And “Melancholy”—just the title alone sounds so outdated.
There was no way he could muster any expectations. His vote was definitely going to Cai Kun.
On stage, Chen An held his guitar, exhaled, and closed his eyes.
Since he couldn’t see anyway, why not just shut them completely?
The rhythm of “Melancholy” was also simple—just a guitar was enough to perform it perfectly. But to add more layers to the music, they had incorporated common instruments like the harmonica and drums this time.
The sound began, first with the harmonica weaving a melancholic and lonely prelude.
The music surged like ocean waves, washing over every corner of the venue.
And the audience below became like fish, listening to the sound of the tide.
“When you step into this carnival,
Carrying all your dreams and hopes,
Faces painted in every hue,
No one remembers who you are…”
Chen An’s voice blended into the waves, his hands strumming the guitar, harmonizing with the harmonica—immersing everyone completely.
“These lyrics…” Xue Qianqian froze at the very first line. Despite years of studying lyrics, these two lines struck straight into his heart.
Yang Dami was the same, her gaze fixed on the melancholic figure on stage.
“One toast to the morning sun, one toast to the moonlight,
Awakening my longing, softening the cold window.
So I can fly against the wind without looking back,
Unafraid of storms in my heart or frost in my eyes.”
“Holy shit!”
“Incredible!”
As this verse hit, the audience’s eyes widened in unison, their gazes locked onto Chen An, ears straining to catch every single word.
At this point, even the backstage crew had stopped moving, staring intently at the figure on the screen.
Chen An’s voice continued:
“One toast to my hometown, one toast to distant lands,
Guarding my kindness, urging me to grow.
So the roads north and south no longer feel endless,
And my soul no longer wanders lost.”
The melody carried the story within the lyrics, the four toasts leaving everyone slightly intoxicated.
Through blurred eyes, they seemed to see the silhouette of a wandering youth.
Cai Kun struggled not to get lost in the lyrics, pinching his thigh hard to stay alert.
On stage, Chen An’s fingers danced across the strings, one masterful chord after another, leading into the next verse.
“One toast to the morning sun, one toast to the moonlight,
Awakening my longing, softening the cold window.
So I can fly against the wind without looking back,
Unafraid of storms in my heart or frost in my eyes.”
As if reaching the climax, the storytelling lyrics finally arrived at their conclusion.
Chen An lifted his hands, completely immersed in the song. The band played with everything they had—they knew this performance could become legendary, so they couldn’t afford a single mistake.
Holding the microphone, Chen An’s raspy voice carried the courage to speak to the world as he sang the final lines:
“One toast to freedom, one toast to death,
Forgiving my mediocrity, dispelling my confusion.
Well, after dawn, we always leave in haste,
The sober ones are the most absurd.
The sober ones are the most absurd.”
As the last line faded, not a single listener in the venue could keep their eyes from widening in awe.
A toast to freedom, a toast to death—these two drinks were simply too strong, stronger than all six previous cups combined.
What had Chen An been through to write such astonishing lyrics?
Clap clap clap—
Someone began applauding, and soon, thunderous applause erupted.
Even Xue Qianqian was clapping excitedly.
Backstage, the staff of Star of Tomorrow exchanged wide-eyed glances before turning to director Chen Xu.
Chen Xu took a deep breath and said solemnly, “After this episode airs, give Chen An maximum exposure.”
No one was surprised by this decision.
Because Chen An’s talent deserved it.
On stage, the applause lasted a full two minutes before gradually fading. The audience now looked at Chen An with the same adoration as die-hard fans gazing at their idol.
Xue Qianqian was slightly more composed. He carefully picked up the lyric sheet again, reading each line with utmost seriousness.
These lyrics were so profound they made him want to kneel in reverence.
Yang Dami was even more dramatic. This time, she couldn’t hold back—she burst into tears right there on stage, her face streaked with sorrow.
If Someone Like Me had made her cry, then Melancholy completely overwhelmed her, leaving her weak and drenched in tears.
Such was the power of lyrics—and the lingering after effects of those eight drinks.
Meanwhile, Hua Chengyu curled his lips in indifference.
Really? This song had no high notes, no climax—just plain from start to finish.
And yet it made them cry?
It didn’t even come close to the impact of his own songs.
And what was that nonsense about eight drinks? Absolute garbage. He wouldn’t take this song even if it were handed to him for free.
Cai Kun stepped onto the stage with a dark expression, standing beside Chen An.
He suddenly realized—this guy actually had a shred of talent. This song was indeed slightly better than his own Hey, What Are You Doing?
The host took the stage, standing next to Chen An with an unmistakable look of admiration.
But he quickly remembered his job, clearing his throat before speaking.
“Alright, judges, it’s time to cast your votes for these two contestants.”
As he spoke, he subtly gave Chen An a reassuring glance—though he immediately remembered the other man couldn’t see it, sighing inwardly.
Yang Dami went first.
Gazing at Chen An’s unfocused eyes, her heart ached with sympathy.
Someone Like Me and Melancholy spoke volumes about what he must have endured.
He had surely suffered pain beyond what most could bear. She wished she could take him aside for a private conversation.
Without hesitation, she cast her vote for Chen An.
When it was Xue Qianqian’s turn, his expression was grave. His eyes locked onto Chen An, completely ignoring Cai Kun—a slight that filled the latter with fury and helplessness.
“Chen An, you’re the most talented young artist I’ve ever met. Melancholy has convinced me—my vote is yours without a question.”
With that, Xue Qianqian smiled.
Even if both contestants were from his team, one Chen An was worth ten Cai Kuns.
Chen An bowed slightly in response, while Cai Kun lowered his head in bitter defeat. He couldn’t believe he had lost—and to someone he’d never even considered a threat.
But just then, a soft chuckle cut through the tension.
“I have to disagree with you there, Qianqian.”
As soon as these words were spoken, everyone’s gaze turned to Hua Chengyu.
His eyes shifted between the two of them before finally settling on Cai Kun.
“I choose Cai Kun. As for Chen An, his songs have never met my standards, and I’ve never had any expectations for him—especially after listening to ‘Melancholy’.”