47: As soon as Chapter 47, "Nocturne," started playing, the Tencent servers crashed.

All the lights in the Studio dimmed.

The breathing of five hundred people instantly halted.

In the darkness, the silhouette of a grand piano was outlined by a narrow beam of overhead light.

The comments in the Livestream Room paused for three seconds.

Then, they began to scroll frantically.

"Piano? He can play the piano too?"

"Isn't he a guitar player?"

Chief Director Liang Boyuan sat in front of the monitors and pressed the button on his walkie-talkie: "All cameras, lock onto him."

Jiang Fan walked out from the passageway.

A black suit jacket, a black shirt, no accessories whatsoever.

He sat down on the piano bench and lifted the lid.

Principal Cellist stood to his rear right, holding her cello.

The drummer took his seat, while the guitarist, bassist, and others lined up on both sides.

A full band lineup was laid out.

The audience in the front row raised their hands, ready to jeer, but after seeing the instrument setup, they lowered them back down.

Jiang Fan's fingers rested on the keys.

The first note of the intro fell.

Crisp, icy, and imbued with the unique tragic color of classical music.

Immediately after, Principal Cellist pressed her bow against the strings.

The bass of the cello rose from the crisp sound of the piano, the two distinct timbres intertwining to pull out intense tension.

Guitar arpeggios followed closely, and the muffled thud of the electronic kick drum hit the beat precisely.

The audience looked at each other in dismay.

No one had ever heard a melody like this.

But that instinctive catchiness pierced directly through their eardrums.

Xue Zhiheng's eyes widened, his body lunging forward, staring fixedly at the stage.

Su Yuyan's body, which had been leaning against the back of her chair, stiffened; the expression she had prepared for finding faults froze on her face.

Jiang Fan leaned into the microphone.

No high notes, no showing off, his tone casual and lazy as he went straight into a rap-like delivery.

"A swarm of bloodthirsty ants is drawn to rotting flesh,"

"I watch the lonely scenery with an expressionless face,"

"Losing you makes love and hate start to become clear,"

"Losing you, what else is there to care about."

The word count was immense, the rhythm extremely fast.

But Jiang Fan's enunciation was clear and sharp, without a hint of muddiness.

The audience's movements, waving their glow sticks, stopped in perfect unison.

This style of Arrangement had never appeared in the Chinese music scene.

Dark, gorgeous, decadent, and highly aggressive.

"I play Chopin's nocturne for you, to commemorate my dead love,"

"The sound like the night wind, heartbreak sounds so beautiful,"

"My hands tap the keyboard very lightly, the longing I give is very careful,"

"The place where you are buried is called the Underworld."

The chorus exploded.

There was no heart-wrenching screaming.

The cello tore frantically in the bass register, while the piano struck coldly in the high register.

Jiang Fan's voice wove between the two instruments with ease.

Backstage passageway.

Zhao Tianyu stood in front of the monitoring screen, his hands ice-cold.

Several girls in the front row covered their mouths, their eyes staring at the stage without blinking.

The Studio fell into a strange silence.

Among the five hundred audience members, not a single one made a sound.

Those fans who had come specifically to support Zhao Tianyu stood frozen in place, holding their light signs.

Li Cheng stood behind the blackout curtain on the side stage.

He had already heard it five times during rehearsals.

Hearing it now, his arms were still covered in goosebumps.

The bridge section.

The band went silent.

Only the piano remained.

Jiang Fan lowered his head, his ten fingers moving at high speed over the black and white keys.

The notes were dense, yet the sound wasn't chaotic, converging into an extremely precise, sorrowful melodic line.

Applause broke out from a corner of the audience.

It wasn't polite encouragement, but an irrepressible, instinctive reaction.

The applause spread rapidly, covering the entire audience area.

The chorus advanced for the second time.

"I play Chopin's nocturne for you, to commemorate my dead love,"

"And I hide my name for you, playing the piano under the moonlight,"

"The sensing of your heartbeat is still so warm and close,"

"Missing your bright red lip print."

The last syllable fell.

The Studio was dead silent for two seconds.

Applause poured in like a dam breaking.

