New Chinese Style Shakes the Stage

Hou Yubin, now fifty-four, had two children. His eldest, twenty-six years old, worked as a music teacher at the Southern Arts Institute. After getting married, he settled in Jiangning, Nanjing, only coming home to visit his parents during major holidays.

His younger daughter, Hou Zhenzhen, still lived under the same roof with him. She had just turned eighteen in March and, influenced by the family's musical environment, was aiming to enter the composition program at the Conservatory of Music in her senior year of high school. Her personality was vibrant and multi-faceted. She acted like a refined young lady around strangers, came off gentle and sweet among classmates, but turned into a complete goofball when she was with her closest girlfriends.

She was into 2D characters and part of the new generation of "Three-Pit Girls." She never idolized celebrities, partly because she had a singer for a father. From a young age, she understood a simple truth: celebrities were even more fragile than fictional characters.

"Zhenzhen, are you an iQIYI VIP? Let me log into your account," her dad called out from the living room.

She was, in fact, a VIP. Padding out of her room in slippers, she was curious. What show did her dad want to watch that needed a membership?

"What do you want to watch, Dad?" she asked.

"I Am a Singer-Songwriter, exclusive to iQIYI. It's a music competition show," Hou Yubin replied. "Kind of like I Really Am a Singer, the one I was on."

Zhenzhen had heard classmates talking about it. Something about a K-pop idol? Since when was her dad into Korean stars?

Still thinking it over, she didn't pause as she logged into her account on the iPad. "For a show still airing, I doubt you really need a VIP membership to watch."

But sure enough, one version did require it. Her dad pointed to the screen. "There, this one does."

It was the latest episode: 'Chrysanthemum Terrace' Stuns the Judges – VIP Exclusive Performance Cut.

"Why not just watch the regular version? That one's free," Zhenzhen tapped open Episode 8: The Big Battle – Chu Zhi vs Zhao Quan. No membership required.

But on second thought, they had already logged into the VIP account. Not watching the exclusive version felt like a waste. So she tapped back.

Hou Yubin frowned slightly, a little annoyed. "Stop fiddling with it. As long as we can watch, it's fine."

"Mom always says, 'You can't rush a good braised fish,'" Zhenzhen teased. "All done, I'm going in."

"Come sit and watch. A friend of mine said Chu Zhi's new song—both the composition and arrangement—is shaking up the music industry," Hou Yubin called out, stopping her from retreating to her room.

"Shaking up the music scene?" Zhenzhen almost laughed. In her mind, if the music scene shook, the only thing that would fall off was a melon or two.

What kind of over-the-top hype was that? she grumbled silently. Chu Zhi is indeed one of the more capable top-tier stars right now, but hopefully the marketing doesn't backfire.

There were too many examples to count. Just look at Li Xingwei. He used to have decent skills, but kept getting pushed as the "leading voice of the new music era." It only brought him waves of haters.

Whether she believed it or not, Zhenzhen still plopped down on the sofa to watch the show with her dad. Her mom was out getting a facial.

Let's be honest, once you're an adult, how often do you watch variety shows with your parents—Spring Festival Gala aside? Aesthetic tastes and generational gaps usually make it impossible. The Hou family had a great dynamic though. Occasionally, all three would still sit down together to watch a show.

The latest episode of I Am a Singer-Songwriter began. Since it was the performance-only VIP version, there were no long-winded intros or demo listening segments—just straight into the matchups:

Li Jun vs Yu Lan

Chu Zhi vs Zhao Quan

Xiao Xu vs Liang Zhengwen

Gunman vs Zhu Xinyue

Of the eight contestants, Hou Yubin only recognized Chu Zhi.

Zhenzhen was a bit more in the loop. "Liang Zhengwen is a well-known rapper in China. Remember two years ago, when there were floods in Yunnan and 1,300 hectares of crops were lost? He wrote a rap called But Still We Rise. It really struck a chord."

That rang a bell for Hou Yubin. He remembered that Liang Zhengwen received a joint award from the Publicity Department and the Cyberspace Administration: the "Outstanding Story of a Good Young Netizen."

"And Zhu Xinyue sang Tian Bao Ding Er in a previous round. You said it was really nice," Zhenzhen added.

"That was a solid song," Hou Yubin agreed. "Tian Bao Ding Er comes from the Classic of Poetry, the phrase means 'May Heaven protect and stabilize you.' The lyrics reference a lot of poetic classics. A bit forced in places, but overall respectable."

The first battle began. Yu Lan won against Li Jun.

"Li Jun needs to work on his vocals," Hou Yubin commented. "There were overtones where there shouldn't have been any. He struggles with head resonance. Let's hope this young man turns things around."

"Yu Lan—no technical issues, but her flashy use of mixed voice transitions between chest and head voice felt more like showing off than serving the song's emotion," he added. "It's like adding feet to a snake. Unnecessary."

That made him think of Chu Zhi's performance of Desert Island on I Really Am a Singer. That had been raw emotion, plain and powerful.

"Zhenzhen, which one did you like better?"

"Neither. Li Jun's harmonies were too formulaic, and his lyrics were average," Zhenzhen answered. With her sights set on studying composition, she analyzed songs differently from most listeners. "Yu Lan's song was too experimental. Musically weak. Mom says music should just be music."

"When did your mom say that?" Hou Yubin raised an eyebrow.

"Last time we went to a symphony concert. You had a schedule conflict, remember?" Zhenzhen answered smoothly.

Hou Yubin felt a bit left out. It had been a long time since he and his wife went out alone. Still, he jotted down that quote in his mind. His wife was a quote machine—half of what he said in interviews had actually come from her.

Then came round two. Zhao Quan took the stage first. His performance had a strong rhythm, and Zhenzhen bobbed her head along.

"Korean-style arrangement really nails the groove," she said.

"H-nation may be a small country, but their music approach has its merits. For emotional ballads, their arrangements often lean toward jazz or rock," said Hou Yubin.

Zhenzhen added quickly, "Also EDM. Korean groups really embrace electronic dance music."

Then came the moment they had both been waiting for—Chu Zhi's turn.

His rendition of Chrysanthemum Terrace, which won Best Original Song at the 26th Hong Kong Film Awards, stunned the 101-member public jury.

It also left both father and daughter speechless.

"A genius move," Zhenzhen marveled. "It starts in F mode, using harmonic structures commonly found in pop, avoiding wide interval leaps. Then he layers in dissonant chords, turning musical tension into the track's emotional drive."

She talked a mile a minute, like a machine gun. Dissonance might sound jarring to the ear at first, while consonance flows smoothly. Dissonant chords often set up transitions to consonance, heightening that contrast—like a musical lubricant. But in Chrysanthemum Terrace, he used it to change course entirely.

And what truly floored them was what Chu Zhi said afterward. He talked about "Three Classics and Three Innovations," and introduced a concept he called "New Chinese Style."

Even someone as seasoned as Hou Yubin couldn't help but be impressed.

Such vision!

"Chrysanthemum Terrace is excellent in lyrics, melody, and arrangement. But what impresses me most is how tirelessly Xiao Zhi continues to explore and reimagine Chinese culture," Hou Yubin said, deeply moved.

He didn't use Weibo, so he couldn't post anything public, but he had to show support. He picked up his phone and started calling his friends.

Zhenzhen didn't even want to watch the rest. She rewound the episode to hear Chrysanthemum Terrace again and study the arrangement in detail.

The latest episode of I Am a Singer-Songwriter wasn't just a bombshell. It was a nuclear bomb. No, a hydrogen bomb.