Chapter 66: The Enchanting Voice

“Now, please welcome tonight’s final contestant, Zhang Qiyang, who will perform his competition piece for this week—‘Exaggeration!’” Host Chen Zixuan stepped off the stage, leaving it to Zhang Qiyang, the centerpiece of tonight’s show.

For the first time, the audience learned that Zhang Qiyang’s song was titled ‘Exaggeration!’ No wonder he’d mentioned exaggeration repeatedly throughout the week. The song he chose was indeed extravagant.

Many of his loyal fans were instantly excited just hearing the name, feeling this was classic Zhang Qiyang style. The detractors, meanwhile, scoffed at the title, convinced it was typical of him as well.

The live audience, forbidden from bringing their phones, had no idea that Zhang Qiyang had boldly declared he would win before the competition began. Many who came tonight did so out of curiosity, eager to witness Zhang Qiyang’s true singing ability.

Rumors online persistently claimed that his live broadcasts were always auto-tuned, and that his live performances were disastrous, almost tragic. Shockingly, most people believed these rumors without question. Even many college students, supposedly well-educated, arrogantly assumed that everything about Zhang Qiyang was manufactured behind the scenes, including his singing—pure fabrication.

This time, many students had come specifically to hear the ‘real voice’ of Zhang Qiyang, hoping to verify his authenticity in person.

Just like the viewers at home, the audience assumed that with a song titled ‘Exaggeration,’ they would witness an outrageously flamboyant performance. Especially as Zhang Qiyang stepped onto the stage in oversized sunglasses, a deadpan poker face, and exaggerated attire, the crowd became even more convinced he was about to deliver his usual brazen act.

Some even guessed, based on his outfit, that Zhang Qiyang was about to attempt a RAP performance.

On the ‘My Song’ forum, some mischievous user posted: “Warning—high energy ahead! Zhang the Cannon is about to RAP ‘Exaggeration’! If your TV subtitles can’t keep up, if the rhythm doesn’t match his lips, don’t blame your TV—it’s just that Zhang the Cannon is serving up a long-lost, misaligned RAP!”

As Zhang Qiyang made his cool entrance, many people laughed and mocked him. Even several performers who had already finished their acts joined in, teasing his domineering look, intentionally or otherwise.

Li Xuan, meanwhile, stared unblinkingly at the big screen, full of anticipation for Zhang Qiyang’s performance.

The stage lights gradually dimmed. Only the right side’s spotlight fell on Zhang Qiyang’s face and body, casting an image where half of him was shrouded in darkness—a stark contrast of light and shadow.

Bao Zicheng, who had been frightened by Zhang Qiyang last week, worked especially hard on classic lighting effects for him this time. The lighting team did a superb job; audience members close to the stage couldn’t make out the shape of Zhang Qiyang’s left side, seeing only a vague silhouette hidden in darkness.

On television, the split black-and-white effect was even more pronounced. The sporadic applause and whispering from the audience slowly faded. The stage fell into a hush so deep you could hear a pin drop.

Yet Zhang Qiyang’s breathing was undetectable. He was as calm as if lifeless.

Looking at him now, half his body and face obscured in shadow, an intense, gloomy aura emanated from him.

Many with artistic sensibility noticed that while Zhang Qiyang’s outfit and appearance were ostentatious, the inner quality behind his expressionless poker face had nothing to do with exaggeration.

Sure enough, there was no flamboyant or brash opening as most had expected.

After a nod to the music team, Zhang Qiyang silently bowed his head, his body language resembling a soulless puppet dressed extravagantly.

Under the fractured lighting effects, his movement sent a chill through the crowd.

The piano’s drawn-out prelude began softly, like a background score for dissecting oneself.

Just as people’s moods began to settle with the slow tempo, a sudden torrent of metallic rhythm swept in, accompanied by the eerie, retro sound of the theremin!

This bizarre introduction seemed to conjure a haunted castle before the audience’s eyes.

Standing before the castle gates, drenched and forlorn like a soulless puppet, Zhang Qiyang bowed his head and began to sing in a manner so humble that no one could have predicted:

“…If someone asks, I’ll speak—but no one comes…”

“…I waited in vain, wanting to talk, but my words went unreceived…”

“…My mood hesitates like a bottle’s cap waiting to be opened, while moss grows on my lips…”

“…The quieter I am in the crowd, the more ignored I become—so I must make something happen…”

“…Like suddenly singing out loud, anywhere becoming a stage…”

“…Wearing the brightest clothes, striking a pose full of feeling—someone comes to take a photo, so I must remember to put my hands in my pockets…”

A world away from the usual arrogant image of ‘the Cannon,’ Zhang Qiyang’s ‘Exaggeration’ turned out to be about an inconspicuous, neglected nobody, left in a dark corner.

The storytelling in these lines amazed and stunned many; in just a few verses, Zhang Qiyang effortlessly brought to life a deeply resonant, three-dimensional portrait of a gloomy, endlessly resentful little person.

By the final two lines, his puppet-like persona grew more animated.

It was as if he bore a soul twisted by oppression, now striving to exaggerate himself, to live with dignity.

Imagining someone photographing him, he matched the lyrics with a cool pocket pose on stage.

Yet to the audience, his movements and singing seemed so distorted, echoing the split image cast by the black-and-white lighting.

From “like suddenly singing out loud,” accompanied by the ghostly theremin, Zhang Qiyang’s transitions between chest voice and falsetto became intensely dramatic, creating a jarring effect—like a cruel, humble inner struggle.

Everyone wants dignity. But often, society forces you to abandon it.

Choosing between dignity and survival, everyone faces the kind of twisted, tormented struggle embodied in Zhang Qiyang’s song.

Better to live in disguise, exaggerated, than to die quietly holding onto pride.

Like a puppet.

And so, in a manner nearly deranged, Zhang Qiyang erupted, voice hoarse and desperate:

“…Take me for someone exaggerated, exaggerated because I’m afraid—like wood, like stone, does that make me noticed?…”

“…Afraid of being forgotten, so I magnify and perform—how can I be graceful when so uneasy?…”

“…Does the world still praise silence? If it’s not explosive, how can it be news? Let me exaggerate and become the ultimate entertainer!…”

With surging piano accompaniment, Zhang Qiyang’s outburst was raw, almost bloody, exposing the innermost agony of a little person before everyone.

It made hearts race—and sent chills down spines.

Such a character made everyone think, in some degree, of themselves.

The insightful had already caught on: Zhang Qiyang’s voice was dissecting a fictional character, an exaggerated phenomenon, as delicately as a scalpel.

He was also ruthlessly peeling back the inner layers of everyone listening.

Like his song from last week, ‘New Shit,’ this piece was so satirical, so compelling, that several professional critics in the audience were already exclaiming in delight halfway through.

To them, Zhang Qiyang’s music brimmed with gloomy negativity, yet was irresistibly absorbing!

This man was a voice demon, nothing less!