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

Inside the Shanghai Stadium, spotlights were turned on, and an announcement was made that there would be a ten-minute halftime break.

The audience inside the stadium got up and moved around, drinking water. The 4G and 5G signal base stations near the stadium instantly experienced a huge surge in traffic, and tens of thousands of spectators immediately took out their phones to upload the footage they had just recorded to various short video platforms and Weibo.

Although it was just a direct recording from a mobile phone, the camera inevitably shakiened, and the sound quality was affected by ambient noise. However, Lin Yuan's completely live voice, without any trace of audio editing, was still recorded with unparalleled clarity.

These fan-taken photos were quickly captured by the platform's algorithm within minutes and began to spread widely.

……

The online public opinion landscape changed completely shortly afterward.

The clips from "Starry Night" and "Handwritten Past" first attracted attention. The warm yellow lighting and the falling gold confetti in the video made many viewers say that they were back in their student days.

But what truly sparked a frenzy of reposts across the internet was that minute-and-a-half-long live performance of "Stranded".

In the video, Lin Yuan stands at the very front of the extended platform, without any extra backing vocals, relying entirely on the function of his vocal cords and chest resonance to directly hit the high notes of that extremely wide-ranging chorus.

Those who managed to snag tickets went on a frenzy of posting on various social media platforms:

"I was in the fifth row of the inner circle, and when I listened to 'Stranded,' my whole body went numb. There was absolutely no lip-syncing or backing vocals; it was all pure vocals."

"I thought he was amazing when I heard his songs two years ago. Listening to him live today, I can see that his singing skills have not only not declined, but his breath control is even more stable than before."

Following closely behind was a massive online frenzy among tens of thousands of netizens who failed to secure tickets.

The comment sections of various posts are filled with regret for those who couldn't attend in person.

"I hate my typing speed, why did it lag for even a second?"

"Even looking at this rough-quality video on my phone screen, I can feel the oppressive atmosphere of the scene. When will I ever be able to go to a live event?"

"Those who spent money to buy scalped tickets now see it was really worth it."

Meanwhile, thousands of passersby and netizens gathered outside the stadium also posted online to confirm:

"We couldn't get into the venue, so we listened from under the big screen outside. Even though we were separated by the outer wall of the venue, everyone in the square fell silent when Lin Yuan sang."

As the discussion deepened, many music bloggers and critics quickly followed up, dissecting each of the five new songs from the first half of the event.

From the guitar chords of "Starry Sky" to the emotional progression of "Excuse"; from the challenging arrangement of "Stranded" to the restrained arrangement of "Retreat" and the retro campus elements in "Handwritten Past".

Objective evaluations prevailed: these five songs are not hastily produced pop songs; each one has an extremely mature melody and industrial quality.

Prior to this, negative online claims about "a lack of inspiration after two years away from the industry" and "Lin Yuan is outdated" were quickly dispelled and disintegrated in the face of these irrefutable facts.

The intense online reaction immediately spread to the upstream of the entire music industry.

A few days ago, major domestic music streaming platforms were still very cautious about Tianxing Entertainment. Since Lin Yuan had been away from the industry for two whole years, no one could be sure whether his new album would still meet current market preferences, and the pre-order conditions and resource slots offered by each platform were all flexible.

However, seeing the buzz surrounding these five unreleased songs on social media, the attitudes of various platforms took a complete 180-degree turn within just ten minutes.

Copyright directors and operations managers from platforms such as Tencent Music and NetEase Cloud Music urgently contacted executives of Tianxing Entertainment via private phone calls and WeChat.

Their demands were highly consistent: they hoped to secure the exclusive first release rights for Lin Yuan's brand new original solo album as soon as possible, or at least obtain the top-priority promotional partnership. To demonstrate their sincerity, several platforms even proactively offered significant discounts on their original commercial quotes and promised to provide full-fledged splash screen promotions and prime homepage placements.

Fei Zhao sat backstage at the venue, looking at the price increase details of various platforms on his tablet. He did not reply to any of them immediately, but simply asked his assistant to record all the quotes.

Two years ago, when Lin Yuan retired, this group of businessmen were watching from the sidelines; now, after Lin Yuan has only performed half a show, they have flocked back. The realities and snobbery of the business market are on full display at this moment.

The initiative in negotiations has now completely returned to Tianxing Entertainment.

