I Said It All Along
In the backstage corridor, Zhao Quan sat in a daze.He had no idea what just happened. Even with the translation earpiece, most of the conversation on stage earlier was too complex for him to follow.
Maybe the applause was for Chu Zhi's bold vision, or maybe it was because they had just witnessed the birth of a new musical genre. Either way, the clapping went on for half a minute before finally settling down.
Even Vegas looked stunned. All he wanted was to hear the story behind Chrysanthemum Terrace. He never expected to pull a nuclear bomb out of a conversation.
But once he recovered, joy rushed to his head. He could already imagine it—when people write the history of New Zhongguo Feng, his name would be there as one of the origin points.
Yes, it was now official: New Zhongguo Feng was born. And it happened during his exchange with Chu Zhi. Even as one of the founding editors of Lyrics Journal, Vegas couldn't hold back his excitement.
"This is definitely something new," Vegas followed up, still riding the high. "It's distinct from traditional pop music."
"Zhongguo Feng can incorporate pop, rock, soul, rap, and more. With new ideas and arrangements, it can appeal to a wider audience," Chu Zhi said.
"Three Classics and Three Moderns create the foundation for New Zhongguo Feng. I can only imagine how much work Teacher Chu has put into promoting and preserving traditional culture."Vegas had just publicly acknowledged that Chu Zhi had founded a new genre.
As a scholar of lyrics, Vegas knew there were other songs in the Gong mode. The parallel world's music development wasn't that limited. But Chu Zhi's Chrysanthemum Terrace wasn't just any attempt—it was a refined, complete realization of the idea, packaged with a cohesive concept. That made all the difference.
He sat down with satisfaction, already deciding that Lyrics Journal's next issue would center around New Zhongguo Feng.
Meanwhile, WizardFirst and Smokestyle, sitting beside him, were silently regretting it. Vegas was glowing. They had spoken before him—why hadn't they asked that one extra question?
They had originally thought Chrysanthemum Terrace was just an upgraded gufeng song. But now they knew the truth. One song wasn't enough to earn Chu Zhi the title of "Father of New Zhongguo Feng." He would need more excellent works to support it.
But was that even a problem for Chu Zhi?
With legends like Li Yugang, Xu Song, JJ Lin, Hu Yanbin, Jay Chou—and countless outstanding Zhongguo Feng works already in existence—there was nothing to be afraid of.
Chu Zhi left the stage and returned to the far end of the hallway, where contestants waited for their turn. Zhao Quan sat on the bench and spotted his opponent approaching. Even though he didn't want to, he stood up politely.
"That was a strong song. I could hear the quality," Zhao Quan said, offering a token compliment.
"Nine Times was also an excellent dance track," Chu Zhi replied.
They didn't make small talk. They didn't speak the same language, and even with translation devices, the deeper issue was clear—they simply didn't get along. If it had been someone like Hengkou Yi, he would've at least tried to chat, even with the language barrier.
Both of them turned their attention to the stage. Another core feature of I Am a Singer-Songwriter was that the contestants stood off-stage during the results.
Once both had exited, the show's mascot robot, Xiao Qi, slid out and announced,"[Would the 101 public judges please submit your scores for Zhao Quan and Chu Zhi.]"
Dramatic sound effects filled the studio—way better than those used on MBC's ghost-story programs. The big screen showed both contestants' faces. Below them, energy bars filled up one square at a time with each vote.
Final score: Zhao Quan 24 — Chu Zhi 77.
Chu Zhi's victory was absolute. A gap of more than 50 votes. Total domination.
In terms of popularity, Zhao Quan was the top idol in K-pop, and Chu Zhi was the top star in China. They were about even there. While public judges could be biased, the results weren't exaggerated.
"This is the score it should be," Chu Zhi thought to himself.As stirring as rap can be, it was no match for Zhongguo Feng. Appreciation for one's own culture runs deep in the DNA.
More importantly, Chu Zhi had just founded a musical school with Chrysanthemum Terrace. Just like Tongtian used the Four Immortal Execution Swords to establish his teachings, or Laozi used the Taiji Diagram, or Yuanshi Tianzun used the Pangu Banner. The Golden Dragon Shears were impressive, sure, but how do you compare them?
"Nine Times was a solid piece. I look forward to your next challenge, Mr. Zhao," Chu Zhi offered graciously.
But Zhao Quan was furious inside. He couldn't understand how that song—that song—had beaten him.
The score gap was even bigger than when he had crushed Lee Jun. Zhao Quan had never suffered such humiliation in his career.
"China is still this backward? In the 21st century, someone can still 'create a new genre'?" he muttered to himself with scorn. He wasn't stupid. He realized that what he lost to was not the song itself, but the hype around the concept. It irritated him.
Under his breath, he added, "Our country's K-pop system is highly developed. I didn't expect yours to still be inventing genres out of thin air."
This was emotional backlash. Clearly, he wasn't thinking straight. Maybe it was because Korean pop's dominance in China had been smooth sailing for so long, that losing even once now felt unacceptable.
Chu Zhi caught the tone.
"I haven't studied K-pop in depth," he said calmly, "but from what I know, it combines Western electronic music, dance-pop, and hip-hop, with themes of passion and romance. Most pop genres today come from the West. K-pop is a localized expression of Western music."
"Very few Eastern cultures can stand on equal footing with Western music traditions. Chinese culture is one of the few that can—and because it is so deep-rooted, any imported genre like rap, rock, or soul eventually gets absorbed and reinterpreted in our own way."
"Mr. Zhao, perhaps we should consider this from another angle. K-pop may be a mature system, but maybe that system feels a bit limited because of a lack of traditional musical roots."
Chu Zhi was skilled at redirecting the argument. Zhao Quan realized he had let his emotions slip and said something too harsh on a live show, so he dropped the subject.
He would save the fire for next time.Yes—next time, Zhao Quan would challenge Chu Zhi again.
The two parted ways at the corner of the hallway. Chu Zhi walked left toward the upper bracket. Zhao Quan, the loser, walked right toward the lower bracket.
In the backstage control room:
"Producer Che... this..." Assistant Xiao Tang looked at his confused boss. After all, Che Lun had been so sure Zhao Quan would win. Everyone had expected a close match, not this landslide.
Xiao Tang wanted to offer some comfort, but before he could speak, he heard—
"Hahaha! I told you Chu Zhi would shine!" Che Lun's dazed expression turned instantly into one of pure delight. His tone jumped with excitement. "He shocked everyone on Masked Singer in Seoul, and that was overseas. Of course he'd be even stronger at home!"
"Good, good, very good. Chrysanthemum Terrace—even the name is elegant. Not just because chrysanthemums bloom late, but because once they fall, no other flower can compare. The emotion it evokes—this is the future of pop. New Zhongguo Feng is perfect!"
"Uh…" Xiao Tang was thoroughly confused.
"Xiao Tang," Che Lun patted his shoulder and said with all seriousness, "Your instincts aren't bad, but your judgment needs sharpening. I told you already, Chu Zhi was always the more likely winner."
"...??"That was not what he said before.
Zhao Quan? What Zhao Quan?
Chu Zhi had just dropped a bomb on stage. The one who benefited most was the show itself. Che Lun could already predict the viewership explosion once this episode aired.
Whoever brings the heat, rules the game.
That was Che Lun's number one rule in showbiz. Chu Zhi's victory? For Che Lun, it was like Bulbasaur eating a Super Snack in the Magic House—absolute perfection.