šµ Do you still remember the spring years ago, when I had yet to cut my long hair? šµ
There was no musical intro. Chu Zhi lowered his voice and sang, not bothering to force a raspy tone. The 99% Voice of Despair woven into the song was already enough.
Why not a full hundred percent? According to the system, hitting one hundred percent would be like an indistinguishable mental attack, blurring reality. There were still many local listeners in the crowd, not just foreigners. There was no need to go that far.
šµ No credit card, no girl by my side, no warm home with twenty-four-hour hot water. šµ
Despair laced with Chu Zhi's masterful technique conjured up the image of a down-and-out singer. The kind of man who had been broken by life, but kept singing anyway.
šµ But back then, I was so happy, even though I only had a broken wooden guitar.Ā On the streets, under the bridge, across the fields, I sang those songs no one cared to hear.Ā If one day I grow old and have no one to rely on, please leave me behind... back in that time.Ā And if one day, I quietly disappear, please bury me here, in this springtime. šµ
Strumming his guitar, Chu Zhi's voice was soft. But even so, the loneliness was impossible to miss.
"If one day... Did that not mean he already felt alone now?"
Zheng Huo was stunned. He had expected a dazzling, rock-opera-style performance, something grand and dramatic like a return to the Tang Dynasty. He never imagined Chu Zhi would sing with raw emotion instead.
One classic song after another had burst out of him in the past, showcasing technical brilliance. Many professionals and fans had forgotten that Chu Zhi had made his comeback through emotional singing.
Winter Snow Burst's four members looked shaken. This was far from the art rock they had been expecting, far from the fusion with bel canto. This was something else entirely.
šµ Do you remember those lonely springs, when I had yet to grow a beard?Ā No Valentine's Day, no gifts, no lovely little princess of mine.But I didn't think it was so bad, even if love only existed in my fantasies. šµ
There was no screaming. No fake rasp. And yet the loneliness and helplessness sank into every listener's heart.
Even the international audience, who weren't glued to the live translation screen and couldn't understand the lyrics, could still feel it. The emotion carried through.
They saw a man in his thirties or forties. Achieving nothing.
Worn down. Broke.
Ashamed. Broke.
Alone. Broke.
It's not that bad?
It was terrible. He had nothing. The audience felt it deep in their bones. They had come to hear rock music, so why did it feel like they were being crushed instead?
In complete contrast to Winter Snow Burst's earlier high-octane emotional rock, Chu Zhi's performance was like a bucket of ice water poured over the entire crowd.
And the worst part hadn't even come yet. Chu Zhi kept strumming his guitarā
šµ In the morning, at night, in the wind, I sang those songs no one cared to hear.Maybe one day, when I grow old and have no one to rely on, please leave me behind, back in that time.And if one day, I quietly disappear, please bury me... in this springtime. In springtime! šµ
His voice rose at last, not through falsetto or vocal tricks, but with raw, unfiltered power. It was like punching a concrete wall barehandedāno gloves, no protection. The sound hit, and the bones showed through the skin.
No one cared.
In springtime.
Those two phrases stabbed through the heart like a pair of ice picks. Wherever the listener had a scar, that's where it hurt.
The lyrics of In Springtime, paired with 99% Voice of Despair, hurt too much to bear.
"Is this what ordinary people do when they can't accept reality? Pretend that dying unclaimed in the wilderness is being "buried in spring"?" Big Eyes whispered to himself.
"How can he write something like this?"
"Writing it is one thing. But why does he sing it so vividly?" someone else muttered. "I remember when Chu Zhi debuted. He was already at the peak."
The members of Pain Flower had all come from hard times. Before they became famous, the five of them had shared a basement, surviving on 300 yuan a month.
Good singers know how to build emotion, layer by layer. They coax the audience in with sweetness... then strike.
It's like writing a tragedy disguised as fluff. First, you feed the readers candy. Then, out of nowhere, you stab them through the chest. Slice!
The emotional climb of In Springtime went from broke... to sorrow... to loneliness... to despair.
By the time the final verse approached, even Chu Zhi's own expression had gone blank. A 90% Voice of Despair effect influenced the performer, too.
At 99%, even Chu Zhi couldn't help but think about Earth.
His mother had developed depression after his father cheated. Chu Zhi, still a child then, had never dared complain to her.
Later, when he moved to the Magic Capital for work, no matter how hard or exhausting it became, he had no one to lean on. Sometimes, when his mother spiraled into suicidal thoughts, he'd have to rush home and find a way to comfort her. Convince her to see a doctor.
šµ Staring into this radiant spring, still as warm as I remember.Ā I cut my long hair and grew a beard. The pain of the past has faded with the wind.Ā But I feel only sorrow. Time has left me more confused than ever.Ā In this sun-drenched springtime, my tears won't stop falling. šµ
The sunlight was warm. So why did he feel so cold?
The despair in Chu Zhi's voice had become something tangible, hovering over the stage like a storm cloud.
Time doesn't heal people. It only teaches them to live with pain. In the end, we all carry our suffering.
The despair spread like a plague, radiating outward from Chu Zhi at the center. Many in the audience started crying without realizing it. Tear tracks ran down their faces like crosswalk lines.
Even if they'd never grown long hair, even if they never had a beard, the imagery made it easy to relate.
"I just came here to hear some rock music... was this really necessary?" Polygon dabbed at his eyes, trying to be discreet. As the team leader, he couldn't let the others see him break down.
But if he had just turned around, he would have seen Triangle, Square, and the others wiping their own tears too.
Some wept because the song reminded them of their own past. Some wept for Chu Zhi, because the despair in his music was so real.
šµ Maybe one day, when I grow old and have no one to rely on, please leave me behind, back in that time.Ā And if one day, I quietly disappear, please bury me... in this springtime. In springtime. šµ
Chu Zhi ended the song with no soaring high note. No dramatic cry like in the original version. He brought it down, close to the whisper of someone on the verge of death.
When the song finished, the audience felt like their souls had been gouged out. They were still alive, yes... but something was missing.
No applause. No cheers.
Thousands of listeners sat in stunned silence. You could hear people quietly sobbing.
Compared to the noise of the other stages, Stage Three had become an anomaly. In fact, in all the years of the music festival, no one had ever sung rock and left the crowd in this kind of state.
Was it strange?
Not really. Even Chu Zhi hadn't fully recovered. He had to take several deep breaths before pulling himself back to normal.
The four members of Winter Snow Burst exchanged glances. Wide eyes met wide eyes, and in each other's gaze, they saw the shimmer of tears.
"Are we... going to get eliminated?"
"If the audience can snap out of this emotion quickly, maybe we still have a chance."
"I remember when we first formed our student band... even then I couldn't break free from songs like this. Forget the audience."
The band members muttered to each other in low voices.
===
"ę„天é" (In Springtime)
Chun Tian Li
Original Artist: Xu Song (č®ø嵩) or Wang Feng (ę±Ŗå³°), covered by Xuriyanggang (ęę„é³å)
Note: Known colloquially as a "construction site anthem" due to its popularity among working-class listeners. Originally famous across mainland China for its raw emotion and lyrics about hardship, aspiration, and aging.