Chapter 364: Li Luo, I Miss You All

As the host stepped offstage, the stage lights abruptly dimmed.

A figure slowly walked forward from behind.

When the light fell upon Yuan Wanqing, the audience saw that she had once again changed her attire.

She wore a robe with cross-patterned collars, adorned with decorations around her neck and head, and feathers stitched along the sleeves and sides.

Seeing Yuan Wanqing's outfit paired with the screen lighting behind the stage, the audience felt as if she had instantly transported them to a high plateau—before their eyes, flocks of sheep and cattle roamed beneath a boundless blue sky, as a Miss walked gracefully forward.

As the music swelled, the childlike chorus of "Yi ya yi ya you" floated softly through the audience's ears.

At this moment, Yuan Wanqing picked up the microphone, her gaze seeming to gaze far into the distance; she leaned forward, her clear voice soft yet resonant, singing:

"A Diao~ living somewhere in the west~"

"Perched like a vulture~ atop the mountain peak~"

This song seemed unlike any of her previous ones.

It gave a sense of great distance; the lyrics described a girl from a faraway land, seemingly out of place among city dwellers.

Yuan Wanqing sang slowly, her Tibetan robe making her appear as if she were recounting her own story.

The entire song used "you," yet every word sung from Yuan Wanqing's lips felt like "I."

"A Diao~ insincere people wear a thousand kinds of smiles~"

"When will you descend the mountain~"

"Remember to bring Zhuoma's knife~"

From the initial softness at the start, her voice gradually grew firm and resilient.

Yuan Wanqing's gaze also sharpened, becoming fierce and unyielding.

"Beneath the gray brim~ sunken cheeks~"

"You speak little! Give simple answers~"

"Where will you be tomorrow? Who will care for you~"

"Even if you fall on the road~"

As the audience gradually sank into the song's atmosphere, drawn in by Yuan Wanqing's vocal style and attire,

many still remembered the prior songs—"Ru Yuan" and "Shi Mama Shi Nü'er," and among other performers, Han Hong's climactic "Tian Lu."

This final song of the night, until the first chorus, showed no clear surge in intensity, leaving some disappointed.

Even the lyrics felt forced—though distinctive, the snowy region was too distant for most, offering no sense of connection.

Naturally, it could not move them to tears as her first two songs had.

Yet between the two verses, during the interlude, as the backing vocals let out a piercing cry, Yuan Wanqing sang her confession.

Only when she sang the final line—"Wounds turned to scars~ blooming into breathtaking flowers~"—did some audience members suddenly realize.

This song, though framed as singing of a girl from afar, was truly singing of Yuan Wanqing herself!

Thus, when the second verse ended and the chorus returned, the audience's hearts were stirred.

"Fate is cruel~ yet she remains calm~"

"Farewell to youth~ countless stations passed by~"

Yuan Wanqing's voice rose higher and higher.

The lyrics seemed to recount her own hardships.

After two or three years in the spotlight, at her peak, she was forced to leave her homeland due to heart disease, battling illness far away.

For a girl, a singer, what kind of torment was over a decade?

Her youth was gone; opportunity after opportunity, like countless stations, slipped past her ears.

"Content with ordinariness, yet unwilling to surrender to mediocrity~"

"You are A Diao~"

"You are—a free bird!!!"

With the buildup of the two main verses, the interlude's confession, and the accumulated emotion reaching this point,

as the second chorus advanced step by step, Yuan Wanqing's voice climbed higher, then higher still.

Until that cry of "free bird" soared across the entire stage, shattering the audience's skulls as if their crowns had been ripped open.

That piercing, crystal-clear high note, brimming with deep-seated defiance, unyielding stubbornness, and fearless confidence, blazed forth in full brilliance upon the stage.

In that single moment, all prior buildup gained value and meaning.

Even though Li Luo had another version of "A Diao" in his mind—perfected to its extreme—he still felt goosebumps rise as he watched Yuan Wanqing's performance, as if his soul had been washed clean by her voice.

