All the nominees for Best Newcomer were seated in the third row, and Luo Ding could clearly see their reactions. Most of them were nervously watching Mellen leave, their faces filled with tension.
It was Luo Ding’s turn next.
Gu Yaxing was suddenly tense, grabbing Luo’s arm as if to offer some last-minute advice, but Luo casually patted him on the head to reassure him. Gu was a bit annoyed that Luo, who was younger than him, always acted like a senior, but the gesture did ease his nerves considerably.
Luo’s performance had been submitted long ago: a piano solo accompanied by a live band, a simple arrangement meant to showcase his vocal strengths.
He would be singing “Concerns,” the most popular track from his EP.
The song’s instrumentation was minimalist, relying almost entirely on his vocal range to convey the deep sadness of the lyrics. After the EP’s success, many people—some even from the music industry—had confidently claimed the song had undergone extensive post-production. Their reasoning was that the skill and emotional depth in the delivery were beyond what a singer in his twenties could achieve.
The stage, now empty after Mellen’s departure, felt vast and open. A spotlight illuminated the center, where a white grand piano had been placed.
The host’s light-hearted banter kept the scene from becoming too quiet.
“Mellen’s dance performance got my blood pumping. I was hoping Luo Ding would treat us to another dance. I couldn’t make it to the Network Media Music Awards, but I saw the replay, and wow, I was mesmerized. Will you be playing and singing today? You play the piano too?”
Luo Ding smiled as he walked out of the darkness, now wearing a formal tailcoat that matched his suit, along with white gloves. His delicate features, highlighted by the shifting lights, gave him an air of calm yet undeniable presence.
He smiled graciously, “Sister Xian, you asked me two questions at once. I’m not sure which one to answer first.”
He Xiann’s eyes softened instantly. Finally, a newcomer who wasn’t nervous or stumbling over their words. As a host, she dreaded those awkward exchanges where every answer fell flat, leaving her to scramble to fill the silence.
“Why don’t you answer the first one?”
“Yes,” Luo Ding stood at the piano, bowing slightly to the audience before turning back to He Xiann with a smile. “Sister Xian, would you like to guess which song I’m going to sing?”
“I’ve already seen your setlist backstage.”
There was a soft wave of laughter from the audience, and Luo Ding chuckled along with them, gracefully sitting down at the piano.
Because the music he had chosen was so soft, the audience, unlike during Mellen’s performance, fell silent, focusing their attention on the stage.
The first note fell like a cool breeze, light and gentle. It was delicate, like raindrops slowly forming a continuous drizzle.
Gu Yaxing widened his eyes in surprise. He knew Luo Ding could play the piano, but he had learned to play the keyboard after joining the company. When had he gotten this good?
The soothing melody calmed the audience, still buzzing from Mellen’s energetic dance.
Luo Ding’s voice seemed to emerge from nowhere, blending perfectly with the piano’s sound. One was slightly deep, the other soft and light, and because of the smoothness of his voice, the contrast didn’t feel jarring at all.
Since this was a live performance, there was no question of whether he was lip-syncing. The sound quality at the awards was excellent, and the clarity of his voice was unmistakably real.
His soft voice seemed to murmur, filled with worry and hesitation, as the uncertainty of love made it hard to understand one’s own heart.
Slowly, the sound of drums and the distant hum of a violin joined in.
Separation, reunion, reunion, separation. Human emotions are so tumultuous and unpredictable. The more we want, the more we lose. No matter how tightly we hold on, the fine sand always slips through our fingers.
The gentle music, suppressed for so long, suddenly burst forth.
The whispers turned into cries, a mixture of unwillingness and confusion. It was a brief explosion, as though the energy of life had been drained in that single outburst, leaving behind only a withered blossom.
Worry, after all that worrying, and still, we don’t get what we want.
A person’s life seems to be bound by such worries, in career, love, and even the smallest details of daily life. Everyone could find something in this song’s lyrics that resonated with their own experiences.
It was this strong sense of connection that had made the song so popular, beating out other, catchier tracks. And in the awards hall, there were certainly many people who had been similarly held back by their own worries.
The piano notes, as soft as they were at the start, carried a subtle undertone of melancholy and sorrow as they played on.
When the song ended, Luo Ding stood, bowed, and quietly left the stage.
It wasn’t until he reached the host’s platform that the audience seemed to snap out of their trance, offering scattered applause.
The applause lasted a long time, with more and more people joining in. Although it wasn’t as lively as the response to Luo Ding’s performance at the Network Media Awards, it was far warmer than the reaction to Mellen’s departure.
As Luo Ding made his way back to his seat, many of the guests in the front row nodded in greeting as he passed.
Gu Yaxing, still stunned, asked him, “When did you get so good at playing the piano?”
Luo Ding didn’t look at him, his gaze fixed on the stage, not a trace of guilt in his voice. “Don’t you remember? The new place I rented has a piano. I practiced. It’s just one song—I couldn’t manage that?”
Gu Yaxing, easily distracted, was once again fooled and began enthusiastically patting Luo Ding on the arm. “You were amazing!”
“Pretty cool, huh?” Luo Ding flashed him a grin. “Not worried anymore?”
Gu shook his head. “I have more and more confidence in you.”
When Mellen returned, their faces were visibly downcast, perhaps having received a scolding from their manager backstage. The looks they gave Luo Ding were far from friendly. But Luo wasn’t one to flaunt his success, so he simply ignored them, leaving them even more frustrated. Their anger was split between their company and their rival.
There’s nothing more infuriating than being dragged down by your own team.
With the most crucial performances over, the remaining acts felt anticlimactic. Among the Best Newcomer nominees, Mellen was the only group with enough popularity to challenge Luo Ding. But where they had failed to boost their standing with their performance, Luo Ding had silenced rumors about his use of autotune and displayed his vocal prowess to the fullest.
