Chapter 39: A Glimmer of Li Tingzhou’s Shadow

Zhong Peiyao’s arrival did indeed lighten the mood.

She was a very likable girl, different from First Sister’s approachable warmth. Zhong Peiyao’s charm lay in her unpretentious nature, her thoroughness, and her strong professional skills. On top of that, her voice was as crisp and pleasant as a yellow oriole, effortlessly winning people over, yet her attitude remained neither obsequious nor arrogant.

Mao Maoyu apologized for his earlier assessment. “A junior sister really does take better care of her senior brother.”

He could even glimpse a bit of Li Tingzhou’s shadow in her.

It was a mix of confidence, enjoyment, and composure. Mao Maoyu couldn’t find a single word to describe it, but Dai Jier told him: this is what they call being unflappable.

Being unflappable wasn’t about being perpetually lazy; it was about control—releasing and pulling back with ease, and being resolute.

Comparisons always highlight strengths.

Next to Li Li, a woman who seemed to arm herself down to her very aura, down to the precise angle of every smile and frown, Zhong Peiyao came across as refreshingly straightforward.

Beyond that, there was one more thing Ren Shiyu found thoroughly satisfying: Zhong Peiyao never forgot her role. In the orchestra, she was the undisputed Concertmaster, deserving of the spotlight. But on the stage of “A Courtyard of Fragrance,” she was there only to use her violin to paint the spirit of the white peony, everything revolving around the male-female duet.

Dai Jier called himself a simple man, and simple men had simple standards.

“The Central Arts Troupe is famous, sure, but does that automatically make their First Chair better than everyone else’s?”

Mao Maoyu understood him. After exchanging a look, he added, “There’s only ever one star on stage—no, wait, two. The two holding the microphones.”

On the afternoon of the rehearsal day, First Sister and Mengmeng’s group drew an early slot.

But by now, the performance order barely affected them.

Zhong Peiyao was also in full makeup, waiting backstage, looking graceful and elegantly chic. Though intensely curious about everything in the main broadcast hall, she stayed close behind her senior brother, her eyes fixed on his back.

Mao Maoyu’s green hair had faded to a slightly lighter spring-onion green, still very conspicuous.

Zhong Peiyao watched Mengmeng; Mao Maoyu watched Zhong Peiyao.

Dai Jier was on high alert. “Don’t even think about it. Keep your hands off the people close to you.”

“Relax, I’m just observing if they have that kind of chemistry~”

“I don’t see it.”

All three of Mengmeng’s girlfriends since his heart first fluttered had been older women. No matter their true nature, they’d all shown extreme tenderness and grace during the relationship, proving his taste hadn’t changed in years.

No matter how Dai Jier looked at it, Zhong Peiyao didn’t fit that mold.

Besides, their relationship was firmly defined. Mengmeng didn’t have a girlfriend of ten years, but he did have a junior sister he’d known for just as long.

For him, this bond of school fellowship was also very important.

Zhong Peiyao hadn’t asked about performance fees, nor whether her travel expenses would be reimbursed, traveling a long distance just to accompany her senior brother on stage. Likewise, Mengmeng often cut in line to arrange music for the J City Philharmonic. When Zhong Peiyao managed her social media, she’d sometimes get Mengmeng to tweak arrangements for her—and those were always special sessions from her senior brother…

Clearly, Mengmeng was someone who deeply valued relationships.

“Why do you think you got into Heartbreak?”

Not that Heartbreak was some incredibly prestigious, earth-shattering unit, anyway.

The topic lent itself to easy associations, and Dai Jier naturally thought of Mao Maoyu.

Mao Maoyu hadn’t been particularly outstanding in his early university days. Sometime in his second or third year, after missing a scholarship by a single spot, something clicked. He not only began striving to catch up but also applied and got into a master’s program at his dream university.

There, he saw far too many geniuses.

Surrounded by them, an average person who couldn’t learn to reconcile themselves would find the experience a nightmare. Even gregarious Mao Maoyu needed time to come to terms with it all. After that, he happily accepted his limits and found contentment.

“Don’t tell me the person who helped you come to terms was Mengmeng?”

