Chapter 141: Lin Ze Lost?

"I thought you guys would ask me about this lamp." Lin Ze said with a cheerful chuckle.

He reached inside his clothes and pulled out a few wires and a switch.

These wires were all connected beneath his clothing, while in his hand he held a remote control featuring several buttons.

Each button corresponded to a different light.

"I salvaged all of these from a solar system toy and wired them up myself."

"Brother Lin keeps playing the mysterious guy." Li Xiyan laughed out loud.

"Oh well, some netizen who understands will end up explaining it to everyone." Lin Ze waved his hand dismissively. "It just feels kind of weird explaining it myself."

"Still, Teacher Lin... songs like this are wonderful, but if people don't understand them, won't it affect the competition to some extent?" Liang Xiang asked.

"What does it matter?" Lin Ze detached the lights from his body with unconcern. "The essence of making music is sharing it for people to listen to; the competition isn't the real goal."

"Does this song sound good?" Lin Ze looked around at the people gathered about.

"It sounds great." Zhou Qiao nodded.

"Then that's enough."

Rong Zhengyu's song had also been crafted with immense effort.

The audience truly got their money's worth today.

Finally, everyone returned to the stage to begin the voting process.

Holding their voting devices, the audience members suddenly felt a bit hesitant about how to cast their votes.

Just moments earlier, they had been complaining that the show was becoming less and less engaging, but now they felt...

Everyone on stage was simply amazing!

People recalled the sea of stars that had suddenly bloomed in pitch darkness, as well as the train that waded through a sea of humanity, forged ahead through the gloomy subterranean depths, and finally burst out into the wilderness.

Though Lin Ze's song was undeniably beautiful, what on earth did Mercury have to do with the lyrics he sang?

With such thoughts lingering in their minds, the voting commenced.

After hesitating for a moment and seeing that time was almost up, they hurriedly pressed the voting buttons.

The final tally was locked in.

First place...

Xu Shenshen!

Obviously, the train performance—which everyone had understood instantly and immersed themselves in deeply—won the favor of the majority.

And in second place, Lin Ze.

His vote count trailed Xu Shenshen by a mere three votes.

Following them were Panda, Zhou Qiao, Liang Xiang, Rong Zhengyu, and Li Xiyan.

Once again, Li Xiyan fell short because of her composition.

Elder Shi and Xu Shenshen had initially anticipated feeling elated upon defeating Lin Ze, but now, winning by a margin of only three votes brought them nowhere near as much joy as they had imagined.

Although everyone who watched the competition had signed confidentiality agreements, word-of-mouth about who took first and second place inevitably leaked out.

This marked the first time Lin Ze had ever lost to someone else. As the day passed, Weibo was flooded with people asking what had happened on the show.

Many fans were unwilling to accept Lin Ze's defeat, especially since the one who beat him was Elder Shi.

Some extreme fans went so far as to claim that Lin Ze had run out of talent, or began accusing him of not taking his songwriting seriously anymore.

Rational fans tried to calm everyone down.

After all, Elder Shi had once been hailed as the God of Lyrics and Composition; it was hardly surprising if he occasionally delivered a peak performance that surpassed Lin Ze.

Lin Ze remained silent the entire time, until Friday night.

He posted a selfie of himself lounging on a sofa.

"Family, Sister Zitan says my acting was too terrifying and won't let me enter the room. What should I do..."

Those who had been bickering earlier suddenly remembered upon seeing this post that *I Am an Actor*, the show Lin Ze participated in, had premiered today, allowing everyone to witness his acting skills firsthand.

For a long time, people had debated how good Lin Ze's acting really was, and today the show was finally online!

Everyone swarmed in flocks to find the segment featuring Lin Ze.

With messy hair and a casual posture as he sat on the stage, Lin Ze's eyes seemed unremarkable at first glance, but upon closer observation, they carried a chilling, hair-raising terror.

[The entertainment circle is so messed up, it wouldn't even surprise me if Lin Ze has actually killed someone.]

[Anyway, I've tagged @EastChinaPolice. I suspect he and that previous actor committed crimes together.]

[I never expected Lin Ze to be so lively and cheerful in daily life, but this is truly unexpected.]

Seeing the barrage of comments floating across the screen only heightened everyone's curiosity.

Scenes like this, which didn't rely on explosive outbursts of various emotions, were much harder to act than dramatic ones.

Driven by curiosity, viewers continued watching, only to be effortlessly drawn in by Lin Ze's casual words.

[Holy crap, when Brother Lin smiled just now, a chill ran straight down my spine!]

[Why does he make it sound so real, just like something that actually happened? What did that smile mean? I suggest a thorough investigation!]

The stage limitations restricted his performance to an extent; with complete props, he might genuinely have surpassed the original version.

Just as everyone was deep in discussion, Shen Lei's harsh critique abruptly appeared.

No emotional changes?

For a moment, people didn't know whether this person was trolling or not, and question marks popped up all over their heads.

Had this university professor never watched a legal program?

This video was an interrogation scene, a confession—who on earth would burst into tears and screams during a moment like that?

With standards like that, you're a professor?

As the video continued, Shen Lei became increasingly absurd, eventually giving him a score of zero straight out.

The fury in the hearts of numerous netizens instantly surged to their heads.

I wish to transform into a keyboard immortal, and pray that everyone in the world may wield a keyboard!

A quick search on Weibo about Shen Lei revealed that her bizarre antics went far beyond just this incident.

The students she taught were notorious for comical acting. One male student played a period drama where he hugged a woman and wailed loudly without a single tear falling, earning him the title of the "Champion of Powerless Barking."

Then, he pecked a female actor right on the forehead, looking as though he wanted to suck out her brain matter.

Another female student endured whip lashes in a historical drama with her facial expression completely unchanged, while a neighboring maid rushed over in tears, crying and screaming that her young mistress was about to be whipped to death.

In a later interview, this actress even claimed she acted that way to demonstrate the female protagonist's unyielding, iron will.

Shen Lei herself wasn't a stranger to acting; apart from the very first film she shot in her life, she played herself in every single role thereafter, characterized by over-acting and extreme exaggeration.

"And you have the nerve to critique this and that?"

"Is there a single normal actor that came out of your hands?"

"I just watched her works and found out this person can cry so hard from sudden joy that she retches, and smile like a psycho when feeling secretly pleased. Is this person really a teacher?"

Shen Lei's quiet Weibo page was instantly flooded and besieged.

Facing the overwhelming wave of skepticism, Shen Lei had no choice but to step forward.

On the third day after the broadcast, Shen Lei posted a video.

In the video, Shen Lei had somehow managed to borrow an interrogation chair and used handcuffs to secure herself to it.

"Hello everyone, I will now present my own performance of this segment."