The screen was flooded white by the comments.

"What on earth is this??"

"Can songs even be written like this??"

"Is there any suspense about the champion anymore?"

"Zhao Tianyu fan here, I'm logging off, goodbye."

Teacher He walked quickly to the center of the stage.

"Jiang Fan, what is this song called—"

""nocturne"." Jiang Fan rose from the piano bench. "Original."

Xue Zhiheng was the first to grab the microphone.

"Twenty years in the industry. I can't define this song with any existing genre. I can only say—I want to buy the rights to it right now."

Laughter and applause intertwined in the audience.

Xu Qingya picked up the microphone.

"Lyrics, composition, Arrangement, and vocals are all top-tier."

The whole venue went quiet for a moment.

Everyone knew that this was the highest praise Xu Qingya had given all night.

Su Yuyan's fingers pressed against the microphone.

She stared at the black silhouette on stage, her mind blank.

This wasn't in the script.

Times Media's strategy for her had three points: ignore if he performs mediocrely, nitpick if he does well, and change the subject to Zhao Tianyu if he exceeds expectations.

There was no fourth point.

No one had told her what to do if the song was so good that she couldn't find a single flaw.

Su Yuyan picked up the microphone.

"The fusion of classical and rap—many people have tried this path," she said, her speaking pace slower than usual. "No one has succeeded."

She took a deep breath.

"You are the first."

On the big screen, the voting channel opened.

The numbers jumped. One million, three million, eight million—the growth rate was double that of Zhao Tianyu's.

Ten million, fifteen million—

The voting page suddenly froze.

The comments exploded again.

"Is the voting broken??"

"Did the Tencent Video server crash???"

"How many people are online at the same time!"

In the backstage technical room, the Operations Director of Tencent Video stared at the red alarm screen, wiping sweat frantically.

The audience below instead laughed loudly.

Someone shouted at the top of their lungs: "Jiang Fan! You crashed the Tencent Video server!"

Teacher He urgently saved the situation, going on stage to read a long advertisement.

Five minutes later, the backup server was connected, and voting opened again.

The numbers finally settled.

Jiang Fan, 19 million votes.

Zhao Tianyu's 13 million votes couldn't even see Jiang Fan's taillights.

"Congratulations to Jiang Fan!" Teacher He shouted at the top of his lungs. "The national champion of Tomorrows Star is born!"

Above the stage, golden ribbons and confetti exploded, falling in a flurry.

Jiang Fan stood in the center of the stage, not raising his hands to cheer, nor shedding tears of excitement.

He took the trophy handed over by the Chief Director and stood firm in the center of the stage.

Golden ribbons were still flying overhead, and the applause of the five hundred audience members was deafening.

Teacher He handed the microphone to him.

Jiang Fan looked down at the trophy in his hand and was silent for two seconds.

Then he spoke, his voice not loud, but the Studio instantly quieted down.

"I didn't prepare any acceptance speech." Jiang Fan paused. "Because I'm not very good at saying pretty words."

"I only want to say one thing."

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the entire venue.

"Don't let the Korean Wave get more and more arrogant; Chinese music is the coolest."

The program recording ended.

The audience began to leave, and staff swarmed onto the stage to dismantle the equipment.

Side stage passageway.

"Manager Zhang Lei from Tencent Music has sent a fourth message." Li Cheng followed behind Jiang Fan. "He says the contract terms can be renegotiated, and the revenue split can be adjusted."

Jiang Fan picked up a bottle of mineral water from the corner, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

"Make him wait."

"There is one more thing." Li Cheng lowered his voice. "Su Yuyan's assistant just came over to pass on a message. Teacher Su wants to chat with you alone after the show ends."

Jiang Fan screwed the cap back on.

"Chat about what?"

"Su Yuyan says the Arrangement of "nocturne" is too complex, and she has many professional questions she didn't understand. She wants to chat with you alone in the executive suite on the top floor of the hotel after the show."

Li Cheng looked at Jiang Fan's profile.

In the entertainment industry, anyone who knows, knows what this reason means.

"Got it." Jiang Fan threw the mineral water bottle into the trash can and strode toward the lounge.