Chapter 11
The moment Fang Huai lowered his eyelashes, many people present sensed something.
His aura—had changed.
A few judges put down their phones, sat up straight, and looked at him with newfound interest. Ren Ping narrowed his eyes.
The change wasn’t dramatic, but it was undeniable. If before, Fang Huai had given off the impression of a clean, innocent, and harmless young man, then in that fleeting moment when he closed his eyes—something had shifted.
Soft light caught on his lashes, and he fell into a quiet stillness.
He wasn’t smiling, his expression was focused—yet people couldn’t look away. It was as if he had suddenly developed an inexplicable pull. The vast emptiness of the gymnasium seemed to become his domain, the air itself slowing, and even the floating dust settled gently in place.
Fang Huai kept his eyes closed.
With sight cut off, his hearing became sharper. He could hear the distant sound of dewdrops slipping off blades of grass, the chatter of pedestrians, a stray cat stepping lightly across roof tiles. And then, all those sounds faded away.
It felt like standing inside a tunnel—city noise gradually dissolving until, once again, the mountain winds from years ago brushed against his brow. And then, a long-forgotten melody surfaced in his mind.
Fang Huai loved to sing.
He really, really loved it.
“Cub’s Song” was just something he had made up on a whim. He had sung it so many times that it had become second nature. But it wasn’t the only song he had ever written.
Not even close.
Since he was little, inspiration had always come to him from unexpected places—the moss growing on a wall, the rain trickling down a rooftop, the softness of a small animal’s belly.
Countless melodies passed through his mind, and in the vast stillness, one particular tune emerged.
A gentle song.
One about faint heartbeats and quiet breathing. About a sudden summer rainstorm in the evening. About life that refuses to wither away, even when born into the smallest of existences.
Many years ago, on a drizzly early summer night, Fang Huai had found a small animal.
It was filthy, its heartbeat so weak it was barely detectable. But its bright, wet eyes were filled with unyielding defiance as it stared at him, its breaths growing fainter with each passing second.
That night, after the little creature had fallen asleep, Fang Huai sat beside it, waiting for Fang Jianguo to return home. And in that quiet moment, a melody surfaced in his mind.
It took shape quickly, weaving itself together. In mere moments, it had become a complete song.
This song.
The boy with closed eyes parted his lips slightly and sang the first line:
“When every thread of softness is woven into a dream—”
Just that one line.
And it was like an electric current had shot through the room.
The judges felt it rush through their ears, sending a tingling sensation all the way down their spines!
Such a pure, striking voice—such an exceptionally rare vocal tone. Clear, yet not too thin. The melody, carried by his unique timbre, seemed to ripple endlessly, leaving a lingering resonance.
With just one line, he had pulled everyone into his world, drawing them into the same frequency of vibration.
Like a thousand springs suddenly surging into the sea.
Like all the rainwater in the world pouring down at once.
One judge nearly dropped their phone. Another choked on a sip of water. The head judge’s eyes widened slightly in involuntary surprise.
Almost everyone in the room had seen that viral video online—they had all heard Cub’s Song.
That song had already been impressive. But back then, his voice had not reached the level of breathtaking power it held now.
Fang Huai was growing at a speed no one had imagined. Or perhaps—this had been his true strength all along?
Ren Ping froze for a moment, and in the next instant, his face turned ashen.
If it were just the Cub’s Song version of Fang Huai, he was confident he could completely outshine him… but this—what the hell was this?!
Even the judges were now looking at Ren Ping with a hint of pity.
The song Fang Huai was singing wasn’t in the folk or traditional Chinese style; its melody leaned more toward modern music. But its core focus was the same as Ren Ping’s—clean, gentle.
And in terms of purity, Fang Huai’s unique vocal tone completely surpassed Ren Ping. Compared to Ren Ping’s mix of ancient-style medleys, Fang Huai’s song carried a deeper, more profound meaning—a tune that resonated with the soul.
Simply put, not only had Ren Ping been utterly crushed, but even his supposed strengths had turned into weaknesses in the presence of Fang Huai’s god-tier voice!
Ren Ping’s expression darkened, his face tinged with green. It felt like he had been slapped—hard. His features twisted slightly with jealousy.
If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he would have suspected Fang Huai was lip-syncing. How else could this be possible? A migrant worker, with no formal training or professional guidance… calling him a genius wouldn’t even be an exaggeration. But why him? Why should Fang Huai, of all people, be this exception—this once-in-a-lifetime rarity?