Mao Maoyu shrugged. “Not completely. Figuring it out yourself is more important.”

He gave a “you know how it is” look.

“Because most geniuses can’t truly empathize with ordinary people from their perspective. For example, a score you have to wrestle with for three or four days, he gets it almost perfectly just by running through it once. Worse, he might even think, ‘Is Mao Maoyu just loafing around? Why isn’t he done yet?’”

Dai Jier pointed towards the stage. “See? But he’s willing to mentor Zhong Peiyao.”

Treated so differently, Mao Maoyu was overcome with feigned indignation. He marched forward, ready to demand an explanation, only to overhear them discussing minor tips on how to appear more defined on camera, making facial contours clearer instead of being washed out by dozens of stage lights.

Truth was, Li Tingzhou’s experience in this area was also limited.

The reason he could even summarize these “tips” was that Li Tingzhou himself was a handsome little figure meticulously crafted by the goddess Nüwa: good proportions, defined bone structure, smooth features. A camera caught him looking good even from tricky angles.

Mao Maoyu slunk back. “I’m a clown.”

~

The rehearsal ended smoothly. If it weren’t for tomorrow’s performance, everyone could have happily watched the third public performance livestream without a care tonight.

After wrap, Wang Chao rushed over to Mengmeng’s room.

Once there, he subconsciously composed his expression to greet Zhong Peiyao.

She was far more relaxed than him. “You’ll probably have to wait a bit for my senior brother.”

Mao Maoyu and Dai Jier had also prepared snacks, late-night bites, even seafood congee substantial enough to be a meal (Mengmeng had been liking that lately). They’d invited First Sister too, but Vice President Zhou had arrived and pulled her aside to discuss something.

“Where’s Mengmeng?”

“He went out to pick someone up.”

“Who else is coming? Where are they? Two more ads and it starts.”

His heart swelling with the heroic spirit of “Heartbreak ruling the music world is just around the corner,” Mao Maoyu declared proudly, “Mengmeng’s classmate, a very, very good classmate. You might be calling him ‘Music Godfather’ before long.”

At the same moment, in the elevator.

After picking up Eldan, Li Tingzhou noticed that, despite the heartbreak, he was practically glowing. Even after a long-haul flight, Eldan’s hair was shiny and smooth, and he carried the faint scent of aftershave.

A quintessential, impeccably groomed Slavic man.

Even though he hadn’t shaken off the shadow of the breakup, he stubbornly maintained his dignity.

“I know what you’re going to ask. My defense recital went well. Don’t worry, in another month, I should receive my degree certificate.”

Li Tingzhou chuckled. “Honestly, in our line of work, a degree doesn’t really matter.”

Whether in the music circle or inner entertainment, illiteracy was abundant.

But Eldan shook his head seriously. “NO, I’ve been reading Little Red Book. The active users there are all at least university graduates. That’s terrifying! Think about it, anyone you pick randomly on the street could potentially replace my function. I forgot to ask, do the others at Heartbreak know I’m joining?”

“You’re the Director of Heartbreak’s Foreign Affairs Office. You’ve been a Heartbreaker for ages.”

Eldan’s Chinese was passable, but not fully. “Oh, that is very good.”

His job was secure.

A knock on the door was answered by Mao Maoyu. “Mengmeng’s back! And this foreign devil— Wait, you’re Eldan? Damn, is this for real? How are you still this handsome…”

Clearly, everyone in the room was stunned by Eldan’s looks.

Unlike Mengmeng’s universally appealing, handsome flair that any Chinese person could appreciate, Eldan was the type you’d be momentarily floored by when scrolling through short videos and stumbling upon a gorgeous foreign guy—especially since he was so impeccably clean and presentable, not looking at all like someone who’d just flown over ten hours.

As Eldan walked in, that sense of impact intensified.

His voice was deeper than expected; two more tones down and it might’ve rumbled into a string of vocal fry, yet what he said was somehow comical.

Probably from spending too much time with Mengmeng, Eldan’s Chinese intonation was more normal than imagined, roughly at an 80% level. He said, “Hello, everyone. My name is Eldan. I’m from Russia. I have half M Country blood, but that doesn’t matter. Coming to China, I’ll follow local customs. You can call me by my Chinese name, Li Fushun.”

