Silence.
The whole studio went quiet like Fengdu Ghost City at four in the morning. Everyone on set, even the camera crew, stared slack-jawed.
Azazel, the angel singer who spread God's gospel, was Asian?
Come on, that joke was way too big. Austin felt like he couldn't process it, worse than the time he put on his wife's underwear by mistake at dawn.
"China's pop king, Chu Zhi?!" Duncan, who was Korean American, recognized him first. Every paper in Seoul had been plastered with his face. You'd have to try not to know him.
"Ah—" Duncan yelped when Jennifer's razor nails dug into his arm. He turned to complain, then saw her shocked face, eyes so wide they made wrinkles on her forehead. She couldn't even control the kind of expression that made fans unfollow.
"My God, it's the most famous Chinese singer, Chu Zhi. Did the show plan a giant prank?" Hartman clutched her, well, very noticeable chest.
"Duncan, you know this Chinese singer?" Austin asked.
"You don't?" Duncan blinked. The old white guy's look said, why should I know a Chinese singer?
"He's the Asian star who saved physical albums in the internet era. He sang last year's World Cup theme, the Spanish one," Duncan said. "His album All Nations, Vol. 1 sold sixteen million copies, best in the last ten years. And I think he topped the Forbes Global Celebrity list three years in a row."
Austin realized he was out of touch. Even if he wasn't a music buff, that number for one album was scary. There was really an Asian pop star this strong?
Jennifer and Hartman heard too. The Chinese singer in the center, already handsome, suddenly looked even brighter. First on the global list three years straight, how much money had he made?
"So it was him, it was him all along. I should've guessed. That young tone with skills you can't even describe, only that terrifying Chinese guy could pull it off," Duncan muttered.
Chaos rippled through the room. Where was the host to steady the ship? Sorry, Nick was on his earpiece with the director, trying to confirm if someone was impersonating Azazel.
"If this is a prank, it sucks," Nick muttered.
"Azazel's been Mr. Chu Zhi since his first song. It's not a prank," Lukinskyy's voice came back, firm.
"Jesus Loves Me" was sung by a Chinese singer? Nick's jaw eased open, teeth gleaming, but the words in his ear were already pushing him to take control.
"Heh, ladies and gentlemen," Nick said. "I know Azazel's true face shocked everyone. I asked the director again, and yes, Azazel is Mr. Chu Zhi."
Case closed.
The four surviving masked singers kept their masks on, so you couldn't see their faces, but you could imagine them.
"Azazel is Chu Zhi?" Himalaya Horman thought of his buddy Leighton, who'd just posted online about loving Azazel. So it was the same person from start to finish?
"F… cool," Horman corrected mid curse. "Leighton's beyond saving. Even with a hood hiding the identity, he still worshiped him with no hesitation, what a load of crap." Jealousy flared, then faded. Chu Zhi's skill level was way beyond his.
"Madson lost to a Chinese singer, his face must be priceless," Kara thought.
"So it was him. No wonder I felt the same crushing pressure as last time. My gut was right," Cannon Danny thought.
"Singers who break ten million aren't simple. I just didn't expect Chu Zhi to have legendary skill at his age. Another Chinese prodigy," Red Lion Goran thought, with Tao Zhexuan popping up as her first image of a Chinese genius.
None of the four masked singers were steadfast believers. Cannon Danny even liked to swear to God while lying, so they accepted reality quickly.
A lot of the audience were believers though. They didn't believe, or didn't want to admit, that the closest person to God's message was Chinese.
Rayne sighed. Forget science, they weren't even following theology.
"Mr. Chu Zhi, would you sing another song for us?" Nick asked.
"I didn't prep anything, so I'll sing something well known, Amazing Grace," Chu Zhi said.
No prep, my foot, Nick grumbled inside. Every eliminated singer got a farewell slot.
Still, this wasn't in the script. He was going to sing a cappella.
Huh?
Nick lost the plot. Today's rundown felt like a tangled ball of yarn.
