"I knew it. Brother Chu is always overflowing with talent. His performances never disappoint!" said Che Lun from the backstage control room, laughing loudly the moment the performance ended.
"If this doesn't make the trending list, what will? Hahaha!" His confidence surged like a tidal wave, as if the entire production hinged on him.
Thunderous applause echoed from inside the Red Pavilion, so loud it seemed the roof might lift. The cheers were audible even from outside.
"At first, I thought it wasn't as surprising as 'Chrysanthemum Terrace'... but wait—was that an opera tone? It didn't even sound like a traditional opera voice. It was... gorgeous."
"I wanted to be poetic, but honestly, I have no words. I can only say—damn, this man is absolutely insane."
"Ninth Master looks so beautiful, too beautiful, I'm drooling. He was my favorite male singer before, but now he's also my favorite goddess!"
"'New Drunken Beauty' didn't just sing Yang Yuhuan. He became her. Every gesture, every glance—it felt like a full opera, not just a song."
"A nuclear opening. How is anyone supposed to follow that with a duet or a quartet?"
The audience was lit up with excitement, glow sticks and support banners waving like waves on the sea.
As the first performer of the night, Chu Zhi had set a bar that was nearly untouchable.
Zhu Xinyue thought to herself, "Good thing I'm fourth."
Liang Zhengwen, the final act, silently praised the order. "I'm last. Perfect."
As for Koguchi Yoshihiro, who was third, he felt no pressure at all. In fact, he was thrilled. Seeing Chu Zhi shine brought him more joy than outperforming others.
"Did you see that, Suzuki-chan? That's Chu-san!" Koguchi beamed. "The stage presence, the artistry. His appearance in that costume—it was as exquisite as the Green Glazed Twelve-Curved Long Cup."
The Green Glazed Twelve-Curved Long Cup was a treasured artifact from the Tang dynasty, brought back by Japanese envoys and now preserved in Nara's national museum. A national treasure.
Suzuki Kano was captivated. Especially when the robe and mask came off, she didn't want to miss a single detail. The last time she paid this much attention was during a national tour by a Noh master. What could they even compete with? Suzuki Kano felt they were no match. She thought of offering some comforting words to Koguchi, only to see his face glowing with admiration.
"Well, never mind. He didn't need cheering up."
If the last three performers were relaxed, the pressure had clearly shifted.
All eyes turned to the second act: the GZ boy band.
"Game over." That was Jo Kwon's only thought after watching Chu Zhi's performance.
Language, nationality, awards—all of those have borders. But music? Music crosses all boundaries. Even if you can't understand the lyrics, you can still feel it.
Even "Chapter Seven of the Night" had female vocals, but this was something else. Jo Kwon wasn't tone-deaf—he knew when something was art. And what Chu Zhi just delivered was on the level of Korea's traditional pansori. A masterpiece.
"No wonder Jo Kwon lost twice. Competing with Chinese singers feels like fighting giants," thought Jang Tae-hwan. This round wouldn't be easy.
He had previously considered letting Jo Kwon lose again for the third time, but now, seeing how high the stakes were—especially with the whole group assembled—he didn't want to lose either.
The GZ members often worked separately in China, each chasing gigs. But Jang Tae-hwan understood the truth: one's success was tied to the group's. If the group stumbled, so did everyone else.
Silence settled over the GZ team. Even Jeong Min'an, who had boasted earlier that Chinese stars were easy to beat, now wore a serious expression.
In stark contrast, the stage was buzzing with life.
Chu Zhi had finished thanking his team—his music director, makeup artist, and the live band.
"So, Teacher Chu's guest performer was… himself?" Host Hu Xiaodong took the stage to clarify. "For the finals, contestants were allowed to invite a guest, but it wasn't mandatory."
"So what made you decide not to invite anyone?" he asked, voicing the curiosity of the entire audience.
"Because 'New Drunken Beauty' is a song I can perform alone. I didn't think a guest was necessary," Chu Zhi replied.
Whoa. That was bold. Guest features are usually about boosting appeal and crowd energy. What Chu Zhi was saying was, basically—I'm unbeatable. Do as you will.
"Thank you, Teacher Chu, for such a phenomenal performance," Hu Xiaodong said, then added one last question. "Forgive me for asking another question—it's just, that stage was so dazzling I can't help myself.
Was the female voice just now considered 'opera tone'? I've heard some ancient-style songs before, but this one felt completely different."
"I'm fascinated by Chinese culture. I've done a bit of personal research into Peking Opera, especially Qingyi roles," said Chu Zhi. "So I tried learning the vocal style. Whether I did it well or not, I don't really know."
"It was great. In my opinion, it was better than many trained Qingyi performers!" said Hu Xiaodong.
There's a common misconception. People often think Mei Lanfang and Cheng Yanqiu were flower dan roles—but actually, both were known for playing Qingyi, the lead female role. Cheng studied under Mei and focused exclusively on that type.
Flower dan are often supporting characters. Qingyi, or "proper dan," are the emotional heart of most operas.
Among the four great dan performers, only Xun Huisheng specialized in flower dan. Flower dan roles require expressive acting. Qingyi roles focus more on singing.
That's why Chu Zhi's vocals stunned the crowd.
With questions answered, Chu Zhi exited the stage. Hu Xiaodong turned to the audience and began the voting process. Each viewer had a small remote. Press the red button if you liked the performance. If not, do nothing.
After two minutes, Hu Xiaodong declared, "Voting is now closed. Let's welcome our second act and their guest performer."
The results wouldn't be revealed just yet. Suspense was a staple of variety shows.
"They are the top idol group in South Korea, the highest-selling Asian boy band, nominated five times for the Mnet Asian Music Awards, and two-time winners of Best Male Group."
"They are... Goodyear.Zeppelin!"
Applause erupted again.
Back in the dressing room, Chu Zhi was already removing his makeup.
"That went really well. It's all thanks to your idea, Brother Huang. Thank you," Chu Zhi said.
Originally, he had an ambitious request—to complete a full face of makeup during the twenty-second bridge of the song.
Huang Mi had firmly shut it down. Not possible. The compromise? A golden mask.
But the result? Stunning.
"Haha, no need to thank me. The 'Like Smoke' makeup already boosted my reputation in the industry. After this episode airs, I'll be even bigger," Huang Mi said while wiping away the eyeliner.
"You flatter me. You were already a legend in the makeup world," Chu Zhi replied.
While things were calm backstage, the stage was alive again.
GZ performed an original song in Chinese. But it was clever. They had simply translated an old dance track, not composed something new.
The dance routines were familiar. The only challenge had been memorizing the lyrics.
Sure, Jo Kwon could write songs. But to craft a new Chinese song from scratch, just for one show? That was a stretch.
When their stage ended, the applause was loud—but not explosive. Hu Xiaodong could feel the difference.
You can't blame the audience. When something new and beautiful appears, it's impossible to ignore.