But Ren Ping quickly forced himself to calm down. So what if he sings well? Fang Huai had no special talents beyond this, and he was just a poor nobody. In this era, where capital reigns supreme, a broke migrant worker wasn’t even worthy of shining Ye’s shoes…
Meanwhile, Fang Huai’s singing continued.
The judges were utterly captivated, so much so that they didn’t even spare Ren Ping another glance.
By the third line, Fang Huai finally opened his eyes.
He stood in the vast, silent gymnasium, his voice echoing in layers—like heartbeats and breaths reverberating through time. His light amber eyes were as clear as if they had been washed clean, and as his eyelids slowly lifted, they shimmered with a soft radiance.
This was a song he had written for the little animal he had once cared for.
It was called “Heartbeat.”
The judges listened in silence—some tapping along to the rhythm, some closing their eyes to savor the melody.
And then, as if struck by a sudden realization, the head judge’s eyes widened. A distant memory surfaced—a melody they had heard two years ago while abroad.
Dust drifted slowly through the air.
As Fang Huai sang, time seemed to stretch and slow, pulling everyone into his unique rhythm. For a fleeting moment, they could hear it—the distant patter of rain against a rooftop, the faint pulse of a heartbeat, the soft cadence of breathing.
But the melody was far from dull or monotonous. It gradually simmered with emotion, evolving from its initial softness into a slow-burning warmth, like dry firewood catching flame—growing hotter and hotter until it was about to reach its climax—
Just one second before the chorus, Ren Ping suddenly let out a loud, deliberate cough.
“Time’s up,” he said, face grim as he pointed at his watch. “Two minutes.”
The judges: “……”
Fang Huai: “……”
The song came to an abrupt halt.
The gymnasium, which had just been wrapped in the humid embrace of rain-soaked air, instantly reverted to its bland, ordinary self. The sudden silence was almost eerie.
One of the judges slammed the table and shot to his feet, furious. “Are you f**king—”
“Alright, alright.”
Another judge quickly stopped him.
What Ren Ping did was undeniably disruptive, but technically, he wasn’t wrong. The time limit was two minutes—every contestant had the same restriction, and allowing an extension for anyone would be unfair.
But Fang Huai’s song had completely altered their perception of time. With just a few lines, he had transported everyone into his world. The gymnasium floor had transformed into stone slabs, the air carried the scent of mountain rain and twilight breezes. It felt like being immersed in an impossibly vivid, breathtaking sunset after a storm.
And just as the chorus was about to begin—it was cut off.
…To put it bluntly, the feeling was unbearable. Like being left hanging mid-climax. Like… being impotent.
No wonder that judge was so angry. Many others also looked displeased, but they had no valid reason to argue.
Not far away.
While Fang Huai was singing—
A Maybach quietly pulled up outside the gym. The car door opened, and a man stepped out in silence.
This was a private entrance, cleared in advance, so there were no bystanders around.
From a small gap in the nearby door, the unique sound of the boy’s voice poured out—carrying the dampness of early summer rain in the mountains, swept along by a crisp evening breeze. It was impossibly beautiful.
Ye Yuyuan stood still, saying nothing.
His gaze lowered slightly, his dark eyes clouded with a faint mist. It was the season for white magnolias to bloom in Nan City, and a few petals drifted down onto his shoulder—but Ye Yuyuan didn’t seem to notice.
He listened to the song, silent and intent.
His secretary, Wang Qiang, stood beside him, not daring to say a word. He could tell that Ye Yuyuan’s emotions were… complicated.
They were originally on their way to a dinner meeting but had stopped midway. At first, when Ye Yuyuan heard the singing, he seemed to be in a good mood. But the longer he listened, the more his expression darkened.
That being said, the song was stunning. Even Wang Qiang himself found himself entranced.
Then, all of a sudden, Ye Yuyuan, who had been silent the entire time, murmured, “This song is called ‘Heartbeat.’”
It was beautiful.
But it wasn’t written for him.
At that thought, the man’s dark eyes dimmed, and his thin lips pressed into a straight line.
“Oh.” Wang Qiang didn’t quite understand but carefully observed his boss’s expression.
“……”
Wait.
Was it just him, or did Ye Yuyuan look… a little wronged?
