Chapter 109: Tense Preparations

For the fourth episode of *I Am a Singer*, Ren Qian had no intention of putting together a special on traditional-style folk music. Instead, he simply chose several songs that were catchy and built on straightforward melodies.

Simple and blunt—exactly in keeping with his way of doing things.

The singers received their numbered scores and lyrics. None of them dared leave on their own; they cautiously returned to their seats and waited for Ren Qian’s next instructions.

“I have to say, your performances in the first two episodes were an absolute disaster! This was supposed to be a professional stage, yet you managed to turn it into karaoke. Are all of you Cai Chengyu?!

“Sun Munan, you sang the entire song as though you were stepping between the piano keys. Did you not rehearse your cues with the band beforehand?!

“And Murong Xue—how many times have I told you? Keep your breath steady. Stop panting like that!

“I won’t name the rest of you one by one. What kind of garbage were you singing?! You performed a little better in the first episode, then grew careless in the second. Did you think the audience was easy to fool?

“I’ve stressed this repeatedly: you are not singing for the audience. You are singing for yourselves. If you cannot even satisfy yourselves, how do you expect to satisfy the audience?”

At his words, every singer lowered their head and fell silent.

Ren Qian had struck at the heart of their true mentality. After two consecutive episodes had achieved astonishing ratings, the singers had grown complacent. If the ratings remained so high, surely it would not matter if they slacked off a little. After all, the audience could not understand the technical side of things anyway.

But was that really true?

The audience might not understand the finer points of a professional performance.

But if you were a singer and could not even display the most basic degree of seriousness, would the audience really fail to notice?

The people had sharp eyes. It was not difficult to tell the difference between karaoke-level singing and the standard of a professional television studio.

“For the next competition, I want to see you in your most perfect state. Do not let the other television stations or the outsiders watching us look down on us. Will you build a little fame only to collapse halfway, or will you hold on until the end and claim the greatest possible reward? Think it over, and you will understand.”

Having said his piece, Ren Qian fell silent and waved for them to leave.

Seeing that he had not exploded into a tirade, the singers all breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, they secretly clenched their fists and resolved to repay him for his understanding.

Being a singer was not easy.

It was a profession in which people pointed fingers at you and passed judgment every single day.

Singers with even a modest degree of fame would inevitably find themselves caught up in one scandal or another. Some were even negative stories deliberately fabricated by the media to attract attention.

Negative news brought accusations and abuse. As those emotions accumulated year after year, many stars became unable to bear the pressure, sinking into depression or erupting in anger. Some could not even control themselves during media interviews. Others began using drugs, gambling, or visiting prostitutes in an attempt to escape and relieve the pressure.

Beneath the glamour lay nothing but bitterness.

From what Ren Qian knew, after the third episode of *I Am a Singer* aired, all seven singers were soon buried beneath a flood of abuse.

“I hate Sun Munan’s trash singing more than anything. He ruined a perfectly good song. The golden reputation created by the first two episodes of *I Am a Singer* has been smashed to pieces by you! Trash—go home and raise pigs.”

People like that even went to Sun Munan’s Weibo page to spew their venom, their language vile and completely unrestrained. It did not subside until Sun Munan had no choice but to disable the comments. Without question, his mood would remain miserable for quite some time.

“Sha Puliang is a trash singer too. An outdated has-been crawling out to embarrass himself—what songs can you even sing? At that level, any karaoke champion from my village could sing better than you. Trash, and ugly too! You ugly bastard, get lost.”

“I’m not targeting any one person on *I Am a Singer*. I’m saying that every single one of them is trash. From Ren Qian at the top to the singers at the bottom, from those onstage to those behind the scenes—they are all trash. They keep emphasizing how hard the singers work, but what does the program actually look like when it airs? It is an utter mess. Jiangnan Satellite Television, if you are going to deceive people, could you at least put in a little effort?”

Of course, Jiangnan Satellite Television would not allow the negative comments to spread unchecked. Some of the trolls had even been hired by Gansu-Su Satellite Television to smear them deliberately.

The station had to protect its image and strike back.

When Director Hong Tao saw Ren Qian return in person to take control of the situation, he immediately took several candid photographs of Ren lecturing the singers, posted them online, and issued a clarification.

“The third episode suffered a minor setback because I failed to grasp the essence of how Ren Qian wanted the program filmed, giving certain people an opportunity to exploit the situation.

“But this time, the God of Qian has personally taken charge. Which clown would dare provoke us? The fourth episode is about to arrive with a thunderous impact. The ratings throne will remain ours!”

The confident Weibo post drew an intense wave of attention from netizens.

“With the God of Qian taking charge, there is naturally no suspense. Do you remember the first episode of *I Am a Singer*? Everyone was pessimistic about the program and thought it would fail. But what happened afterward? It became a massive hit and even created a ratings miracle!”

“I was wondering why the editing style in the third episode was so completely different from the God of Qian’s usual style. So Director Hong Tao had taken over. That explains it. Ren Qian was being maliciously smeared by the media at the time—how could he spare any attention for anything else? My poor Qian.”

“The God of Qian is still as handsome as ever…”

A well-known analysis expert commented, “Is *I Am a Singer* trying to make a comeback? I refuse to believe that Ren Qian’s talent can remain inexhaustible forever! Seven songs in a single week? Even the God of Songs could not produce at that rate. And, just like in the first episode, all seven songs would have to be classics to create another ratings miracle. Is that even possible?”

A major Weibo influencer hired by Gansu-Su Satellite Television posted:

“*The Voice of the Empire* draws on the strengths of many, absorbing the wisdom of ordinary people, while *I Am a Singer* is being propped up by a single singer. That singer may possess some talent, but he is no god. If Jiangnan Satellite Television still refuses to admit defeat, then let us watch the peak showdown in the next episode. The crystallization of the people’s wisdom will leave you speechless.”

The influencer had been paid thirty thousand yuan and was quietly congratulating himself. He had barely begun savoring his triumph when his Weibo account was besieged by trolls posing as fans of the God of Qian.

“Did Jiangnan Satellite Television dig up your family’s graves?”

“Did Jiangnan Satellite Television put a green hat on your father?”

And so on.

Comments like these nearly blew up his entire Weibo section. Terrified, he hurriedly logged off and stopped following the matter.

At eight that evening, the first rehearsal for the fourth episode began.

Ren Qian and the other staff members who needed to be present gathered in the studio. The band members were tuning their instruments and arranging the equipment, while the singers went through their routines again and again.

After the blow dealt by the third episode, none of them dared relax in the slightest. They treated every minute and every second of rehearsal as a military drill before battle.

Their attitude was excellent.

“Brother Ren Qian, everything is ready. All personnel and equipment have been arranged as they would be for the actual recording. We are only waiting for the singers to take the stage.”

“Good.”

Ren Qian gestured toward the stage, then turned around and called for Hong Tao to take the camera crew around and capture candid shots at random. He wanted images that looked as grand and polished as possible.

Hong Tao accepted the order and hurried off with an eager grin.

Ren Qian, meanwhile, walked onto the stage.

…

“Now, please welcome our first competing singer, Murong Xue, performing ‘Always Been Quiet.’ Lighting, prepare. Camera crew, make sure you do not miss any of the highlights.”