The top scorer on the college entrance exam ends up delivering takeout. On a pouring-rain night after his divorce, Qin Tian roars at the heavens: “Damn you, Heaven! I refuse to accept this. If you’ve got the guts, strike me dead!”
Boom! Just as he wished.
The good news: Qin Tian has transmigrated.
But there’s no System, no cheat interface.
All that remains in his mind are scattered, fragmentary lyrics and melodies from another world.
The bad news: he’s still a delivery worker.
By day, he delivers takeout, squeezing in street-side gigs whenever he can to earn a few dozen or a hundred yuan at a time.
At night, he sings in livestreams, struggling to get by so his family can laugh a little more.
A nobody with nothing, he pieces together incomplete lyrics and melodies bit by bit, fighting to survive.
Exploitation by the industry, plagiarism accusations, and covert suppression come one after another. Invisible walls are everywhere.
An ordinary man struggles to take a single step, but with a burning drive to “make money,” he carves out a path for himself and makes his way to the dazzling stage of the National Day Gala.
The Grammys, long admired from afar back home, are within his grasp.
The international superstars everyone idolizes are beneath his feet.
