PK in Progress!

For the past two or three days, Su Yunjin’s mind had been preoccupied with the matter of breaking off her engagement. She could only think of three possible ways forward. The first was that she herself would fall in love with someone else, then go to the Lu family to break off the engagement and apologize. The second was that Lu Yiqing would fall in love with someone else, go to her sect, and apologize. The third was that after spending time together, they would realize they weren’t suited for each other, return to their respective families, explain their incompatibility, and apologize.

But regardless of which scenario played out, Su Yunjin could foresee that her reputation would inevitably take a hit. As the heir to one of the Seven Great Sects, her future reputation was of particular importance.

Of course, she could also choose to take the blame herself—if Lu Yiqing did have someone he liked, she could graciously bow out, making a magnanimous statement at the Lu family that fate simply hadn’t favored their union. But Su Yunjin knew without even thinking about it that this path was unlikely. If Lu Yiqing were that kind of man, by now she would probably have been surrounded by one or several women demanding justice from her.

“How melodramatic!” she sighed heavily, rubbing her aching temples as she lay on the hotel bed. Warm sunlight streamed in through the window, no longer scorching but simply comforting. Below, the central park offered a beautiful view—lush green trees encircling a jade-clear spring, the scene refreshing and tranquil. Yet, at this moment, Su Yunjin found herself unable to appreciate any of it.

The issue of the engagement remained unresolved, but time, indifferent to anyone’s confusion, moved relentlessly forward.

Soon, it was time for the second live broadcast of Center Stage Girl Group. The publicity team had pulled out all the stops to promote this event. First, they conducted exclusive interviews with Su Yunjin and Tan Linfang, asking for their views on the upcoming face-off between their “Iron Maidens” group. Su Yunjin remained calm and composed, but Tan Linfang was visibly excited, bluntly declaring on camera that there would be two “first places” in the competition: the winner, and the last place.

This interview became a highlight of the promotion and quickly sparked a lively discussion online. Some supported Tan Linfang, eager to see her defeat Su Yunjin, while others found Tan Linfang a bit arrogant and believed the outcome was far from certain. With the help of hired internet promoters, the hype around this face-off eventually brought Center Stage Girl Group into the limelight.

Suddenly, the show became the talk of the town, and another wave of heated debate swept in. Su Yunjin, Tan Linfang, and the “Iron Maidens” group all trended on social media. This time, however, the trending topics felt hollow—obviously bought. Within a few hours, their popularity was overtaken by other hot topics.

Amidst all the chatter, Sunday arrived, and the second live broadcast of Center Stage Girl Group began!

“I’m so excited!”
“The producers are really ruthless this time.”
“No kidding—they’re making Su Yunjin and the Iron Maidens compete with ‘Mountain, Water, Wind, and Moon.’ This is a battle of reputations!”
“Excitement aside, don’t forget that Su Yunjin once took a photo with Zhang Zhichang. Who knows if...”

Within five minutes of going live, the show’s streaming room had attracted over 300,000 viewers. These viewers fell into two camps—one excited, the other skeptical. With both doubt and excitement swirling together, some inevitably brought up Su Yunjin’s past photo with Zhang Zhichang, hinting at possible behind-the-scenes manipulation. The live chat was flooded with speculation and accusations. Watching this from backstage, Zhang Zhichang observed coldly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he simply knew that, in due time, those spreading rumors would face his retaliation.

His frostbitten face betrayed no emotion.

Meanwhile, on the live stream, as the Center Stage Girl Group officially began, three elderly men with snow-white hair walked onstage at the host’s introduction.

“The Supreme Dean of the National Conservatory of Music, Tan Zhigao.”
“National First-Class Performing Artist, Zhang Yingcai.”
“National Special-Grade Music Master, a national treasure, Gao Linlin.”

“Today, these three will serve as mentors for Center Stage Girl Group. All results will be judged by them.”

With the host’s introduction, the previously buzzing venue fell utterly silent. Online, those still eager to accuse Su Yunjin of rigging the results were instantly stunned; but their silence lasted less than three minutes, for the spectacle before them was simply too astonishing.

“Whoa—national-level musicians?”
“The Supreme Dean of the National Conservatory?”
“No way, are they really the mentors today?”
“If these three are judging, doesn’t that mean Su Yunjin has no connections to pull?”
“Well, you never know—maybe she’s already built relationships behind the scenes. These elders are known to be easy to persuade, masters of social maneuvering.”

Despite these heavyweight guests, some skepticism persisted. Yet this skepticism was quickly and mercilessly dispelled.

“Hilarious—social maneuvering? Clearly, you haven’t read their resumes. These three oversee the annual national music talent selection.”
“They’re notorious for being unapproachable. Didn’t someone recently try to use connections and got publicly reprimanded?”
“Exactly—these three absolutely won’t cheat.”
“If even they could be bribed, it would destroy all credibility for those beneath them.”

There are always those who hold fast to their principles. Tan Zhigao, Zhang Yingcai, and Gao Linlin were precisely such people. Their high status had earned them a fierce reputation throughout the industry.

The onlookers, sensing the drama, found it entertaining. But for the contestants, hearing the names of these mentors sent a chill down their spines.

Musicians.
Artists.
The three most exacting figures in all the musical world.

With these three as mentors, what hope was left for the contestants?

On camera, many competitors were already furrowing their brows, the pressure immense. Unfortunately for them, aside from a brief camera cut to their anxious faces, no one paid them much attention.

The lights gradually dimmed. Suddenly, from the center of the stage, the beat of a drum sounded, followed by a familiar melody—“Mountain, Water, Wind, and Moon” began at that very moment.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

The drumbeats rang out, but unlike last time, the bass drum was not so heavy; instead, it sounded crisp. As the drums began, strings soon joined in, then the guqin and the zither.

The number of instruments grew, much as before, but soon, within this rich tapestry of sound, a long, melodious note arose.

Amid the soaring instruments, this note wound through like a flowing ribbon, weaving through the music without end.

In that moment, a single place appeared in everyone’s mind—a temple of old.

The music grew simpler, then somber, until at last only that long, echoing tone remained, reverberating like the depths of a dry well.

All around was darkness; the stage shone bright, and in that moment, every heart found peace.