Undeniably, compared to the female singer from his past life whom Li Luo greatly admired for her cover of this song, Yuan Wanqing's voice still lacked a slight edge in clarity and brilliance, yet her vocal versatility was exceptional.

She could sing "A Diao," she could sing "Ru Yuan," she could sing "Kong Xin."

For every song, she made subtle adjustments to her phrasing according to her own feelings and understanding.

Undeniably, during her years abroad, she had never slackened for a moment.

This was certainly not the result of secretly dating Ying Shu—it was earned through true hardship.

This time,

no one cried.

But when Yuan Wanqing's final lyric faded, many felt a profound sense of loss.

Because in the entire song, that cry of "free bird" had occurred only once.

The audience had expected the second chorus to repeat it again.

Yet Yuan Wanqing restrained herself, ending with a soft whisper.

As a result, many listeners were left stifled, their hearts aching, desperately wanting to hear that soaring high note one more time.

Still, for the final song of the King of Singers battle, ending in such a declarative manner felt fitting enough.

"You are a free bird," as if speaking of someone else, yet it was Yuan Wanqing speaking to herself.

Watching Yuan Wanqing bow in thanks on stage, people felt as if they saw a caged bird finally breaking free from its prison, spreading its wings and soaring into the sky, regaining its freedom.

This song itself may not have been as continuously dazzling as Yuan Wanqing's first two songs, but just like Yuan Wanqing's own journey, without enduring hardship, how could one produce such a clear, soaring cry?

This is truly custom-made.

If "The Sky Has No Limits" expressed Yuan Wanqing's inner voice from a positive, narrative perspective,

then "A Diao" used a relatively ethereal, spiritual outlet approach, employing the rare image of a "Tibetan Miss" as a metaphor to reveal Yuan Wanqing's inner struggle, fearlessness, and fervent pursuit of singing freely.

"Phew… finally over."

Li Luo watched Yuan Wanqing finish "A Diao," and also felt a weight lift, smiling softly.

After months of preparation and effort, Yuan Wanqing had finally borne fruit, achieving true success.

Whether or not she became Singing King no longer mattered; the key was that Yuan Wanqing had fully returned to the public eye and stood shoulder to shoulder with veteran singers—not falling behind, even subtly gaining the upper hand.

Under these circumstances, Yuan Wanqing was no longer the fresh-faced newcomer from over a decade ago.

Although she had once been hailed by the media as a little empress due to her sudden rise, she was still far from being a true empress.

Now, choosing a comeback, after her first new album was unremarkable, she turned the tide in just over a year, rising to the final stage of the singer competition with the invincible force of her second new album.

Regardless of the outcome, this was an extremely successful comeback; even if Yuan Wanqing never released another song, the quality of these few songs alone would be enough to firmly secure her position among the top tier of the music industry.

"I've successfully wrapped up this plotline," Li Luo said, logging into his author backend after Yuan Wanqing finished the song and uploading the concluding chapters.

Readers had clearly been eagerly awaiting it.

It was a pity that Mo Qinghan ultimately took second place, narrowly missing the Singing King title, leaving some readers disappointed.

【I've been reading the novel—how come you didn't even give her the championship?】

【Isn't this actually logical? After all, Mo Qinghan is only in her twenties in the story, while the youngest other finalist is over forty!】

【Singing isn't about seniority—so many great songs, and this is the result?】

【Han Hong dropped "The Heavenly Road"—what can you do? The finals don't count performances from earlier episodes.】

【I think it's fine. If Mo Qinghan became Singing King in her twenties, it would be hard to write anything after that. Now, with second place, she gains fame without advancing too fast—it's perfect.】

【What about Yuan Wanqing? Will she also get second place? "A Diao" personally feels inferior to "As You Wish," but it's still incredibly powerful—especially that climax, it shook me to my core.】

