The scenery was as poetic as a poem and as beautiful as a painting.
When he heard Jiang Siming's song, Brother Huan, sitting below the stage, revealed a bitter smile. A sense of helplessness spread through his entire body.
He could no longer defeat Jiang Siming, this dark horse who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Although he felt somewhat disappointed, Brother Huan was even more gratified.
Because the Chinese music scene needed fresh blood like this. It needed such astonishingly talented people to take up the scepter of the Chinese music scene.
The older generation of singers had ultimately grown old. They no longer possessed the spirituality they had in their youth, and their inspiration was gone.
Unlike when they were young, when they could casually come up with a new song just by thinking about it.
Take Jay Chou in the past, for example. He had written songs at an almost heaven-defying speed, producing one song in ten minutes and at least one album a year, with at least three exceptionally high-quality songs on each album.
But now that he was older, his speed at releasing songs had fallen far behind what it used to be. To be honest, the quality of his songs was also inferior to that of his peak period.
For a singer, their peak period was inevitably their youth, because writing songs required inspiration.
It was like practicing martial arts. People chose to start when they were at their youngest, because that was when their bones were the most malleable.
Of everyone, He Jiu was the happiest about Jiang Siming's performance.
He walked onto the stage with the votes that had already been tallied and made his way to the center.
"The vote count is out. Jiang Siming received 2,755 votes this round!"
Although