Chapter 63: Drawing Lots for Life and Death

“Damn! Another rigged result!”

“The ‘My Song’ production team, just keep doing what you’re doing! Every episode you just piss us off, huh? Fine, I’ll just change the channel!”

“Two weeks in a row, he draws number eight, three consecutive finals performances—has Star Metropolitan TV been bought out by the richest family or what?”

“Can the show get any more shameless? This is faker than the Champions League draw!”

“I used to stupidly think this segment was all about luck, turns out it’s all just a show! Damn!”

“Cannon Lord is unstoppable! Even his luck defies the heavens!”

“Cannon Lord is gonna win the championship again this week! Hahaha, all you cannon fodder, get fired up!”

“Anyone calling it rigged is just jealous of Cannon Lord’s luck. Go be the son of a billionaire yourselves! From the day he was born, Cannon Lord has been favored by the heavens! Admit it, you’re just bitter!”

“Zhang Cannon, you and I have a father’s feud! We cannot exist under the same sky!”

“Those saying it’s not rigged, are you blind or just heartless? Do you even know how slim the odds are of drawing number eight twice in a row? Look, I may be a PE teacher, but I can do the math—one in eight times one in eight, that’s one in sixty-four! Do you get what that means? It means you’d have to pick the only bowl with a ball out of sixty-four, with just one try, and he actually did it! If that’s not rigged, what is? No need to deny it, production team, you’re clearly protecting Zhang Cannon! A bunch of bribed trash!”

“The flavor of ‘My Song’ season two has really changed, reeking of money. Poor Xuan, my goddess.”

“Trash Zhang Cannon, get off ‘My Song’! Don’t interfere with my Xuan’s victory! The Xuan Love Family is countless strong, we’ll make sure you’re finished!”

“It’s me, Wang Mingming, back again. I’m using my dad’s phone in the bathroom to secretly register a new account. Cannon Lord, let me apologize first—the last post was my teacher forcing me. I’m actually a hardcore fan of yours, I love your kingly aura! Now, under my influence, over twenty kids in Class Five-One have become your die-hard fans. Cannon Lord, I’m risking a beating from my dad just to cheer you on! Go bravely down your own path, you’ll always be the champion in the hearts of us kids in Five-One!”

“Cannon Lord, your luck is a bit over the top, huh? Are you gonna let any other singer live?”

“Trash Zhang Cannon, even if you perform last, you’ll still come in dead last! Your fate is sealed, you were born to be at the bottom!”

“I beg the live audience, stop taking bribes from Zhang Cannon! Don’t you have a conscience? What kind of audience would vote for this kind of trash?”

“If I watch Zhang Cannon perform again, I’m an idiot! Everyone, after you’ve seen the other singers, just switch channels—let ‘My Song’ and Zhang Cannon play by themselves!”

...

The fact that Zhang Qiyang drew the eighth spot made the production team’s hearts sink like stone.

They didn’t even need to check the online forums to know they’d be blamed again.

They just couldn’t figure it out—was this guy truly fate’s chosen one in the entertainment industry? How on earth could his luck be this good!

The other singers were left speechless by the result, each with their own thoughts.

Some marveled at Zhang Qiyang’s unbelievable luck.

But the more cynical, led by Tan Zhizhong, suspected the production team was deliberately favoring Zhang Qiyang.

Otherwise, how could he draw the last spot two weeks in a row?

It was simply too shady!

Yet, no matter how angry or resentful they were, since this was a live broadcast, there was no way to storm off in protest. All they could do was swallow this bitter pill in silence.

Zhang Qiyang, wrapped in his heavy fur coat, returned to his seat. Then, Li Xuan, who had taken second place last week, stepped up to draw her lot.

Her luck was slightly better than last week’s, but still far from matching Zhang Qiyang’s. She drew the third spot for this week’s performance.

Fortunately, she had no grand expectations for this week’s championship.