"Can't wait," Nick said, giving him the stage.
A cappella for Amazing Grace took guts.
The hymn dated back to the eighteenth century, famous in both this parallel world and ours. In America it was the gospel standard, known in China as "奇异恩典"(Qíyì ēndiǎn). It was so famous that expectations were impossible to raise.
He opened eighty percent Angel's Gospel Voice, layered fifty percent Siren Voice. He wanted the believers to hear that if he wanted to, he could preach anywhere, anytime.
With the first note, familiar lines rolled through the hall. He opened his mouth, and it felt like an angel descended.
🎵"Amazing grace, so sweet the sound, it saved someone like me, I once was lost, now I'm found, was blind, now I can see.
Such grace that taught my heart to fear, then grace my fears relieved, Through countless snares and storms I've come, by grace I still believe."🎵
The added timbre tilted those who a minute ago refused to admit a Chinese singer could be closest to God. Hearts wavered.
Too pure.
Too beautiful.
People drowned in the voice.
🎵"From first belief that grace appeared, how precious did it seem, It broke the nets, through trials I've walked, I'm on my way redeemed."🎵
There were a thousand covers in America, from the Vienna Boys' Choir to the Three Tenors. With that many versions, how high could you set your hopes?
And yet, now, many believers crossed themselves. That Chinese singer was a seraph.
"Lord, is this Your will?"
"This is the best version I've ever heard, even a cappella."
"I believe it now. God's messenger doesn't have a skin color. He's God's messenger."
Hearts spun a full one-eighty. Like Horman said earlier, if he chose to preach, not joining a church would be a waste.
🎵"The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures, Through life and death He'll be my stay, with Him I will endure."🎵
It was so familiar that normally a crowd full of believers would start a chorus, but no one did. Everyone stayed quiet, just listening to the a cappella.
The voice felt like a warm morning by the sea, a soft breeze making your shoulders relax, then, one second later, it cut off.
Chu Zhi stopped two thirds in.
Nick couldn't help asking, "Mr. Chu Zhi, what happened?"
"I'll keep it short. I didn't prep the rest," he said.
"???"
Nick stared, hardly believing it. What kind of line was that? Stopping halfway, wasn't that just teasing the audience?
What next, deliver a baby halfway too? Nick had no words.
The audience felt even worse. They'd been mid soul massage, then it got cut off. Who could stand that?
The Emperor Beast bowed like a gentleman, said the performance was over, then left the stage. Nick was the host, sure, but he had nothing to fault.
"Mr. Chu Zhi's a cappella was a work of art. I really want a full version," Nick said when he returned to wrap things up.
"Please give Mr. Chu Zhi a hand."
Usually, when Nick closed a segment, the crowd clapped on cue. Today, after being cut off mid rapture, the claps were weak.
This episode was more exhausting than a marathon, Nick thought.
The panel left, still haunted by that stage.
"I want to find Chu Zhi and get a signature. My mom loves him," Jennifer said.
"You don't just want a signature," Hartman said. "You want dinner, then a movie, then a private room."
"If he's open to more than friendship, I won't object," Jennifer said.
Duncan wanted to sprint to Instagram and post that Azazel was Chu Zhi, but he had to hold the secret in for a week. It itched.
Austin walked and scrolled, reading everything he could about Chu Zhi. The more he learned, the more shocked he got. Monster.
The panel left first. Then the audience filed out. Rayne, frail as always, drifted with the last.
He found believers funny. On one hand they embraced Jesus Loves Me and Amazing Grace as God's gospel, on the other they rejected The Internationale, flipping back and forth.
The Internationale and Christianity weren't exactly related, not even close.
He could sing gospel with a voice that felt divine, then sing The Internationale with a force that sounded like he was about to topple the White House.
Rayne felt the Chinese singer was a lot like him, a fusion of two extremes. He decided to buy Chu Zhi's albums.
"I can't imagine my grandpa's face when he watches episode three."