The door to the lounge opened at that moment, and Lin Yuan, who had changed into a dark black jacket, strode in, his hair still damp with the fine sweat from being dried. Gu Zhiwan casually handed him a glass of warm honey water at just the right temperature, and then took a tissue to wipe away the remaining beads of sweat on the back of his neck.

Lin Yuan took two big gulps, let out a long sigh, and leaned back in the makeup chair.

Fei Zhao spun his chair around to look at him, pushed the tablet onto the table, raised an eyebrow and smiled, "Wow, Lin Yuan, after just five songs in the first half, the copyright directors from Tencent and NetEase Cloud Music have been calling my personal phone non-stop, and the price they quoted is 30% higher than before we went abroad. Your voice is worth more than gold now."

"The capital market has always been opportunistic. If they're not in a hurry, then we shouldn't be either," Lin Yuan said casually, clearly unsurprised.

Gu Zhiwan looked at his slightly red Adam's apple, shook her head helplessly, and whispered, "Alright, stop talking business with Sister Fei. You were hitting those high notes so hard during 'Stranded' earlier, the whole audience was going crazy. Be careful in the second half, don't ruin your voice, there's still a long show to go."

Lin Yuan smiled upon hearing this, casually took her slightly cool fingertips and squeezed them, his expression relaxed: "Don't worry, I practiced warming up my voice when I was in the wind on the top of the Alps, so I can handle this intensity. The emotions of the songs in the second half are different, so you don't need to keep forcing yourself to sing high notes."

Fei Zhao, watching the two of them like this, joked, "Zhiwan, don't worry. If he really dares to sing until his voice is hoarse, don't fret. I'll be the first to call the team doctor and give him throat lozenges. There are still three minutes before going on stage. The in-ear monitors and microphones have been readjusted. Lin Yuan, it's your turn for the second half."

Lin Yuan drank the warm water in his cup in one gulp, stood up, straightened his collar, put his in-ear monitor back on, and the gentleness in his eyes once again transformed into the composure and confidence he had before going on stage.

In contrast, the core management team of Starway Entertainment was in an embarrassing situation.

Inside a private room at a high-end club in Beijing, several executives from Starway Entertainment, who were originally preparing to launch a public relations campaign when a flaw appeared at the concert, were now sitting around a table with somber expressions.

The phone on the table kept vibrating, pushing in the latest news about Lin Yuan's concert.

The PR vice president swiped his finger across the screen, clicking on a fan-shot video that had over a million views. As he listened to the sound coming from the phone's speaker, a long-unseen unease and anxiety settled over the private room.

"Is this a direct recording from a mobile phone without any audio editing?" an executive asked in a low voice.

"The technical department has verified that it was indeed recorded live, and there is no backing track," the person next to him replied, looking down.

"Can those press releases I prepared about 'declining singing skills' and 'singing off-key' still be released now?"

"Posting this will only invite criticism." The VP of Public Relations threw his phone on the table, rubbed his temples, and said, "The public isn't stupid. With this kind of quality event, trying to smear us will only make casual viewers think we're deliberately trying to discredit them, and the backlash will fall entirely on us."

Their nearly two-year-long plan, built on the market perception of "a new king replacing an old god" by Berlek, appeared shaky in the face of this short, half-hour real stage.

……

At the same time, inside the rehearsal hall of the Starway Building.

Berlekun sat alone on a bench in the rest area.

To coordinate with the company's online special stage showcasing the contrasting voices of Lin Yuan's concert, he has been rehearsing for four consecutive hours, his black hoodie already soaked with sweat.

He leaned against the wall, took out his phone from his pocket, and opened Weibo.

The trending topics list was almost entirely filled with Lin Yuan's name. He swiped his finger and found several clips of the scene that were going viral across the internet.

He plugged in his headphones, turned the volume to medium, and listened quietly to all five songs.

From the first acoustic guitar note to the final orchestral accompaniment, all I could hear in my headphones was Lin Yuan's singing and the unrestrained roar of the tens of thousands of people in the audience.

Berlekun leaned against the wall, his chest rising and falling slightly.

There was no anger at being overshadowed in his eyes, only a sense of powerlessness and frustration as a fellow creator.

"Two years have passed, yet I haven't become rusty at all."

Berlekun raised his hand to shield his stinging eyes and muttered to himself, "I've always lived in his shadow, and it's no wonder."