【Let's see—the results are about to be announced, right?】

【Here it comes! It's about to be announced!】

【???】

【No way! She really got second place? I seriously suspect Chongran knew the outcome in advance!】

【What a pity—I thought she'd win the championship.】

【It's already amazing. Before she stepped onto the singer stage, how many people even knew Yuan Wanqing? Now she's truly exploded in popularity.】

【Put "As You Wish" as the final song of the finals—guaranteed Singing King!】

【What if it was predetermined? I'm not saying Han Hong isn't great—her "The Heavenly Road" is still top-tier.】

【To be honest, in terms of overall performance on the singer stage, Yuan Wanqing is unquestionably number one—each new song brings innovation and surprise, and her interpretations carry unique insight. It's truly a pity.】

【Haha, that's also because our Chongran's songs are so good. Most albums couldn't even lift nine songs onto the stage—probably only the lead single would make the cut.】

【To be fair, Yuan Wanqing sings excellently, but these songs are truly top-tier—I feel even if the other finalists sang them, they could still deliver.】

Singer Season 3 concluded successfully.

Han Hong won the Singing King title; Yuan Wanqing took second place.

This result was something she had mentally prepared for—even exceeding her expectations.

Thus, Yuan Wanqing felt no disappointment; on stage, she smiled warmly and congratulated the veterans.

Yet on Weibo, this Singing King title sparked considerable controversy.

Many felt Yuan Wanqing's performance deserved the Singing King title, even claiming she was the uncrowned queen of this season.

Meanwhile, digital sales of the album "The Sky Has No Limits" had, perhaps due to retaliatory consumption from Yuan Wanqing's loss, surged again after the show ended at 11 p. m.

Sales shot past 1.5 million and were rapidly heading toward 2 million.

Several trending topics surged onto Weibo's charts in the middle of the night.

"Singing King Han Hong"

"Yuan Wanqing: Rekindled from Ashes, the Uncrowned Queen"

"Mother and Daughter"

"A Diao"

"You Are a Free Bird"

"Who is Chongran?"

Seeing her own topic still rank within the top fifteen, Li Luo couldn't help but smirk, thinking these people had far too much curiosity.

The Singing King has been announced—why are they still interested in some minor writer like me?

"It's such a pity—Auntie Yuan didn't win Singing King?" Ying Chanxi leaned against Li Luo, sounding disappointed.

"It's fine—it matches my plot perfectly," Li Luo smiled.

"Did you already know she wouldn't win Singing King?" Xu Youyu asked curiously. "Otherwise why didn't you let Mo Qinghan win it in the novel?"

"I didn't know that," Li Luo shook his head. "I only knew someone had a contract guaranteeing a finals spot—but whether the Singing King was predetermined, I have no idea."

"As for the novel… Mo Qinghan is still young. Once she wins the Singing King title, readers will feel her career has reached its peak."

"In writing, you must avoid this—leave room for future plotlines. Otherwise, if you give her a big win now, you'll have nothing left to write after."

"You're really cruel," Xu Youyu rolled her eyes.

"How is that cruel? It's just online novel tropes," Li Luo chuckled. "It's like my friend's novel 'Literary Era'—when she wrote the male lead winning his first Best Actor award, the impact was strongest."

"But when he wins it again, then a third time, the readers' satisfaction keeps diminishing."

At this point, you can only try to create new pleasure points—like shifting focus from the demand for Best Actor to achieving box office success in commercial films.

In short, you need a new handle to control reader expectations and effectively manage their threshold, or else you'll lose control and readers will stop after this climax.

"You talk as if you know everything…" Xu Youyu muttered, suddenly feeling guilty after being pointed out; she stole a glance at Ying Chanxi beside her and, seeing no suspicion on her face, relaxed slightly, then pinched Li Luo under the covers in a huff.

At that moment, Li Luo's phone rang again.

He picked it up and saw it was Yan Zhusheng calling.

