The Return

Qin Qing's natural voice was soft and slightly ethereal. The rasp and anguish he produced through technique were only passable.

But passable was good enough.

It was a livestream, after all. Viewers were fairly forgiving, especially toward a good-looking streamer.

Besides, what mattered most for a pop singer was a distinctive voice.

And a chance to make it big.

"What difference does the completion rate make?" Qin Qing asked.

"Of course it matters," the system said. "Put simply, completion rate measures how well the host understands and performs a song. The better you sing it, the more it spreads, and the faster your reputation grows."

"Oh."

"So basically, whether I sing it well," Qin Qing said.

Got it.

A system notification appeared:

It really does hand out missions at the drop of a hat.

Qin Qing fell into a deep sleep.

In his dreams, memories of his previous life and this one mingled.

Six in the morning.

Qin Qing woke with tears at the corners of his eyes.

He wiped them away.

From today on, I'll be a happy man.

Eat, earn money, show off and look cool.

From today on, I'll care about tips and popularity.

I have a dream: a home facing the sea, where spring is warm and flowers bloom.

After washing up, Qin Qing changed into workout clothes and went downstairs for a run around the block.

The original Qin Qing had never been in the habit of running.

Working part-time and practicing singing and dancing left him exhausted enough to fall asleep the moment he touched the bed.

Running was this Qin Qing's habit.

The entertainment industry was full of temptations. Before he knew it, Qin Qing had reached thirty and found himself steeping goji berries in tea like an old man.

Nothing beat good