Chapter 595: A Song for Myself

Chapter 595: A Song for Myself

After Feng Bu Jue's work was revealed, the venue fell into silence.

Perhaps the audience was hesitating… whether to applaud this troublemaker who’d been stirring up chaos throughout the entire event?

In a way, Feng Bu Jue suddenly taking things seriously in the final round actually left people feeling even more irritated…

If he’d just kept up the nonsense until the end, it would’ve been fine. But this performance? It was like he was saying, “Sorry, I was just messing with you all before.”

Even the seasoned host Oscar, for a moment, didn’t know how to react. Luckily, this round’s writing didn’t require him to read aloud the entire piece—he, like the audience, was watching the giant screen. So he could interject whenever he wanted, without needing to speak at a specific moment.

“Hmm… Everyone’s seen Bu Jue’s answer, I’m sure,” Oscar finally spoke after several moments, receiving the director’s instructions through his earpiece and regaining his composure. “Er… Bu Jue, to be honest, if you’d performed like this in the first two rounds, you probably wouldn’t be trailing now.”

“Hmph…” Feng Bu Jue scoffed coldly. “I doubt it.”

Oscar sensed something amiss but didn’t bite. He simply turned to the camera, shrugged, and walked toward the contestant area for seat number seven: “Then… let’s move on to today’s grand finale…” He gestured dramatically toward the screen. “Let’s unveil the final chapter written by Night Flame.”

The next second, Night Flame’s pride-and-joy work—crafted over an hour and a half—appeared on the screen.

In this round, his performance was indeed impressive. With Feng Bu Jue temporarily offstage, Night Flame’s mood had calmed. In this focused state, he’d crafted a high-quality ending.

Of course, this also had something to do with the “randomly” assigned novel itself. The production team had deliberately chosen a contemporary urban novel with a style similar to Night Flame’s but slightly inferior in quality. The original author hadn’t left too many plot holes, and the story’s framework was relatively simple… In short, the production team had provided various favorable conditions to lower Night Flame’s writing difficulty.

As Feiran had put it bluntly: “Director, I can only help you this much.”

“Wow! Night Flame is truly exceptional!” Soon after, Oscar exclaimed. “After seeing such a work… I feel like the suspense over Revival Night’s champion… is getting smaller and smaller.” He’d said a highly suggestive line even before the results were announced.

Immediately afterward, Night Flame’s fanbase led the cheers from the spectator stands. The director seized the moment, directing the entire audience to applaud and cheer along, while the on-site DJ timely inserted an epic Bgm. Together, they successfully created an extremely enthusiastic atmosphere.

After the commotion settled, Oscar wiped his brow, exhaled, and said: “Whew… Ladies and gentlemen, the tense moment has come again… Now, cast… your final vote of the night.” After saying this, he quickly added: “The voting time is… three minutes.”

This time, the production team directly displayed a countdown timer on the screen, clearly urging the audience to make their choices faster.

This move was equally advantageous for Night Flame, who had revealed his work last. The duration of the voting time wasn’t critical—the key was that it had a time limit. Once this concept was planted in the audience’s minds, they’d make decisions faster and think less thoroughly.

This way… the final chapter would naturally gain an advantage. First, because the memory was still fresh and the impression vivid; second, because the audience would need time to recall and savor the previous six works.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock…”

The DJ didn’t forget to help, timely inserting this sound effect into the audience areas, as if afraid they’d think too much…

…

Three minutes passed in the blink of an eye…

When the timer hit zero, Oscar promptly continued: “OK! Time’s up!” He turned to the audience: “On behalf of every contestant, thank you for making your choices thoughtfully.”

Having said that, he bowed, and the audience responded with applause.

“At this moment, the expert judges’ deliberation is still ongoing. Facing these seven outstanding answers, they must be extremely conflicted…” Oscar continued. “Of course, for our contestants, today’s competition has ended.” He turned toward the contestant area: “No matter the outcome, I believe… everyone has no regrets.” He slowly walked over: “Let’s now proceed with the second half of the Q&A session in a relaxed atmosphere.”

“Then we…” Oscar’s gaze swept over the seven writers: “will follow the ranking order from the previous round to ask the questions.” He stepped forward, arriving at contestant area number six: “We’ll start with Bu Jue, who’s currently in last place.” He looked at Feng Bu Jue: “Bu Jue, who would you like to ask a question?”

“Night Flame.” Feng Bu Jue didn’t hesitate, immediately turning his head to address his neighbor Night Flame directly: “May I ask… do you like writing?”

He asked suddenly, without going through Oscar, directly speaking into the microphone at the front of the contestant area.

Night Flame’s reaction was quick too—he didn’t want to seem like someone who’d been stumped by such a simple question. He responded immediately: “I began using the pen name ‘Night Flame’ for my writing a year ago.” He paused slightly: “I’ve loved literature deeply since childhood, reading many books and writing countless articles. After graduating from university, I made a living with my pen… Later, for my literary dream, I became a full-time writer.” His answer was quite clever, skillfully adding some crowd-pleasing remarks.

