The young man was Cheng Jiashu.
He had changed out of his formal white suit and was now wearing a simple black shirt, with the collar slightly open and the sleeves rolled up.
Shed of the dazzling aura from the stage, he looked more casual at the mont, with a signature smile on his face.
Upon entering the room, his gaze swept across the audience, lingering not long on Zhou Xiui, but instead fixing on Fang Cheng, as he greeted warmly:
"I saw these two beautiful ladies on stage earlier. May I ask how to address this gentleman?"
With that, he walked straight over and extended his hand first.
Fang Cheng stood up, a slight touch of polite excitent appearing on his face when seeing a celebrity, extending his hand to shake the other’s:
"Fang Cheng, as in ’square’ and ’honest.’ I’m a friend of Zhou Xiui, and this kid next to is a neighbor’s sister."
The tactile sensation as their hands t was sowhat unexpected for Fang Cheng.
The skin of the other’s palm was smooth, soft like it had no bones, with no hint of strength.
It was like a precious orchid carefully nurtured in a greenhouse, fitting perfectly with the stereotype of a "young idol" singer from the outside world.
Fang Cheng felt a subtle stir inside, yet his expression remained unchanged, rely giving a polite handshake before releasing it and sitting back on the sofa.
"Fang Cheng..."
Cheng Jiashu withdrew his hand, playfully savoring the na, giving Fang Cheng a deep look, and said with a smile:
"Great na! Mr. Fang gives off a very special, calm vibe, no wonder he can foster such an outstanding singer like Miss Zhou."
"Mr. Cheng, you’re too kind. I’m just a rough guy who works as a training partner at a gym, here to cheer on a friend."
Fang Cheng carelessly fibbed, his tone relaxed.
Cheng Jiashu raised an eyebrow, apparently not believing but didn’t expose it either.
After sitting down, he turned to look at the sowhat uneasy Zhou Xiui.
He casually picked up an orange from the fruit plate on the table, peeling it as he kindly said:
"Don’t be nervous; offstage, I’m just an ordinary person who loves listening to music."
He handed the peeled orange to Wen Xin, who was eagerly watching beside him, eliciting a delighted "Wow" from the little girl, who hurriedly thanked him.
Then, Cheng Jiashu took a tissue to wipe his hands, looking at Zhou Xiui, shifting to his ntor persona:
"There were so words I didn’t have ti to elaborate on stage earlier."
"Miss Zhou, your talent is significant, and the emotional explosiveness of that song is strong, but from a professional standpoint, you overdid it a bit in handling the second part of the chorus."
Zhou Xiui imdiately sat up straight, like a well-behaved student:
"Please guide , Teacher Cheng."
"Although this song belongs to the lyrical rock genre, singing isn’t about purely shouting or yelling."
Cheng Jiashu pointed to his diaphragm area, explaining patiently:
"Your emotions were too intense at the ti, causing a slight disruption in your breath, entirely relying on a good voice to withstand it."
"If it weren’t for your luck and exceptional performance, finding a supporting force, your vocal cords might have swollen from congestion on the spot."
Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered slightly.
This guy’s perception was sharp, actually noticing so signs.
Cheng Jiashu seemingly didn’t notice Fang Cheng’s gaze and continued:
"When I won the championship, I was about your age. Back then, I also thought that as long as the emotion was genuine, even singing off-key was a style."
"But after suffering so setbacks, I realized that to go far in this circle, technique and control are the armor that protects talent."
After speaking, he looked at Zhou Xiui, offering heartfelt advice:
"In the official competition, try to hold back when you sing. Learning to leave so things unsaid is more moving than laying everything bare."
"Thank you, Teacher Cheng! I will rember it!"
Zhou Xiui nodded vigorously, her eyes full of gratitude.
The other party not only gave her a pass card but also imparted experience without reservation as a senior, which touched her deeply.
"No need to thank . I just cherish talent; it would be too bad if such a good seedling were buried."
Cheng Jiashu smiled, then shifted the conversation, looking again at Fang Cheng sitting by:
"Of course, even the best singer needs a good work to support them."
"Mr. Fang, earlier I heard Miss Zhou say that this song ’Until the End of the World’ was a gift from you to her?"
Fang Cheng nodded, candidly admitting:
"Yes."
"This song is grandly written."
Cheng Jiashu leaned slightly forward, his peach blossom eyes sharp as if trying to see through Fang Cheng’s inner self:
"Especially the sense of desolation and redemption in the lyrics about the ’end of the world,’ depicted so realistically."
"Forgive my bluntness, but this doesn’t seem like sothing written by a man who only knows how to train in boxing. Where did Mr. Fang get his inspiration?"
"Actually, a friend of mine wrote the draft; I just added so finishing touches."
Fang Cheng, without changing his expression, shifted the burden to an imaginary "friend," shrugging:
"He’s an eccentric person who likes wandering around. I haven’t seen him in a while. He said he wrote this song while watching the sunset in the desert, probably faint from hunger at the ti."
"Hehe, wandering is good; only by wandering can there be stories."
Cheng Jiashu chuckled twice dryly, not continuing to question.
Then he picked up the desk phone and dialed a number:
"Sister Hui, co in for a mont."
Within a few seconds, the door was pushed open.
Zhang Hui walked in quickly, holding a pre-prepared docunt.
"Miss Zhou, Mr. Fang, let introduce you."
Cheng Jiashu pointed to Zhang Hui and said:
"This is my manager, Sister Hui. This National New Talent Singing Contest is also a channel for our company to select new talents."
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