Li Luo answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Li Luo, I miss you…" Yan Zhusheng paused suddenly, then corrected herself, "I miss all of you."

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" Li Luo asked.

"Mm-hmm." Yan Zhusheng nodded. "Morning flight."

"Will you come to school tomorrow?" Ying Chanxi asked curiously.

"Probably not?" Yan Zhusheng thought for a moment.

"There's a club activity Saturday afternoon," Li Luo reminded her. "If you can make it, you should go to the rock club."

"Oh." Yan Zhusheng nodded. "Then I'll go in the afternoon."

"Is Aunt Yuan nearby?" Xu Youyu asked curiously.

"She is." Yan Zhusheng said. "Mom, it's Li Luo on the phone."

"Oh, you called?" Yuan Wanqing's voice came from the other end.

"Aunt Yuan, congratulations on second place," Li Luo said with a smile.

Ying Chanxi and Xu Youyu beside him also offered their congratulations in turn.

Yuan Wanqing laughed on the other side: "Isn't this all thanks to you? I heard people have already approached you to write songs?"

"There's some truth to that."

"If you have good songs, don't rush to sell them—I can ask around in the industry for you," Yuan Wanqing considered carefully. "I'll be having dinner with Teacher Han Hong and others soon."

"Besides the results, the real gain from this Singer show is these connections."

"If they're interested, they'll pay far more generously than ordinary entertainment companies, and the chance of making the song popular will be much higher."

"Understood." Li Luo nodded. "If I get a new song, I'll give it to Zhusheng first."

"Right," Yan Zhusheng nodded beside him. "I'll listen first, then give it to Mom."

"Whatever," Yuan Wanqing chuckled. "Just don't sell it lightly—your songs are worth a fortune now."

Yan Zhusheng took the phone back from Yuan Wanqing and chatted with Li Luo and the other three for a while longer.

Only when Yuan Wanqing pulled her away to attend an evening banquet did she hang up with Li Luo.

"Hey, check your backend," Xu Youyu urged as soon as Li Luo ended the call.

Li Luo opened his author backend and showed her the data.

Seeing Li Luo's current average subscription of 45,000, Xu Youyu couldn't help but gasp—she was truly envious.

But since Ying Chanxi was beside her, Xu Youyu merely expressed mild surprise, avoiding any sign of expertise.

Still, given Li Luo's growth rate, once this wave of Singer finals' heat and traffic fully settles, his average subscription will surely break 50,000.

That's fifty thousand average subscriptions!

Fifty thousand average subscriptions in 2015!

Honestly, even Li Luo now felt as if he were dreaming.

After all, fifty thousand average subscriptions ten years later, while no longer rare, still marked one as a major figure.

But now, fifty thousand average subscriptions was merely the main site's performance—under the current version, the channel sites were even more explosive.

Fifty thousand average subscriptions on the main site usually meant channel sites would be even more extreme.

Especially since I Am Really Not a Star was riding the full-web explosion of heat.

Talking about Singer Season Three meant talking about Yuan Wanqing.

And talking about Yuan Wanqing meant bringing up Chongran, who had written her entire new album—nine smash-hit songs.

And talking about Chongran meant recommending his novels.

Especially since his novel contained a singer competition nearly identical to reality, even matching the exact process.

As a result, even people who never read Online Novels would, upon recommendation, jump directly to the plot where Mo Qinghan joins Singer and start reading from there.

During this period, the average subscription for Mo Qinghan's arc had already reached nearly the same level as Chongran's overall average.

You could imagine how many readers had been drawn in just to watch the spectacle.

As for where I Am Really Not a Star's final performance would land, it still depended on where its numbers stabilized after this wave of heat passed.

But at this stage, Chongran's novel was unstoppable.

Not just on channel sites, but even on the main site, where top authors gathered, I Am Really Not a Star had, thanks to this overwhelming wave of heat, firmly claimed the top spot for monthly votes and sales across the entire platform—unshakable.