“Mmm, wishing you can walk further and further on your literary path,” Oscar added another compliment before turning to Feng Bu Jue: “Bu Jue, are you satisfied with Night Flame’s answer?”

“Answering irrelevantly, talking nonsense,” Feng Bu Jue replied expressionlessly with eight words.

In that instant, the entire venue’s atmosphere dropped to freezing…

Not just the audience—many staff members were left mentally short-circuited. Oscar himself, for the first time on camera, showed a stunned and flustered expression.

“What’s wrong?” Feng Bu Jue stared at the frozen Oscar: “Keep going. Next is Yamucha’s turn to ask questions.”

“Quick! Before Night Flame can argue with him, move!” Feiran urgently spoke through Oscar’s earpiece.

Oscar obeyed, swiftly sliding to contestant area number two… He rapidly adjusted his expression and began: “Alright… Next, Yamucha… who would you like to ask?”

“Er…” Yamucha’s gaze hadn’t yet shifted from Feng Bu Jue: “I want to ask Feng Bu Jue…” He didn’t turn his head, slightly tilting it toward the microphone: “I noticed earlier… recently, there’s a very popular online game where a famous player’s ID is very similar to your pen name. And he looks… quite alike too…”

“No comment,” Feng Bu Jue cut him off, then added in an educational tone: “Also, young man, don’t get addicted to games. Focus on writing books.”

“Alright… alright…” Yamucha’s mouth twitched, instantly backing down.

“Uncle Da! Uncle Da is more reliable! Hurry and go to Uncle Da!” Feiran quickly shouted through the channel.

Oscar, now completely clueless himself, simply followed the director’s orders. He didn’t even acknowledge Yamucha’s words, immediately turning to Uncle Da at seat number three: “Uncle Da, it’s your turn…”

“Oh, I’d like to ask… Qishui…” Uncle Da indeed proved reliable. Being middle-aged, he was skilled at reading the room and always left room for maneuver. Therefore, he chose to cooperate with the host and divert everyone’s attention.

Thus, Uncle Da immediately asked Qishui an irrelevant question, and Qishui gave a brief, polite answer.

Then, when it was Qishui’s turn to ask, he reciprocated Uncle Da with a similarly inconsequential question…

Through their joint efforts, the audience’s attention finally shifted away from Feng Bu Jue and Night Flame… and the on-site atmosphere gradually normalized.

After that, gothic sister Rose refused to ask questions and declared she’d also refuse to answer if anyone questioned her.

Next… it was Bandit General’s turn.

“I also want to ask… Night Flame,” Bandit General smiled, turning his head toward Night Flame: “How was today’s competition… enjoyable?”

Bandit General was clearly the most invested among all the contestants in this Resurrection Round, aside from Night Flame. Right from the start, he had subtly mocked Night Flame’s cheating with veiled remarks. But… that was all he could do. Deep down, Bandit General knew even without Night Flame, winning this round would still depend on others underperforming.

Still… now that things had escalated, Bandit General certainly wouldn’t miss the chance to add insult to injury, relishing the moment thoroughly.

“Hmph… Heh heh…” Night Flame’s laughter was painfully awkward. Harassed by Feng Bu Jue’s provocations, his mind was in chaos, and his words had become clumsy. Too many polite phrases sounded hypocritical, while being blunt risked looking petty.

Fifteen minutes later, in Feng Bu Jue’s Rest Room.

Artificial lighting, cameras, and recording equipment were all set. Oscar sat face-to-face with Feng Bu Jue, ready to begin the interview.

The previous recording session had been abruptly interrupted.

After the Cut, Night Flame descended from the stage to exchange a few words with the director before storming off with his entourage. However, the other contestants remained, completing the remaining scoring segments. Night Flame’s portion would be re-recorded separately.

Later… the entire Q&A segment of this episode was naturally cut. The production team spent countless hours editing, stitching together separately recorded footage to create the final master tape. Fortunately, since this Resurrection Round wouldn’t air until late Liu Month, post-production still had ample time.

“Ready to start?” Oscar asked, holding his script and glancing at Feng Bu Jue.

“Whenever you are.” Feng Bu Jue replied.

“Alright, Action!” the director commanded from his seat.

Oscar asked calmly, “Were you surprised by your elimination?”

“What do you think?” Feng Bu Jue shot the question back.

Oscar chuckled, appearing relaxed, like he was chatting with a friend, “Yeah… I guess it makes sense.” He dragged the progress bar on his tablet, “Let’s talk about the first round… You copied the lyrics verbatim?”

“I demonstrated them.” Feng Bu Jue said, “Call it plagiarism.”

Oscar nodded, “So… the second round’s tortoise-and-hare race story—”

“As I said, advanced plagiarism.” Feng Bu Jue replied.

