Love Variety Show: The despised me exploded in popularity

Lin Wanzhou: "Her votes stopped."

"Huh???" Xu Qingyan was somewhat confused. What did it mean by votes stopping? "Stopped, and then? How many votes in the end? I'm in the corridor and can't see."

"A little over four hundred, now slowly approaching five hundred."

Buzz!

In the bright stage corridor, Xu Qingyan leaned against the white wall, his fingers tapping on the phone screen. Seeing the message about a little over four hundred, a hint of suspicion flashed in his eyes.

Five hundred votes could be disregarded, the final result wouldn't possibly be just over five hundred.

But the fact that the number of votes was stuck a little over four hundred and then slowly climbing was indeed puzzling. Generally speaking, votes would always rise to five hundred and then stagnate.

Afterwards, they would increase slowly, drip by drip, until all the hesitant votes in the audience's hands were cast.

Pei Muchan hadn't left the stage yet, so he couldn't return to the rest area to watch the live broadcast on the screen. He could only compose another message to Lin Wanzhou, asking.

"Are the final vote numbers out yet?"

"Not yet, it's at five hundred sixty now. This growth rate, I guess at most it'll be a little over six hundred." Lin Wanzhou replied to the message quickly, "Is there some kind of trickery going on?"

Xu Qingyan didn't care about any trickery. This time he hadn't made elaborate stage aesthetics, just figuring that the production team might manipulate the voting. It wasn't worth wasting energy, better to save it for later use.

There were so many stage effects that could be paired with this song; the vast sense of the yellow sands and western winds and the suona were a perfect match. The moment the suona sounded, it could turn the entire stage upside down, and then paired with the Beijing opera singing...

The soul travelled back a thousand years, and in a glance, it seemed as if one could see Wang Baochuan standing in a land of bitter cold.

Cold moon on barren branches, gazing into the lonely night of the vast desert.

Just like the lyrics interpreted, I've wasted too much time in this life, just for that one minute, suddenly caring about this minute, under the borderlands moon.

Cold light, solitary shadow, the sky oppressively dark.

Xue Pinggui rode his white horse at a mad gallop, unstoppable, with no letters but only a contract. The only sound was the night wind howling by his ears, the horse's hooves shattering the moonlight, pressing forward relentlessly.

Until the horse died of exhaustion, the soles of his boots worn to a bloody blur, yet he felt as if he was unaware. Until at last he collapsed in exhaustion in the desert, and as his consciousness blurred, he could hear the gongs and drums of the operas from his childhood.

The young general, riding his white horse, returned to his hometown after achieving fame and success late at night. The lady was illuminated by the moonlight, standing in the courtyard, gazing up at the moon in the sky.

Under the same moon, the two scenes gradually overlapped.

Reality and fantasy met; eighteen years without seeing each other. Upon reuniting, they looked at each other without words, only tears flowing in thousands of streams.

In terms of stirring emotions, the crew of "I Am the Singer King" were all trash.

Xu Qingyan could casually create some movie-quality stage aesthetics, enough to add a lot to the performance effect of "riding a white horse," but there was no need, as the show liked to play tricks.

But no matter how much the production crew liked to conjure up gimmicks, the audience still loved to watch. Most people were just looking for a laugh, incidentally watching videos while eating, not caring much about the ins and outs.

As for the production crew, their plot twists and turns, that was what was fascinating.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

As for fairness, the audience would say I think xxx's singing was a bit off, not pleasant to listen to. It's normal that her vote count is low, the production team didn't have any issues.

He was looking down at his phone, yet to reply to Lin Wanzhou's message.

Suddenly, he saw two people walking towards him from the end of the corridor: one figure graceful, with a shadow overlying her chest. As she drew closer, Xu Qingyan recognized her as Wen Shuanghua and her assistant.

"Teacher Xu." Wen Shuanghua greeted with a beaming smile, her evening gown enhancing her figure as it swayed.

"Hello." Xu Qingyan responded politely.

He didn't react much to foreign friends, even if Wen Shuanghua had a great figure and a pretty face. But she was not from his world, and there was no need to occupy too much of his mental cache.

Unsurprisingly, Wen Shuanghua was going to sing an English song this time; the stage was indeed becoming more diverse and international.

"Are you waiting for Pei Muchan here, Teacher Xu?" Wen Shuanghua stopped, "The competition for the top four is too fierce, almost requiring seven hundred votes to advance."

"I almost have no hope, just doing my best."

Xu Qingyan was thinking about Pei Muchan's voting results, and didn't have much inclination to chat. Facing Wen Shuanghua's attempt to strike up a conversation, he was somewhat distracted.

"Hmm, there's a chance, good luck."

Wen Shuanghua probably realized that Xu Qingyan was not focused on their conversation, as she waited in the corridor for a while and then couldn't help but ask.

"How many votes did Pei Muchan get? Over seven hundred?"

"It's still..." He was about to say it was unclear when his phone suddenly vibrated, Lin Wanzhou had sent a message, "The final result is out, six hundred thirty votes."

When Xu Qingyan saw the number, he was momentarily stunned, unable to tell whether it was high or low, whether it was a loss or a gain.

The production team had manipulated the votes, they had really controlled the votes this round?

In a way, it was a kind of honor; after all, with Pei Muchan's stage performance, without control, the votes would have soared to over seven hundred.

But now it was the lowest, or at least temporarily the lowest.

However, Lin Wanzhou couldn't possibly have six hundred thirty votes; Wen Shuanghua, on the other hand, was hard to say, being temporarily the lowest and being the lowest at the end of the competition made no difference now.

"A little over six hundred thirty." He looked up and said.

"How is that possible?" Wen Shuanghua was a bit stunned when she heard the number six hundred thirty, as her own cross-language English songs had garnered more votes than that.

Moreover, she had also heard the story of Xue Pinggui and Wang Baochuan.

She had never imagined someone could actually incorporate a folk tale into a song, and to top it off, create a modern song fused with local vernacular, truly admirable.

Hou Xueheng had said that this song was of a high level. Now, the person who wrote this song was standing right before her eyes, yet the final result was not ideal.