*
The preliminary auditions were over. Fang Huai and Ren Ping walked out of the gymnasium.
As they made their way outside, Ren Ping glared at Fang Huai with a face as dark as thunder, all the while repeatedly convincing himself—He and I aren’t even in the same league. Taking a migrant worker as my competition? Isn’t that beneath me?
Fang Huai: “…?”
“Are your eyes uncomfortable?” Fang Huai thought for a moment before kindly pointing it out. “They look a little red.”
They were red—bloodshot, even. Just looking at them seemed painful.
Ren Ping: “…!”
Was he indirectly calling him jealous?!
His hands trembled with rage.
The other contestants outside had no idea what had happened inside. Seeing the two of them walk out with such strange expressions, they couldn’t help but feel curious.
Sensing the attention on him, Ren Ping quickly calmed himself down.
His thumb lightly rubbed the watch on his wrist—a limited edition Ptah smart watch that he’d gotten by pure chance. The touch of it finally soothed him a little. His expression gradually returned to one of arrogance and pride as he straightened his collar.
“Ren Ping,” another contestant came up to him, winking. “So? That migrant worker must’ve been a total mess, right?”
Ren Ping’s smile froze for a second before he forced out, “Yeah, a total mess.”
…A spectacular mess!
But he couldn’t say that. How humiliating would that be?!
“Let’s not talk about that.” Ren Ping waved his hand dismissively, lying without hesitation. “Brother Ye invited my dad to dinner tonight. I still have to go back and prepare.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” The contestant looked envious.
After speaking, Ren Ping casually glanced at Fang Huai, expecting to see some kind of admiration or jealousy on his face.
The corner of the area was relatively empty. Other than Ren Ping and Fang Huai, there were only a handful of contestants scattered around. After exiting the audition, Fang Huai had sat down on one of the seats at the side, silent.
Ren Ping grew even more smug, assuming that Fang Huai was so envious he had been rendered speechless. But when he took a closer look—
Fang Huai’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady. His eyelashes cast faint shadows over his light-colored eyes, and the corners of his lips were naturally relaxed.
…In just two minutes, he had actually fallen asleep.
Was the conversation that boring?!
Ren Ping: “I %?%#*…”
Forget it, he thought.
A nobody like Fang Huai, a bottom-feeding ant, would never get the chance to even meet someone like Ye Yuyuan in his lifetime. Maybe he was actually feeling embarrassed and ashamed, pretending to sleep just to avoid the awkwardness?
Thinking this way, Ren Ping suddenly felt a lot better. Even the frustration from being overshadowed by Fang Huai during the audition dissipated. The contestant beside him was still curiously asking about Ye Yuyuan:
“For real? You guys are actually having dinner? Does your family really have a partnership with Ptah?”
“We probably will in the future.” Ren Ping deliberately acted reserved. “Not yet, but Brother Ye… might appreciate me. He invites my dad to dinner often.”
“Holy sh*t.”
The contestant’s eyes widened in shock, his expression filled with astonishment, envy, and disbelief.
Ren Ping froze.
Simply saying that Ye Yuyuan admired him shouldn’t have been that surprising, right? But the flattery and admiration of others always gave him an immense sense of satisfaction. The more he basked in it, the more animated he became. He deliberately maintained a casual tone: “It’s really nothing. In fact, Brother Ye doesn’t just admire me, he also—”
“Ye…” the contestant murmured.
“Ye?!” Ren Ping’s eyebrow twitched.
All of a sudden, he realized something. His entire body stiffened.
Behind him.
A tall, impeccably dressed man stood in silence.
And in his arms—carefully cradled—was the very same boy whom Ren Ping had just mocked as ‘trash’ and a ‘lowly ant.’
The boy was sleeping soundly, nestled against him.
The man’s movements were impossibly gentle, as if he were holding the most precious thing in the world. But in stark contrast to that tenderness were his eyes.
Those pitch-black eyes, cold as frost, rested on Ren Ping with an indifferent, detached gaze. After a long pause, his thin lips parted slightly, a hint of derision flickering in his eyes as he spoke in a quiet, almost dismissive tone, “Admire you?”
“…And who are you?”
Ren Ping had turned completely to stone.
Haha that was embarrassing. Bragging about something and then bam! Truth hurts
I have a serious case of second hand embarrassment for this ran ping dude ??????