Chapter 113: The Reversal of Status

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When Zhou Ran and Zhang Yuan entered the backstage lounge, several other singers were already waiting there.

When they saw them arrive, the group hurried to stand up in greeting.

“Hello, Teacher Zhou Ran, Teacher Zhang Yuan. I’m singer Li Jie, and this is my musical partner, Xia Jie. Thank you for your attention.”

Li Jie and Xia Jie stood up completely while greeting Zhou Ran, almost bowing him at a full right angle. Seeing such an extravagant show, Zhou Ran and Zhang Yuan quickly returned their greetings, asking them not to be so formal.

After a few pleasantries, everyone took their seats and waited for the others to arrive.

As Zhou Ran sat there, he could not help marvelling at how much his status had changed. Just months ago, when he had just joined Who Is the King of Song, he was a fresh newcomer no one really knew; no one would even think to greet him first.

Yet only a few months later, Zhou Ran had already reached a point where people greeted him of their own accord.

And beside him, Li Jie kept glancing at Zhou whenever she found a chance. She was genuinely curious: how could a rookie who debuted around the same time make such a name for himself in the entertainment world so quickly? It was frighteningly impressive.

At a time when Zhou still had to go around to many seniors, bowing and flattering, Zhou Ran could now accept others’ greetings with composure—as if this were natural. He didn’t even need to care whether his own etiquette was flawless. As for Li Jie, all she could do was be thankful that Zhou returned her greeting; expecting perfect manners from him would have been unrealistic.

As they waited, more program singers kept trickling in, and one arrival in particular sent Zhang Yuan’s emotions into a sharp rise.

That was Xu Yan, an old rival of Zhang Yuan by any measure. The two had debuted around the same period and had taken similar artistic paths, so they were constantly compared on stage. That became the root of their rivalry, and their relationship was far from friendly—almost incompatible. So the moment they saw each other, the tension snapped into view.
From the outside, they still smiled and spoke pleasantly, but beneath it all, a sharp hostility had nearly broken through any restraint, and Zhou Ran could feel it even from his seat.

He couldn’t help thinking how terrifying female rivalry could be—completely two-faced. In public they looked like close sisters, but in private the air itself had already filled with lethal intent. It was chilling.

Once all the singers for the broadcast were present, the director of The Voice of Heaven, Wang Chong, came in as well. As he entered, he gave Zhou’s seat a careful glance; one could read hierarchy at a glance.

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The format of The Voice of Heaven differs from many earlier shows. It is built around improvised themes.

The production team randomly selects a theme, then gives each singer forty-eight hours to create. A singer may choose to arrange an existing song or write an original one, then perform it on stage, after which judges score which work is best.

In some ways, this resembles Who Is the King of Song, but The Voice of Heaven has no elimination segment. Instead, the same lineup remains for six episodes.

The program’s key attractions are precisely this spontaneous prompt and creative challenge. The forty-eight-hour limit adds urgency, and through that pressure they aim to offer viewers a fresh experience.

Zhou Ran had already learned the rules from Zhang Yuan before joining. Though adaptations of others’ songs were allowed, it was obvious Zhou would not use another person’s work. If he did, Zhang Yuan would never have invited him. Zhou and Zhang were determined to push originality to the limit. They planned to use this stage as a springboard; it was a mutually useful arrangement. The program would benefit from their popularity, and they would use the program’s promotional reach.

After a brief introduction to the rules, Wang Chong formally announced this episode’s theme: “Regret.”

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Wang Chong’s prompt, Regret, was a major one—undoubtedly a big theme. There was no denying it made the challenge easier, and that was deliberate. His intention was to raise the level step by step so that watchability would only increase.

At the word Regret, Zhou’s mind immediately filled with songs built around regret. What he now had to do was sort through his catalog and pick the pieces that best fit Zhang Yuan’s style.

After Wang Chong finished announcing the recording theme, all the singers in the lounge dispersed. The remaining time was entirely theirs, with only one requirement: a complete song had to be delivered by the same time two days later.

Of course, during their composition period the production would station cameramen to film closely at hand; without that, the program would be too thin in content.

Without close coverage, many of the most interesting moments during the creative process would be lost, and that intimate filming was itself one of The Voice of Heaven’s selling points.

Zhou Ran and Zhang Yuan were also filmed by a cameraman as they left, but they did not mind the presence. They only needed to finish their own work; they would handle the filming on their own terms.

And there was nothing they did that could not be filmed. They could let the cameraman openly capture every stage of their exchanges. If anything too private—such as commercial secrets—arose, it would be removed in post-production. The singers’ privacy would not be violated.

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Chapter 113, “A Reversal of Status,” Free Reading.