Chapter 104: Discussing the New Song

Having recorded "Outlier" just once, Zhang Qiyang stepped out of the recording studio.

Taking the chilled cola that Qin Xueyang always promptly brought him after each session, Zhang Qiyang took a sip, savoring the refreshing coldness. He then told Li Lei, "There are a few minor flaws in my take. Could you help me fix it up a bit? I’m done recording; this is it, win or lose. Just do a simple mix and make a demo. I’ll send it over to the production team later."

Li Lei responded, "Your version is already excellent, hardly needing any fixes. It’s on par with Li Xuan’s!"

This wasn’t flattery. Li Lei genuinely felt Zhang Qiyang’s recording of "Outlier" left little to criticize.

Most new singers online nowadays, especially those pretty boy idols, have singing skills that drive people crazy.

For sound engineers and mixers like Li Lei, working with such newcomers is particularly frustrating. They have to record dozens of tracks repeatedly, then painstakingly piece together each phrase, sometimes even word by word, to create a complete song.

Ordinary listeners hear the polished final versions and think they sound great, unaware of the immense effort the engineers put in behind the scenes—far exceeding that of the performers themselves.

It’s less a matter of these idols truly singing the songs, and more about the mixers assembling the final product for them.

Zhang Qiyang, however, was different.

With just this single recording tonight, Li Lei could confidently vouch that Zhang Qiyang’s vocal skills outclassed those pretty boys by miles.

This young heir to a fortune sang with the prowess of a battle-hardened veteran from the golden era.

Those veterans had experienced a time before software pitch correction and digital editing existed. Back then, recordings were limited to 24 or 32 tracks, most dedicated to instrumental accompaniment. Singers had to nail their part in one take; if not, they had to start over and keep going until it was perfect.

In that era, a single song might take weeks or even months of recording to get right.

Not like today, where singers just belt out multiple takes regardless of pitch, leaving the rest to the mixers.

Zhang Qiyang’s recording of "Outlier," though with minor imperfections, required almost no further editing. It could be used directly as a live demo, which deeply impressed Li Lei.

Li Lei frequently worked with Li Xuan and knew her vocal skills were formidable. Yet after hearing Zhang Qiyang’s casual take, he quietly suspected Zhang might even surpass Li Xuan.

Indeed, Zhang Qiyang’s vocal prowess could very well be superior to Li Xuan’s.

But unlike Li Xuan, who honed her skills through relentless practice, Zhang’s mastery came from his brain’s absolute control over his body.

He had finer, more instinctive command over his chest cavity and vocal cords than even top-tier singers like Li Xuan.

He hardly needed to consciously “control” his voice; whatever sound he imagined in his mind, he could produce using his uniquely gifted voice.

When he recorded earlier, he had Hua Chenyu’s version of "Outlier" in mind. As the music played, he effortlessly sang in that style, even more wildly and powerfully in terms of intensity and emotion.

For professional singers, practicing and singing might be exhausting and tedious.

But for Zhang Qiyang, every time he sang, he felt a deep, genuine exhilaration, able to vent his emotions through the song.

That feeling was simply exhilarating!

After using "Outlier" as an appetizer, Zhang Qiyang’s spirits lifted, and he asked Li Xuan, “How’s my competition piece?”

Li Xuan answered honestly, “Singing it live will definitely be explosive. But it’s a bit flamboyant, very much like you. I worry some audience members might not accept it.”

Zhang Qiyang shrugged, sipping his cola, “Whether they accept it or not is their business. Whether I express my attitude—that’s mine.”

Chen Ke reminded him, “Next round will be a double-elimination match. You should think carefully.”

Qin Xueyang understood Zhang Qiyang’s frustration after being mocked and ridiculed by haters this week and spoke up for him: “Our young master’s goal this week isn’t to win the championship. He just wants to show everyone his attitude! As long as he expresses that, many people will like him. Among the 500 live audience members, there must be a few sacrificial lambs, right? Even if not, he’ll create some. Those people will vote for him, ensuring he doesn’t end up last.”

Zhang Qiyang rarely praised Qin Xueyang’s opinion but did this time: “Exactly. My goal this week is to blow more people away. I’m not after the single-episode championship. Li Xuan, you won last week; this week, you must fight for back-to-back wins and completely suppress Zhao Ziqi. That girl is talented; we can’t give her a chance to turn things around.”

Qin Xueyang cautiously said, “Last week, Zhao Ziqi took second place—only about twenty votes behind you, Li Xuan. The margin was very slim. This week, she must not reverse the results.”

Xiao Wa sighed, “That newcomer from Chu Entertainment is really strong. Her stage presence is extraordinary. You can feel it—it’s an innate, powerful aura. I was under the stage listening to her sing ‘I Don’t Love You,’ and several times it nearly sent chills down my spine.”

Li Xuan nodded in agreement. After seeing Zhao Ziqi’s performance, she definitely wouldn’t underestimate this formidable newcomer.

Zhang Qiyang hummed, “Even if she has a naturally strong aura, we’ll shatter it.”

Chen Ke picked up on this and asked, “Young Master Yang, from what you’re saying, have you already written a new song for Li Xuan?”

Setting down his empty cola can and sitting back on the sofa with his legs crossed, Zhang Qiyang, embracing his time-traveler identity, spoke arrogantly, “I’ve written many songs over the years since debut, quite a few unpublished. Among them are some I personally consider outstanding.”

Qin Xueyang, snacking on sunflower seeds, asked, “You’ve written a lot? Why haven’t I heard about them?”

Zhang Qiyang glanced at Qin Xueyang with a look clearly saying: Who do you think you are? I don’t owe you an explanation.

Xiao Wa was curious, too: “Why haven’t you released all those songs, then?”

Zhang Qiyang said, “I have. Since debut, I’ve been releasing original works.”

Qin Xueyang complained, “But your released songs are all awful.”

“I did that on purpose. This world disgusted me, so I deliberately wrote good songs but didn’t release them—only the bad ones—to annoy the world. Heh heh.”

Zhang Qiyang’s smile seemed twisted to Li Xuan and the others.

Yet at the same time, they increasingly sensed this eccentric and rebellious young heir might truly be an unparalleled genius. Only a genius could have such a peculiar mindset.

Chen Ke steered the conversation back: “Young Master Yang, among your songs, do you have any pieces like ‘I Don’t Love You’—songs with a wide vocal range and great difficulty—that can showcase Li Xuan’s superb skills and help her surpass Zhao Ziqi?”

This week, Chen Ke had seen many online comments claiming Zhao Ziqi’s version of "I Don’t Love You" sounded better than Li Xuan’s, even saying Zhao’s vocal skills were stronger. These were obviously influenced by Chu Entertainment’s fan army.

The Eastern Entertainment camp had also mobilized their own fans to bring the momentum back.

But Zhao Ziqi’s stunning debut as a fresh force easily caught the public’s attention.

Eastern Entertainment found it difficult to reverse the trend; the best they could do was to level the playing field.

Chen Ke believed Li Xuan urgently needed a more powerful competition piece to counter public comparisons.

If Zhang Qiyang could write a song even more impressive than "I Don’t Love You" for Li Xuan to perform, she could solidify her position this week and maintain an unstoppable momentum moving forward.