Someone couldn’t hold back and let out the first snort of laughter.

Then came Zhong Peiyao, who seemed to be struggling hard. “Li Fushun?”

Eldan explained solemnly, “The Li is Li Tingzhou’s Li, Fu is for good fortune and happiness, Shun is for smoothness and success. I like this meaning very much.”

Dai Jier nudged Mengmeng with his elbow. “Swear you didn’t mislead him?”

Li Tingzhou’s face was deadpan. “I once suggested he call himself ‘Li Sufan.’ I told him Su was a simple yet inclusive character, and Fan meant roughly the same. Following some of our naming customs, giving a smaller name can mean a longer life; when talent is exceedingly high, a grand name can backfire…”

But that wasn’t Eldan’s style.

Just look at the lyrics he wrote, things like, “Girl you’re so bad, you drive me crazy,” or “The kiss you gave as you left, does it mean to be continued?”—it was clear his literary taste was hard to redirect.

So Li Fushun was the name Eldan picked, characters and all.

After the laughter settled, everyone gathered cozily to watch the show. Li Tingzhou gave him the seafood congee. “Here, for the sake of your stomach, eat something light for your first meal after landing.”

Eldan—no, Comrade Li Fushun—nodded. “Don’t worry, my stomach is made of iron.”

He took a couple bites; the taste was indeed good, and he began slurping it down.

Only Mao Maoyu, after his initial excitement, was now tinged with mild sadness. Just minutes ago, he’d been bragging to Wang Chao about Heartbreak’s powerhouse production team, and now he couldn’t smile at all.

“I ordered that congee specifically for Mengmeng, but Mengmeng gave it to him.”

Dai Jier whispered to console him, “By order of arrival, you were the one who came later…”

Mao Maoyu: “Your words are so hurtful.”

On the TV, “Sing My Heart Tonight” Season 7 started its opening sequence. After a brief 20-second recap, it entered the preparation phase for the third public performance. Zheng Bing and Junko appeared on screen one after another.

Eldan watched for a moment and commented, “Your partner has really good vocal talent.”

Obvious, wasn’t it?

Ren Shiyu, a complete amateur, was scouted and cultivated by Diamond precisely because her voice was inherently excellent. Even a simple, unaccompanied line during synthesis with Li Tingzhou was incredibly pleasing.

“Born with a golden voice.”

Eldan took a few seconds to digest the idiom before commenting on Zhuang Yifan. “His voice sounds like it already has reverb. But he seems difficult to get along with.” Yet, after seeing Zhuang Yifan’s gaze towards Li Tingzhou in the mid-progress check meeting, he quickly revised his impression. “Tingzhou, he has very bad intentions towards you.”

Except for Zhong Peiyao, who was still processing, everyone else turned sharply to stare at Eldan!

Especially Ancient Style King. “What? What do you mean, bad intentions?”

Repeating the question usually didn’t mean someone hadn’t heard or understood. On the contrary, it was precisely because they understood that they were so shocked, repeating the words to delay absorbing the information.

Li Tingzhou looked at Eldan. “You didn’t have to say it out loud.”

Eldan insisted, “No matter what, please take me to the performance venue tomorrow. I need to see what’s going on with this person.” He then took off his outer shirt, revealing a black tank top covering an extremely lean and powerful upper body.

Episode Four continued to play. Each group had its own storyline this episode, running in parallel.

For well-known reasons, the editing for Mengmeng and First Sister’s group was very cautious.

A fair number of netizens knew the leadership had inspected the third public performance at the Spirit Confluence Hall, but not every viewer watched the news, and not even all news-watchers tuned into Blue Ocean TV’s evening news. So the production team still crafted a timeline highlighting how the “fortunate” Mengmeng-First Sister group had worked so hard to meet the inspection requirements.

What qualified as “a colorful black” or “a radiant, flowing white”?

To meet all demands, Mengmeng nearly had to rewrite “A Woman’s Heart” entirely!