Gu Yaxing was beyond thrilled, carefully polishing the oddly shaped trophy before placing it on the top shelf of the office display case. Yaxing Studio hadn’t won many awards, and the highest honor they had received before this was a Best New Actor award at the Huoxiao TV Awards. Though that seemed more prestigious than a music award, its lack of authority meant it didn’t carry nearly the same weight as this.
Luo Ding was happy too, though the excitement didn’t last long. He had, after all, come back with a “cheat” code. He had already earned every honor in his previous life, so winning this Best Newcomer award left him with a lingering sense of embarrassment. His joy had already peaked during the photo ops and interviews.
As the premier music award in China, the Annual Music Festival had far greater influence than any network media event. The next day, the entire show was broadcast on the National Music Channel. The sheer number of celebrities alone drew in countless longtime fans who eagerly watched from their televisions.
Word of Luo Ding’s win spread through fan circles within five minutes of the announcement, and his fanbase erupted in celebration. Those in the know understood just how prestigious the Annual Music Awards were. Having such a talented and successful idol gave his fans a sense of pride and confidence.
In Mellen’s fan circles, rumors about the group’s failed album had already spread. As their peers, Luo Ding’s fans and Mellen’s weren’t exactly harmonious. Mellen’s fans had placed high hopes on the group winning an award at the festival, so when the results came in, many were in denial, crying foul play and claiming that the Chinese music industry was suppressing foreign artists.
Their frustration grew after watching Mellen’s performance on the broadcast. In their eyes, Mellen had clearly delivered an outstanding show, with powerful dancing, fashionable looks, widespread popularity, and strong fan influence. How could they have lost? Just how high were the standards for winning?
Naturally, this led many to develop hostility toward Luo Ding, the winner.
Some fans began blindly accusing Luo of winning through underhanded means, saying he had used connections to bribe the judges, that his win was undeserved, and that his Chinese nationality had allowed him to collude with the narrow-minded judges to push Mellen out.
But the public wasn’t easily fooled. Anyone who watched the awards could see the difference. Other than die-hard Mellen fans who refused to accept reality, most people could tell that Luo Ding’s and Mellen’s performances were equally impressive, with neither overshadowing the other.
The key difference was that Mellen’s performance was all about energy and passion, while Luo Ding’s was quiet and melancholic.
But Mellen had sixteen members! For a group that size, performing with such vigor should have been a major advantage. Yet, they still couldn’t outshine Luo Ding’s solo performance. That alone was proof they had lost.
Moreover, while Mellen’s dance was dazzling, the song itself was far less appealing than Luo Ding’s. And Mellen’s decision to go all-out with live vocals during their high-energy dance routine had backfired, with some members running out of breath during intense sections.
No one denied their talent. If it weren’t for Luo Ding, Mellen would have easily taken home the Best Newcomer award.
Unfortunately, they had the misfortune of going up against Luo Ding. They lost. They could have handled the defeat with grace, but instead, they made excuses, blaming the competition for being too strong.
Luo Ding’s fans, meanwhile, remained calm. With plenty of support from official sources and neutral observers, they saw no need to engage in pointless arguments. Let Mellen’s fans rant—after all, the fanbase was full of overly emotional young girls. Losing the award had driven them to desperation, and now they were lashing out to tarnish their rivals. It only made neutral fans dislike their toxic behavior even more.
Luo Ding’s fans were busy admiring his piano photos.
The official photos of Luo’s performance were scarce, most of them wide shots. The stage was pitch-black, save for the spotlight illuminating the center, where the slender young man in a tailcoat sat gracefully at the piano. His long, slender fingers glided across the keys, and with his eyes cast down in sorrow, the black-and-white image radiated a deep melancholy.
Luo Ding was truly versatile!
Putting his piano and dance photos side by side, how could anyone recognize this was the same person?! Aside from being equally handsome, was there anything similar between the two images?!
Playing the piano was inherently an attractive trait, and since Luo had never flaunted this talent before, his sudden display felt like a deep-water bomb dropped on his fanbase.
******
“Ahhhhh! Duan Da (big), come out and fight! We’re taking back the god!”
“We won’t give it to you anymore!!!!!!”
“We’re taking him back!!!!”
Luo Ding frowned as he scrolled through the few comments from fan forums on the trending page. Who the hell gave me to him? he thought, growing increasingly annoyed.
Yuan Bing had just finished an event and was busy touching up her makeup. The production team had arranged to meet near the film festival venue, so Luo Ding picked her up and brought her there.
Everyone else was waiting at the hotel next to the venue, and when they finally arrived, they rushed to greet them.
“You’re finally here!” Huo Xie’s voice boomed as he glanced between Yuan Bing and Luo Ding with a teasing smile. “What’s this? Trading in the old for some fresh meat?”
Yuan Bing rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of seeing your old faces.”
“That hurts,” came Duan Xiubo’s voice from a distance, lazy yet carrying a hint of real annoyance masked as a joke.
Luo Ding turned toward the voice, spotting the tall man lounging on a nearby couch, tea cup in hand, casually watching the entrance, his expression unreadable.
Thinking of all the comments circulating online lately, Luo Ding rolled his eyes, ready to ignore him.
But as his gaze casually passed over the woman sitting next to Duan, wearing a black evening dress, Luo Ding froze.
His pupils constricted sharply.
Yan Jingjing! The woman who, in his previous life, had single-handedly created a scandal with him, claiming to be his “official match.”
It really was a small world—he couldn’t escape her, even in this life!
Keep me fueled with caffeine! Support me on Ko-fi! ★~(◡‿◡✿)
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