"My grandma fell for both of Azazel's songs."
"No Christian can hear Jesus Loves Me and not respect Azazel. If he hadn't sung The Internationale, he'd be God's messenger, full stop."
"But his Amazing Grace was intoxicating…"
People kept chatting in clusters as they left.
FOX wrapped the final episode too. The Emperor Beast slipped away, turned down Lukinskyy's dinner invitation. The guy even tried one last time to invite him to the Hudson Club.
Once was enough for a serious refusal. Twice felt like pestering.
"Those hours flying to LA weren't wasted," Chu Zhi said as he stepped into the elevator, heading for the level two garage.
From the Magic City to Los Angeles took more than ten hours. If it wasn't important, he hated the back-and-forth.
After episode three, he'd be Hollywood's hot commodity. The goal was met. Missing the "King of Masked Singer" title was just a small thing.
Yeah, set big goals and small goals. Besides, he wasn't going to keep filming anyway. He had to dive into Besieged on All Sides promo.
He didn't know how many physicals China's market could move. The mainland record for the last decade was four hundred seventy thousand. Not great.
Don't sneer. The whole physical business had been rough, especially culture and entertainment. Even in print, two hundred thousand copies could make a bestseller now.
Even with that climate, Niu Jiangxue and the team still set a goal of a million, a new record by a mile. They believed in him that much. He felt a bit of pressure. He didn't want to let anyone down.
Back in the van, Ma Weihao hadn't come to LA this time, so no massage to unwind.
"Have endorsement deals dropped lately?" he asked Lao Qian.
"About ten percent fewer than last year, but the per-deal fee's up, so overall revenue didn't fall," Lao Qian said. "Plus, we've licensed more for Indonesia and Malaysia, the structure's healthier."
"Don't worry, I trust the team. I only asked because the schedule feels loose," he said.
"Loose?" Lao Qian popped open the calendar. From eight in the morning to ten at night, there wasn't a single hour free. He even handled emails on the way to the airport.
"Looser than before. Feels like I've got nothing to do. Lunch is longer too," he nodded.
"… Jiu-yé, please take care of your health," Lao Qian said.
He flashed an all good gesture. With his system bro watching over him, he wasn't worried.
After some small talk, he dug into emails and saw FOX's promo plan. Variety contracts came with a cooperation clause for publicity.
No mystery about the headlines.
[Azazel Unmasks]
[His True Face Will Be Revealed]
[Legend Azazel, The One No One Expected]
FOX started the push Monday. North America exploded. Viewers and press were stunned.
How could a champion get eliminated like that?
A blunt critic, "Uncle Tom's Thumb," fired first, famous for rating with thumbs.
Uncle Tom's Thumb: "Azazel's technique, five thumbs up. Emotion in the songs, five thumbs up. The other four, Red Lion, Himalaya, Rugby Player, Black Goat, didn't even hit three. I don't get how the strongest got cut. If it's just a publicity move, then they're treating us like idiots."
Plenty couldn't accept it, and even more just wanted the reveal. Anticipation for episode three hit a peak.
Tuesday, FOX's site got buried under comments.
Wednesday, director Lukinskyy shut down his Twitter replies.
Thursday, #MaskedSinger and #Azazel hit YouTube and Twitter's trending lists.
Friday, FOX's site crashed again.
The heat lasted through Saturday.
"Mr. Stark, please sit over here."
"If possible, Mr. Kent, don't wander."
"Mr. Steve, you're out of the hospital? God bless you, that's great."
"Let's listen quietly to the gospel, Mr. Bruce, are you stepping out to smoke? It's bad for your health, cut back."
New York pastor Ned had gathered over four hundred believers in a hall to watch episode three together and receive the gospel.
"Pastor Ned, God didn't forbid smoking," Bruce argued. "If I don't smoke, my life's got no meaning."
"Dear Bruce, life's meaning isn't smoking, it's living," Ned said. "And we've got to live so we can hear the Lord's will."