Chapter 84: "Arrogance and Hubris"

As the announcement of the winner for the Golden Melody Award for Best Male Singer echoed through the hall, both Chen Wenhua and Zhou Ran rose from their seats together. Yet their thoughts could not have been more different. For Chen Wenhua, the moment brimmed with reflection—a deep sense of awe at the speed with which newcomers were rising. To think that a fresh-faced singer could take home the Best Male Singer award at the outset of his career! Such a thing would have been unimaginable in Chen Wenhua's era, almost absurd.

Privately, Chen Wenhua had looked into Zhou Ran, this singer who had only recently debuted. He had listened to Zhou Ran's songs over and over, and finally arrived at a single, striking conclusion: this young man was brimming with potential, a force not to be trifled with.

Zhou Ran’s heart, on the other hand, was filled with nothing but satisfaction. He had prepared himself for the worst, expecting no award at all, simply because his qualifications seemed lacking—his debut had been so recent. The fact that he shared the honor was of little consequence to him; he was confident in himself, and if he didn’t win outright this time, he would win again next year.

As the award ceremony music swelled, Zhou Ran and Chen Wenhua walked onto the stage together, met by applause from the audience. This applause was different from before—no longer perfunctory or obligatory. This time, it was sincere, heartfelt, as if Zhou Ran had truly conquered them.

When someone is only a little stronger than you, you feel compelled to compete, to surpass them. But when someone is dozens of times stronger, all that remains is admiration and envy; the desire to surpass disappears completely. It is a harsh yet honest truth. For most people, Zhou Ran now represented a kind of overwhelming superiority—he had swept up awards that others might never even touch in a lifetime.

On stage, Zhou Ran watched silently as Chen Wenhua delivered his acceptance speech first, out of respect for the elder artist. Chen Wenhua had prepared a lengthy address, yet when the moment arrived, his words failed him. He felt embarrassed to say everything he had planned. His achievement was impressive, but there was a prodigy among them—Zhou Ran—whose extraordinary talent had shaken Chen Wenhua's confidence to its core. Before Zhou Ran, Chen Wenhua had never imagined anyone could be so astonishing.

Chen Wenhua quickly wrapped up his remarks, sensing the audience’s anticipation for Zhou Ran’s speech.

“Thank you, Teacher Chen, for your acceptance speech. Now, let’s invite Zhou Ran!” With a brief transition, Ning Wei handed the microphone to Zhou Ran, who stepped forward to deliver his own remarks.

“Hello everyone, we meet again!” Zhou Ran greeted the audience as he took the microphone. The applause rose again, this time filled with genuine admiration; they were convinced of his greatness, unwilling to compare themselves anymore.

Looking out over the audience, Zhou Ran felt a distinct difference from his previous award appearances. He had already said everything he wanted to say in earlier speeches—this was his fifth time on stage tonight, and even the most talkative would run out of things to say after so many turns.

Still, it would have been inappropriate to simply accept the award, thank everyone, and leave without more. Zhou Ran paused to think, and inspiration struck. He picked up the microphone and began to share his thoughts with the guests and fans watching the livestream.

“I know that as I stand here, many of you might feel indignant, quietly thinking, ‘Zhou Ran, why are you up here? You’ve only just debuted. What qualifies you?’”

As his words echoed, some guests lowered their heads, unable to meet Zhou Ran’s gaze, for he had voiced their private thoughts—they had indeed felt that way.

After a moment’s pause, Zhou Ran continued, “But I want to say this to those who feel that way: I’m sorry, but even if you dislike me, I am still here on this stage. What can you do about it?”

“What belongs to me will always be mine, and even if I don’t win this time, I’ll earn it through my own efforts next time!”

“If you’re dissatisfied, it’s simple: create better works than mine, and I will naturally acknowledge your talent. I believe the music world is a pure place—here, it’s all about the music. If you have great work, you’re the best. If you haven’t released anything, then just keep quiet.”

“There’s a phrase I truly dislike: ‘Zhou Ran peaked at debut.’ As though from the moment I arrived, my popularity started to decline. But time has proven otherwise.”

“On the contrary, I am still climbing, step by step. I believe I have never yet reached my peak, and I will continue to ascend—my peak is always the next time.”

“Let me end with one final phrase: The road ahead is long. Please look forward to it!”

With that, Zhou Ran bowed gracefully and returned to his seat. His words left the audience and fans in the livestream restless, unable to calm their hearts.

The truth is, Zhou Ran’s remarks were explosive. If any other singer had spoken so boldly, it would have been met with intense backlash. But coming from Zhou Ran, it felt right—he had the confidence to back it up, having won Best Singer. This award was proof that, for now, he was among the country’s finest.

Of course, his speech was bound to leave some feeling uncomfortable. Zhou Ran had been brash, not at all modest, but he didn’t care about their feelings.

Those people were the so-called professional critics; no matter how humble Zhou Ran was, they would still find fault. So he saw no reason to concern himself with their opinions.