Chapter 37: The Pain of Losing Weight

Since the first season of “A Song to Fame” aired, countless singers had graced its stage. Some possessed beautiful voices, others were astonishingly mediocre; many were gifted, and talent was not in short supply. Yet, only a handful ever advanced to the final round and basked in the public’s adulation.

Fortunately, Lin Chuan was now one of them.

According to the show’s rules, once a contestant reached the top eight, what mattered was no longer just vocal prowess. Popularity and attention became crucial, often determining the ultimate champion.

Statistics showed that in the previous two seasons, the highest vote count for a contestant was 493—a record unbroken for two years. Yet today, when the results flashed across the giant screen, both the host and Lin Chuan himself were dumbfounded. Even the audience stared, open-mouthed, at the final number frozen on the display.

“Five... five hundred votes?” The host’s voice trembled in disbelief as she uttered the figure that stunned everyone.

Five hundred. An ordinary number in isolation, but on this stage, it was nothing short of a miracle. Five hundred votes meant every single person in the auditorium had cast their precious ballot for Lin Chuan. Never in the show’s history had such a thing occurred. No matter how outstanding other contestants were, no matter how high their popularity soared, it was impossible to garner such unanimous support. After all, every audience member had their own favorite—who would ever vote for a rival?

But the impossible had happened: everyone, without exception, had chosen Lin Chuan.

What did this mean? It meant he advanced—without question.

A wave of excitement swept the room. The audience surged to their feet, cheering and applauding as if the honor belonged to them personally. The host, recovering from her shock, approached Lin Chuan with a beaming smile.

Meanwhile, those watching the live broadcast at home erupted into celebration. Some girls threw their arms around their friends, crying and laughing at the same time, overwhelmed with joy. To them, Lin Chuan’s advancement to the semifinals meant he would return to the stage, and they would once again see his silhouette and hear his soul-stirring songs.

For many fans, that was enough.

Amid the jubilation, Lin Chuan exited the stage. It was still a competition—he had not yet claimed the crown, and the stage was not his alone. Returning to the room where his friends waited, he had barely stepped inside when Huang Quan rushed forward and enveloped him in a tight embrace.

“Ha! Xiao Chuan, that ‘Camellia’ you just sang was incredible! How did you pull that off?”

The others crowded around, eyes brimming with envy, admiration, and a hint of resentment.

Resentment, indeed—for Lin Chuan’s perfect five hundred votes and seamless advancement had put immense pressure on the rest. With one slot easily claimed, the odds for everyone else shrank dramatically. For the remaining contestants, it was a calamity.

Fang Hao approached, smiling. “You didn’t disappoint me.”

Lin Chuan nodded, smiling back. “Thank you,” he replied softly.

The competition continued with fervor. After the earlier climax, the atmosphere cooled somewhat, and the pressure on the contestants mounted. When the last performance ended, the screen displayed each singer’s vote count.

The top four would proceed to the semifinals; the rest would be eliminated.

Lin Chuan, with his record-breaking five hundred votes, took first place and advanced without suspense. Second was Fang Hao with 490. The third spot went to a young woman—barely more than a college student—who won 472 votes. When the fourth-place tally appeared—442, just two votes ahead of fifth—the crowd sighed with both regret and relief.

Such is reality: two votes may as well be an ocean apart. One soars to the ends of the earth; the other is stranded.

“Well done, Huang Quan—you made it to the semifinals!” Lin Chuan congratulated his friend beside him. Huang Quan was the one who’d narrowly escaped elimination.

“Whew!” Huang Quan exhaled, his face pale. Only after a long pause did he murmur, “That scared me—I thought I was done for!”

No sooner had he spoken than he felt a sharp gaze from nearby. Turning, he saw the fifth-place contestant—the one eliminated by a hair’s breadth—watching him with thinly veiled bitterness. Huang Quan offered an awkward smile and quickly looked away.

