said with a smile in English.

A burst of laughter erupted in the bar.

The next second, Lin Yuan's finger fell.

On this drizzly London night, in an old pub filled with the aroma of beer, he played an extremely upbeat tune with a strong British country rock style.

The sound of the zither was crisp and bright, like the cheerful tinkling of raindrops falling on a stone pavement.

As the rhythm progressed, Lin Yuan began to sing softly. There were no lyrics, only extremely comfortable humming, accompanied by a light and rhythmic cadence.

The once noisy bar fell silent instantly.

Everyone's eyes widened.

This old piano, which usually had a muffled sound and was even a bit out of tune, produced an indescribable retro vibrancy and liveliness under Lin Yuan's hands!

Old drunkard Alex's glass froze in mid-air, his mouth agape. "What... what kind of rhythm is this? Good heavens, his left hand is doing stride jazz accompaniment, while his right hand is playing country rock choreography?!"

The bar owner even loosened the cloth used to wipe the glasses.

Lin Yuan's singing became more and more relaxed. Even at the climax of the melody, he raised his right hand and tapped the wooden surface of the piano with his knuckles in a very rhythmic manner!

"Tap, tap-tap, tap!"

Perfect physics-based percussion has been added!

The atmosphere in the entire bar was instantly ignited!

"Cool!"

"Holy crap! This rhythm is so catchy!"

Several young British girls couldn't help but tap their feet to the beat of the piano, and the drunks around them spontaneously started tapping their beer mugs on the table to keep the rhythm for Lin Yuan.

What was originally just an ordinary rainy night bar was transformed into a frenzied private music party by Lin Yuan using a broken piano in just two minutes!

The song ended.

Lin Yuan pressed the last perfect chord, raised his right hand with a flourish, and bowed slightly to the audience.

"Boom!"

Thunderous applause and screams erupted in the bar!

"One more song! Dude! One more song!"

"God, are you a professor who snuck out of the Royal Academy of Music?!"

"Boss! Get him the biggest glass! I'll cover this gentleman's drinks tonight!"

The bar owner jogged over, carrying a mug of draft beer, his eyes full of admiration: "Young man, you're a genius! What's your name? Are you an independent musician performing in London?"

Lin Yuan took the beer, blinked, and gave an innocent smile:

"No, I'm just a tourist passing by, here for fish and chips."

After saying that, amidst a burst of good-natured laughter from the crowd, Lin Yuan took a big gulp of beer, wiped his mouth, and casually put on his deerstalker hat, then disappeared into the London night and drizzle under his umbrella.

Late at night.

Lin Yuan returned to the hotel room arranged by the production team.

After taking a shower, he leaned back on the sofa and turned on his phone.

The encrypted family group chat was already buzzing with messages.

Gu Zhiwan: [Image] (Posted a photo of Lin Yuan wearing a deerstalker hat being attacked by pigeons in Trafalgar Square) "I heard someone almost got used as a pigeon feeder in London?"

Lin Yuan: "...Who took this photo? Was it a paparazzi from the film crew? That's a pigeon's enthusiastic expression of love for an Eastern artist!"

Gu Zhiwan: "Pfft, hahaha! Stop it, hurry up and check the news, your next opponent has already sent a message to you from afar."

Lin Yuan raised an eyebrow and opened Reddit and Twitter, the largest music forums in Europe and America.

The top trending topic on Twitter was:

#Gabriel challenges Dongfang Linyuan remotely: I'm going to tear everything apart with rock and roll in London!#

In the news, a video of Gabriel being interviewed at Los Angeles Airport was widely shared.

The blond youth in the video had an arrogant and cocky look in his eyes. He raised his middle finger at the camera (which was later blurred out) and shouted, "Lin Yuan is an interesting opponent, but his music last week was too quiet! 'Eternal Sound' is not a hypnotic event. In a week, I will show him what the Atlantic storm is all about!"

Western music fans across the internet are absolutely thrilled.

"Gabe is getting serious! Heavy metal versus emo—it's a clash of fire and water!"

"Can Lin Yuan hold on? Gabriel's high-pitched vocal power is unmatched among the younger generation!"

"I've already bought my tickets! This is absolutely a battle of the gods!"

Looking at the overwhelming tension online, and Gabriel's face full of fighting emojis that say "I'm going to take on ten of them".

Lin Yuan sat on the hotel sofa, reached for the half-eaten pack of English tea biscuits on the table next to him, and stuffed them into his mouth, crunching away.

Is it a tyranny of heavy metal fanaticism?

Lin Yuan looked at the lights of the Thames River outside the window, a playful smile curving his lips.

"Since you want to play big..."

"Then next week, I'll play a big game with you."