She knew this week belonged to Zhou Delin, performing in his home territory, so her draw position didn’t matter much—as long as she could showcase her ability.

Both Zhang Qiyang and Li Xuan had secured over a hundred votes last week, so they faced no risk of elimination this round.

This week was Zhou Delin’s home stage, and his Cantonese fans adored him, so he was also safe.

But for the other singers, varying degrees of risk awaited.

That’s why the order of appearance mattered so much to them—it could determine half their fate in this round, a draw between life and death!

After Li Xuan, Lin Haoran, the RnB Prince who got 66 votes last week, came up.

He was lucky enough to draw the fifth spot.

Next, Zhou Delin, who finished fourth last week with 57 votes, stepped up.

He was a decent guy, but his luck failed him—he would be the second to perform this round.

Seeing the result, Zhang Qiyang remained calm, but Qin Xueyang was overjoyed, shaking her fists in silent celebration for the advantage this gave Zhang Qiyang.

Although she had high hopes for Zhang Qiyang’s story-rich performance of “Exaggeration,” deep down, she didn’t believe he could beat Zhou Delin, the king of Cantopop’s middle generation.

But after glancing at the ‘My Song’ forums and seeing her idol getting trashed like that, accused of being part of a rigged system, with brainless onlookers piling on, Qin Xueyang was furious!

Relying on die-hard fans like Wang Mingming to fight back was just a drop in the ocean.

Only Zhang Qiyang’s strength and results could speak for themselves now. Winning tonight’s championship would be the best way to slap all the haters in the face!

So she desperately hoped Zhang Qiyang could work another miracle and take the crown, just to silence the doubters.

Now that Zhang Qiyang had drawn the eighth spot, and his strongest rival Zhou Delin had drawn the unlucky second, Qin Xueyang felt the scales of victory shifting from Zhou Delin’s side to a level balance.

If Zhang Qiyang could perform at his peak tonight, maybe… just maybe… he could win another championship!

Qin Xueyang could hardly imagine how beautiful that scene would be!

She had to quickly sip some bubble tea to calm herself, before she started drooling.

After Zhou Delin, Yue Li, the queen of healing songs who finished fifth last week with just 35 votes, came up to draw.

Her luck wasn’t bad either—she drew the sixth slot.

With her retro floral dress and a reserved, vintage smile, she returned to her seat, brimming with confidence about advancing to the next round.

Next up was Ji Chunying, the “iron lung” singer who took sixth place last week with 33 votes.

Her luck was decent, too—from the last three remaining cards, she drew number four.

She would be performing fourth.

After Ji Chunying drew, only two draw cards remained on the table—number one, the worst, and number seven, the best.

Tan Zhizhong, who finished seventh last week, still had the right to draw.

As for Zhao Lei, the rock cool guy who came in dead last, fate would decide for him.

Zhang Qiyang watched it all coldly.

Tan Zhizhong tried to act casual, but was actually nervous as he walked up to the draw table.

He hesitated for at least five seconds before picking the card on the right.

He thought, “I was seventh last week, so maybe I’ll be seventh this week too?”

He held up his card to the camera—

Number one!

The worst possible draw.

Pfft.

Zhang Qiyang couldn’t help but let out a low laugh.

Li Xuan gently nudged him with her knee, not looking his way, but reminding him with the gesture to be more polite.

Zhang Qiyang caught the hint and suppressed his laughter.

Still, as Tan Zhizhong trudged back to his seat with the number one card, shooting him a dark glare, Zhang Qiyang responded with a haughty farewell glance, as if seeing him off to his doom.

From that sullen, chilly look, Zhang Qiyang could already sense that Tan Zhizhong would try to mess with him again tonight.

But it didn’t matter—let anyone who wanted to, come at him.

If you’re not attacked, you’re mediocre.

Enduring the trials of fate is the mark of a true man.

Even if the King of Broken Porcelain himself came to try his luck, Zhang Qiyang wouldn’t let him get the upper hand.