"With this momentum, if Qidian doesn't sign you to a Platinum contract next year, it'll be impossible to explain," Xu Youyu muttered in awe.

"Let it happen naturally—when the time comes, it'll come," Li Luo said, closing his laptop and setting it aside before lying down. "Sleep, sleep. Senior, turn off the bedside light."

"Why don't you let us go back to our own rooms?" Xu Youyu turned off the light, crawled into bed, and whispered playfully beside Li Luo's ear.

Li Luo chuckled, wrapped both arms around the two girls, and pulled them into his embrace. "Didn't I say before? If you can't resist it, learn to enjoy it—you won't go back to sleep anyway."

"Who said I didn't want to go back to sleep…" Ying Chanxi, pulled into Li Luo's arms, couldn't see anything in the pitch-black room and assumed he was holding only her—her heart fluttered, yet she whispered softly, "It's just that we're already lying here; going back would be too much trouble."

"Yes, yes, so go to sleep," Li Luo murmured, lying amid warm, soft bodies; the feel of the two girls' rounded shoulders was different yet delightful, making him want to touch them again.

Xu Youyu let out a soft laugh and did something mischievous under the covers.

Ying Chanxi, however, was obedient—when Li Luo said sleep, she truly slept.

……

The next day, Li Luo accompanied Ying Chanxi as usual on their morning run around the school track.

When Lin Suifeng saw them, he couldn't help running up and asking, "Senior."

"What's wrong?"

"Will Senior Yan come back today? We have a club activity this afternoon."

"She'll come back."

Hearing that Yan Zhusheng would return, Lin Suifeng immediately brightened.

But Lin Suifeng wasn't pursuing Yan Zhusheng anymore—he simply felt like a fan chasing a star.

After all, last night in the dorm, several guys had huddled together watching a live stream of Yan Zhusheng singing a duet with Yuan Wanqing on stage.

Now, to see the real person again, the feeling was indescribable.

And since he learned Li Luo was Chongran, and Yan Zhusheng had spoken so much about Chongran on the show, Lin Suifeng now understood Yan Zhusheng's stance.

What's the point of chasing her?

If you've got guts, write a song like "Ru Yuan."

"Ru Yuan" is utterly impossible to write—you'd at best manage something like "Ru Yuan."

With Li Luo standing like a monster in front of him, Lin Suifeng had no more delusions—he just wanted to stay in the rock club.

Nothing else—just curiosity.

In the end, which one will Senior Li Luo choose: Mo Qinghan or Shen Dongdong?

Lin Suifeng, who had stayed up late studying the Class Eight Bible, watched Li Luo and Ying Chanxi walk away after their morning run, thinking this.

Oh, no—it should be called the Fuyi High School Bible now.

…

Li Luo naturally had no idea what his junior was thinking.

After returning to the classroom, Ying Chanxi naturally sat in Yan Zhusheng's seat.

After all, Yan Zhusheng would return in the afternoon; today's morning self-study was her last chance to sit beside Li Luo.

But Ying Chanxi hadn't expected this.

Just as the last class of the morning began, a figure walked in through the front door.

The bell had just rung, and everyone was already seated.

So when Yan Zhusheng stepped inside, every eye in the class snapped to her.

But Yan Zhusheng didn't look at anyone else—she walked straight toward Li Luo, her gaze fixed solely on him.

Yet halfway there, she noticed someone sitting in her own seat and stopped dead in her tracks.

In that moment, Class Eight fell utterly silent.

The veteran Class Eight students, well-versed in the Class Eight Bible, wore expressions of pure entertainment.

Zhu Yufei and Zhang Guohuang had even placed private bets.

"Fight, fight, fight…" Zhang Guohuang muttered under his breath.

"Don't you trust the monitor's ability to handle people?" Zhu Yufei chuckled, sneering.

Under this atmosphere, Yan Zhusheng took another step forward and arrived beside the seat where Ying Chanxi now sat.