“Why do this during the competition?” Oscar asked.

“To test audience reactions.” Feng Bu Jue answered.

“Do you really need to test that?” Oscar laughed, “Obviously, people will despise it.”

“Is that so?” Feng Bu Jue countered with another question, “Then why isn’t it the same on the bigger stage of reality? Can such a simple truth only become black-and-white here and now?”

Oscar hesitated, “That’s… complicated.”

“Are you saying… as long as someone cleans up for me after I succeed by any means, I can feel at peace? That I’ll truly be clean?” Feng Bu Jue added.

“You’ll offend your peers saying things like that.” Oscar joked, trying to steer the topic.

“Not just peers… Film and television media, game software, electronics…” Feng Bu Jue said, “I’ve seen too much—it’s numbing now.” He chuckled, “So when I saw my fanbase in the spectator stands booing me just now, I was delighted.”

Oscar fell silent for a few seconds, regarding Feng Bu Jue with a mixture of admiration before adjusting the tablet’s progress bar again, “In the third round, your performance was outstanding, taking less than half an hour total.”

“Believe it if you want.” Feng Bu Jue smiled.

At this moment, Oscar glanced at his script and signaled the crew behind. The sound engineer and camera operator immediately understood, halting the recording.

Changing his tone, Oscar said, “Basis regulations require every contestant here to say a few words to the writer who achieved Revival. Bu Jue, what do you think—”

“I have an idea.” Feiran, sitting in the room’s corner, suddenly interrupted, “Bu Jue, let’s discuss—”

Feng Bu Jue shot him a sideways glance, “Director… Your grudge against Night Flame runs deep, huh? I’ve already done this much to help you. What else do you want?”

At this point, everyone likely understood. Indeed… the one truly furious at Night Flame was the head director, Feiran.

As early as the “pre-competition pep talk,” Feiran had already struck a deal with Feng Bu Jue. These two scheming men had conspired to stage today’s Break Immersion chaos… and the guilty Night Flame could only swallow the humiliation.

On the evening of the eighth day of Liu Month, at Feng Bu Jue’s residence.

“You lot… don’t you have work or school tomorrow?” Feng Bu Jue sighed, looking at the crowd in his living room, his tone resigned.

Here sat Li Ruoyu, Wang Tan Zhi, Gu Xiaoling, An Yueqin, Bao Qing, Landlady Liu—this entire gang were gathered before his home theater screen, eagerly watching the unedited version of I’m a Writer—Revival Night he’d brought from the TV station.

“You should be happy to have guests.” Ou Yang Jian, holding an apple, strolled in from the kitchen, standing beside Feng Bu Jue, “By the way… Why’s there underwear in your fridge?”

Feng Bu Jue slowly turned his head, glaring at the lawyer, “What a bunch of cheek… Acting like you all own the place!” He snatched the apple from Ou Yang Jian’s hand, “I didn’t even invite you! Why are you here too?”

“I called him over on the way here.” An Yueqin, sitting nearby, raised her head to explain.

Ou Yang Jian smoothly took over, “Meaning we need a professional here to assess if any of Bu Jue’s actions in this episode could lead to lawsuits.” He retook the apple from Feng Bu Jue’s hand, “If there are issues… I’ll be prepared early.”

“You came to watch the show, plain and simple… yet you sound so reasonable…” Feng Bu Jue squinted skeptically, “I colluded with the director themselves! How could any incriminating evidence remain in the final broadcast version?”

“Shh—Quiet! It’s starting!” Xiao Tan exclaimed excitedly.

No sooner had he spoken than the show’s first scene appeared on the TV screen.

An hour later…

The competition’s main segment concluded, the video transitioned to backstage interviews. Alternating footage showed Oscar’s conversation with Feng Bu Jue and interviews with other writers.

“Bu Jue, before leaving our stage, would you like to say something to Night Flame, who advanced to the finals?” On-screen Oscar asked with a smile.

“Hmm… Sure…” The camera cut to Feng Bu Jue, who replied in a listless, drawn-out tone.

“Oh, by the way, according to our backstage analysis, you quoted numerous songs written or composed by Master Li Zongsheng today…” Oscar added, “How about using lyrics to deliver your message?”

“Ha, ha, ha…” Feng Bu Jue dryly chuckled three times, “Perfect idea…”

Then, as if prepared beforehand, he quickly began handwriting on the tablet:

【Things you desired yet could never obtain—how fate mocks a man.
What should’ve been forsaken, you clung to, tangled in trivialities.
When you realize compromise is a thief, it’s already stolen all your choices.
Fame and fortune are but a feverish dream; regret follows like an incurable cough.
I can forgive, yet cannot stop
the solitary night’s sorrow.
Naive youth feigns world-weariness.
Who gave you the courage to pretend?
Abandoned ideals sting like a slap.
Each line you remember strikes like a slap.
Then comes the self-loathing, the hatred of your own filth.】

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end