The host delivered a few advertisements, congratulated the advancing contestants, and then announced the drawing of lots to determine the next round’s matchups.

As the evening’s top scorer, Lin Chuan approached the crystal bowl, heart pounding, and reached in. He dreaded drawing Huang Quan—since the auditions, they’d been the closest of friends, and facing off in the semifinals would be painful for both, no matter the outcome. There was another he hoped to avoid: Fang Hao, the perpetual challenger, whose background and ability were formidable. If fate pitted them against each other, it would be a tough fight. That left only the college girl. She wasn’t a dazzling beauty, but her doll-like face endeared her to everyone.

Would he face her? Lin Chuan sighed inwardly and withdrew his hand.

He opened the slip—and his mind buzzed as he read the name: Fang Hao.

The host strode over. Seeing Fang Hao’s name, he couldn’t help but glance at the man. Fang Hao, as if anticipating this, gave a faint, inscrutable smile.

The semifinal matchups were set, and the host announced them to all. When fans heard Lin Chuan would face Fang Hao next, excitement and anticipation flashed across their faces. Among the four advancing contestants, only Lin Chuan and Fang Hao were favored to win the championship. Most expected them to meet in the final, not before, and while it was a shame to see their showdown come early, the anticipation was palpable.

Clashes between titans were always spectacular. Though the next round was still some time away, fans buzzed with excitement.

Compared to Lin Chuan and Fang Hao, the hottest contenders, Huang Quan and the girl drew far less attention, their roles relegated to supporting characters in the championship drama.

Surrounded by security, Lin Chuan exited through a secret passage, where Yuan Ye’s BMW waited at the curb. Wang Yue, Tang Qinru, and Lin Yiyang stood nearby, faces tense with worry.

“Daddy!” Lin Yiyang spotted him and dashed over.

Lin Chuan scooped his son up, rubbing his stubbly jaw affectionately against the boy’s cheek, sending him into peals of laughter. Wang Yue and Tang Qinru exchanged a smile, warmth in their eyes.

Suddenly, a group of shadows came running, shouting, “There’s Lin Chuan! Over here!” Yuan Ye barked, “Quick, get in the car!” Wang Yue and Tang Qinru hurriedly opened the doors and piled in.

As the car sped away, fans and reporters rushed after them, but it was too late. Breathless complaints and cries of disappointment filled the air—they had missed Lin Chuan by a hair’s breadth. What a pity...

“Where to?” Yuan Ye asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to see no one gave chase.

“Daddy, I’m hungry!” Lin Yiyang pouted before his father could reply, eyes pleading.

As a responsible father, Lin Chuan could hardly let his son go hungry. He waved a hand. “Let’s get something to eat!”

“Dinner, eh? Rare for you to treat us, Xiao Chuan. So, where to?” Yuan Ye grinned.

Lin Chuan pondered, struggling internally before finally gritting his teeth and declaring, “Let’s hit a barbecue stall. We’ll get some grilled food!”

“What?” Yuan Ye, Wang Yue, and Tang Qinru exclaimed in unison.

“Don’t look at me like that—barbecue is already a luxury! For the five of us, it’ll cost at least a hundred, maybe a hundred and eighty yuan!” Lin Chuan said with feigned bravado.

“Stingy—so stingy, Xiao Chuan! I’ve never met anyone as tightfisted as you!” Yuan Ye grumbled as he drove.

Tang Qinru, normally at odds with him, for once didn’t argue, but nodded in agreement. “Exactly, Brother Chuan. Barbecue’s fine, but with a hundred or so, what can we really eat...?”

Watching their banter, Lin Chuan frowned, then retorted, perfectly composed, “Xiao Tang, you’re a woman—you should be watching your figure, especially at night. The less you eat at dinner, the better. If you gain weight, losing it is pure misery...”

“You—!” Tang Qinru fumed, unable to get the words out.

Losing weight was, indeed, sheer misery.