Eldan watched intently, finding issues everywhere. “I’ve heard the Cantonese version. Probably an old disc from a record store from the last century. After the translation, the lyrics are much easier to understand.”

Li Tingzhou sighed. “Easy to understand? It was too easy to understand, so we had to change it.”

All that love, passion, hatred, regret—the leadership didn’t want to hear about that.

Oh, speaking of lyrics that were too plain or crude, Li Tingzhou untimely recalled someone else, also a bit of a little stickler, as if hearing or seeing such words would directly conjure images in their mind…

~

Night Heart Seven Bot:

[Main Poster’s Ramblings – 689]

Starting from the third public performance, Mengmeng’s workload has visibly undergone a qualitative change.

First Sister’s song choices don’t lean towards heavy technique displays; the difficulty ceiling is fixed there. No matter how you sing it, it’s only 70, 80 points. To enrich the effect, every episode, Mengmeng’s storyline is about “how to stuff a bun/steamed bun/wrap with all kinds of delicious fillings,” and then feeding it to First Sister.

He can’t interfere with the Main Guest’s song choices, but he can control the final product.

He just kept feeding her like this, forcing her all the way to the Season 7 Championship.

-First Sister’s fans are behaving now, haha, only held out for one episode.

-Other groups brought their own teams too, why didn’t they produce results?

-Because the other groups are working for the boss, while Mengmeng is fighting for himself.

-Absolutely, that’s exactly it!

-Mengmeng has sung his way into value. Watching him go from under a million followers to four million now, his scenes are mysteriously interesting, especially the mid-term check meeting this episode. It’s clearly boring enough to yawn, then he suddenly finds something to do and starts cleaning his glasses. I bet that’ll get made into a GIF…

-So cute, Mengmeng fans really eat well.

-Husband-material Mengmeng, especially the chin tilt when he had First Sister test the sound.

-“Passionate but not too noisy,” why not just go pray for that at Yonghe Temple?

-If the Diamond Boss Lady herself came, would she even recognize her song?

-A little tricycle pimped out into a Maybach.

-First Sister’s enjoying singing again…

~

[When to Criminalize Lip-syncing and Fake Playing | The Master of Feeding Rice Reinvents “A Woman’s Heart”]

————

I was so shocked the first time I saw the fansite photos on Weibo. Are we even listening to the same “A Woman’s Heart”? I felt like First Sister was about to tear off her skirt and start fighting on stage next second. “A Warrior Woman’s Heart” would be more fitting.

But the official cam effect is amazing. I suddenly think this song is incredible again.

Even with the last-minute key change, First Sister and Mengmeng’s group, which took first place in this public performance, really did go all-out in every aspect, with live atmosphere to back it up. Most importantly, the adaptation elevated the style. The original was 2 minutes 48 seconds; the adapted version reaches 3 minutes 21 seconds. Richer in structure and higher in completeness.

First Sister: How can days be the same no matter who you’re with?

1L: The original does feel like it ends abruptly, but you can still sing your heart out with it.

6L: You can’t really sing about love and longing in front of the officials, right?

15L: The section Mengmeng sang in the middle is god-tier among gods. He used this kind of timbre for the first time, it felt so expensive, like a Maybach or some other luxury car just ran over me, cold and noble, leaving me only a view of its taillights…

19L: First Sister wanted, First Sister got. Mengmeng, I’m literally crying.

28L: What’s great about this song is it hits the theme! Mengmeng really understands a woman’s heart!

39L: Repost //@Night Heart Seven Bot: Five ingenious adaptation ideas for “A Woman’s Heart”…

46L: Are you just rewriting from our group’s post?

…

99L [Group Leader]: I’ve already contacted the bot. It’s replaced the text-based material I provided (watermarked version) and added attribution. The link was a friend’s own quick transcription, which got edited out by the bot because it might have infringed.

104L: Group Leader, your friend could apply to Heartbreak!

108L: +1, that guy’s got some real skill.

109L [Group Leader]: Thanks for the encouragement. They’ve already applied and are currently waiting for the results.

120L: Best of luck getting in!

126L: Once they succeed, they’ll be our group’s new insider connection!