Chapter 82: Ancient-Style Songs

After each work’s title, there appeared a line of yet-unlit information, the data in each line varying greatly. For instance, in the music section, a song named “Do You Know, Do You Know” required 36 reputation points for redemption, followed by various explanatory notes, such as completion degree, orchestration quality, total sound effects—each marked with an empty slot. Each slot was attached to a separate redemption value. Liu Qingshan did a rough mental calculation and realized that the total of these values always equaled the 36 reputation points required. In other words, for any given piece, one could make a selective and user-friendly redemption, likely designed for cases when reputation points were insufficient and one had to prioritize.

He inwardly gave a hearty thumbs up, clearly recognizing this human-centered design as a true testament to the Star-Maker Instrument’s advanced intelligence.

He also discovered that the music section was not limited to unpublished works; even some renowned songs were listed on the vast light screen. Although he did not yet grasp the precise use of such detailed arrangements, he gradually understood that any piece appearing here was a classic, presented in its most perfect form.

The other two sections were for film and television, and variety shows, each with a similar arrangement of redemption values and detailed data. The biggest difference among the three lay in the reputation points needed: for example, “Do You Know, Do You Know” required just 36 points, whereas the lowest redemption requirement in the film section was over a thousand.

Given Liu Qingshan’s current reputation reserves—his energy storage—even with all seven star tokens filled, he was still far from being able to redeem any film work. Moreover, each time the marketplace was opened, it consumed five points.

A single star token held 100 reputation points, which meant he could exchange for at most three songs. Liu Qingshan shook his head with a wry smile; if he tried to gather all the songs needed for Jin Xishan’s album right now, more than half his star tokens would be gone.

Still, he was not discouraged. After all, such tremendous change was already a pleasant surprise. What’s more, he harbored further hopes—his gaze forever settled on the system lottery section at the end of the glowing screen, where a bold number 3 was now displayed.

Compared to the vast mess of data before, the system’s lottery section always delighted him most. After all, the micro-expression refinement skill and the song “A Beautiful Myth” he’d previously obtained were both supremely practical, granting him genuine skills or bonuses.

In fact, what he most looked forward to this time was what kind of skill the lottery would bring. Skills of this kind were miraculous, sparing him the arduous process of evolution or study.

Even the culinary kit and cooking skill set he’d drawn last time—though it nearly made him cough blood—proved to be a real skill. At first, he thought it useless, but after a few opportunities to use it, he tasted the benefits of expert cooking.

This time, the system had generously granted him three attempts, so he was able to recover his spirits quickly after the earlier disappointment over his low reputation points.

With a thought, he activated the familiar screen of shimmering light once more.

Rings of radiance rippled out like water, and the one-meter-wide lottery wheel appeared before him. The pointer, formed by clusters of light, spun across dozens of colored segments, each wedge of varying width, its luminous tip spinning rapidly to the sound of electronic beeps.

After several dozen seconds, the ticking slowed, and the pointer came to rest in a verdant glow.

“Congratulations, Host! You have obtained the S-class vocal talent skill—physical skill support category. Unlimited use, no cooldown!”

“Hahaha…” Liu Qingshan could not help but laugh up at the sky, not noticing that the system’s intelligent announcement only ever appeared when a skill was obtained.

Improvement in vocal quality was one of the skills he had long yearned for. Previously, he had barely twenty skill points—less than a third of Jin Xishan’s 76 points, and she wasn’t even a professional singer.

Now, not only had he acquired this long-coveted vocal skill, but it was a permanent S-class talent, far exceeding his expectations.

A typical singer’s skill maxed out at 100 points, qualifying as a mid-tier singer—the line for professional standard. An S-class skill corresponded to a high-level singer; Liu Qingshan’s singing ability now instantly reached the level of a top-tier performer.

Indeed, among today’s celebrities, those who had entered the top ranks based on their looks alone barely reached the mid-tier in actual singing. Liu Qingshan’s S-class vocal talent meant his voice was now among the best, second only to a select few superstars.

At present, the world’s top singers were only SS class, which showed just how high Liu Qingshan’s skills now stood.

Of course, the outside world didn’t classify singers by the Star-Maker Instrument’s C, B, A, S, SS, SSS scale; they used broader terms like superstar, first-tier, and second-tier.

Suppressing his surging excitement, he pressed the button for a second draw.

Dozens of seconds later, the result appeared: a book titled “The Fashionable Gaze.” Despite a strong wave of disappointment, Liu Qingshan quickly recovered—it was, after all, a book of skills relating to clothing and matching. At least it provided examples of trends and fashion combinations.

He dared not blame the system; the book still fit within the realm of entertainment and clearly had its purpose.

Once he absorbed the entire contents of the book into his mind, Liu Qingshan no longer underestimated it. The book actually contained the developmental trajectory of fashion trends for decades into the future—a comprehensive encyclopedia combining style, fashion, beauty, skincare, makeup, jewelry, and accessories.

He knew well that even a casual outfit worn by a celebrity could spark endless commentary and scrutiny. With his mind now brimming with professional knowledge of trends and fashion, Liu Qingshan was instantly elevated into a veritable icon of modern style, able to embody every aspect of a fashionable lifestyle.

Embracing a growing sense of joy, he finally proceeded to his third and final draw.

Whether by chance or fate, this time he drew the very song he had seen earlier: “Do You Know, Do You Know.”

The lyrics for this song were adapted from “Like a Dream,” a poem by the Song Dynasty’s female poet Li Qingzhao. In almost an instant, Liu Qingshan decided he would perform it as a duet with Jin Xishan.

As he made his selection, a gorgeously orchestrated melody blossomed in his mind. The distinctly ancient Chinese style of the tune and lyrics evoked a flood of thoughts.

Now that the nation had grown prosperous, the call to reconnect with historical roots grew ever stronger, and the importance of exploring the profound depths of five thousand years of Chinese civilization was increasingly recognized.