With the single “Quagmire,” Mandarin singer Zi Yu claimed the top spot in the Vol.01 September Selection of “Star Power Monthly Selection” (held by Billboard China, Tencent Music’s QQ Music and JOOX platforms).
From constant experimentation to commanding the stage, from wearing the “newcomer” label to earning “champion” recognition, Zi Yu has achieved a striking breakthrough with “Quagmire,” emerging as one of the most promising new voices in Chinese music.
The sound of “Quagmire” now lingers as the defining memory of this past September. We look forward to seeing the boy who once rose from the mud continue to dig, through his music, toward a vaster world.
Below, Li Shi Jue, the songwriter of “Quagmire,” speaks with Billboard China to decode the creative force behind the very first “Star Power Monthly Selection” champion song.
Zi Yu
Billboard China
The song Quagmire has resonated widely with listeners. Were you surprised? What do you think made it so moving?
Li Shi Jue: I was a bit surprised, yet not entirely, because our team actually wrote this song a few years ago. Its theme and melodic line have a retro, catchy quality, the kind that naturally evokes emotional resonance. Songs from that same creative period included Dislocated Space-Time, which later became a big hit. I think what really touches people is the combination of a simple, memorable melody and straightforward, relatable lyrics, brought to life by Zi Yu’s heartfelt performance. The overall listening experience just flows smoothly. When we wrote it, we only wanted to capture honestly the feeling of being stuck in a certain emotion or situation. We never imagined it would be embraced by so many people. Looking back now, perhaps what moved listeners was its authenticity — that tangled obsession of “wanting to break free yet sinking deeper,” a struggle everyone encounters at some point in life. The song doesn’t preach any grand truths; it simply passes on the feeling of “breathing inside the Quagmire,” and somehow, someone out there heard their own echo in it.
When writing “Quagmire,” what core emotion or idea did you most want to express? Where did the original inspiration come from?
What I wanted most to convey was a state of emotion—it could be my own feelings, or projections of many different kinds of emotions. It’s about recalling past experiences, being overwhelmed by sadness, crying awake in the middle of the night, falling asleep only to wake up crying again. That cycle of repeating pain mirrors the song’s looping melody. The inspiration naturally came from life: once you’ve lived through something like that, you can’t help but write it down. I believe everyone has their own “Quagmire moment”—a low point in life. It’s not about the inspiration of “getting out of the Quagmire,” but about the courage to “stand firm within it”. The earliest ideas came in fragments: seeing friends torment themselves over a goal that fell through; watching someone repeatedly edit and delete late-night social media moments out of confusion; or even my own frustration when I get stuck—when the harder I try to write, the less I can. These scattered moments came together like scenes of many people circling in their own “Quagmires,” and suddenly I wanted to write a song to tell listeners: It’s okay to be stuck. You don’t have to force yourself to climb out right away. Take a look at the soil beneath your feet—maybe something can grow from it.
When creating music, what do you value most? Does “Quagmire” reflect this philosophy?
When I write songs, I care most about the completeness and directness of the story, and about how catchy the melody is. I used to pursue more avant-garde arrangements or melodies to create relatively niche works, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that what sounds truly good is often simple. “Quagmire” embodies exactly that belief. What I value most is accuracy—not technical precision, but emotional accuracy, staying true to the feeling. For example, the line “tears reach my lips, a little salty” wasn’t written just to rhyme; it’s meant to capture that physical detail of “trying to hold back your tears halfway through crying”. That kind of specific pain carries more weight than simply shouting “I’m so sad”. Quagmire achieves that—it doesn’t rely on ornate language. It sings of tangible emotions: “the darkness when you turn away,” and “the sweetness in dreams and the tears upon waking”. It’s like laying bare the creases of your heart for others to see, without hiding, without pretense.
What special charm do you think Zi Yu’s performance brings to this song?
Zi Yu truly infused this song with a special kind of magic. He’s a young, energetic singer of the new generation, while I wrote the song with a deliberately retro sensibility in mind. That collision between the “new” and the “old” gave “Quagmire” a fresh soul. There’s a kind of restrained resilience in Zi Yu’s voice that fits the song’s temperament perfectly. He doesn’t use explosive power to express the pain of being trapped in the Quagmire; instead, he shapes the details with soft, airy tones. In the line “repeating the sorrow again and again,” you can catch a faint, almost imperceptible tremor. That choice to hold back instead of crying out actually makes the struggle within the “Quagmire” feel more real. It’s like how, in real life, people in distress don’t always scream; more often, they wrestle silently with themselves. And Zi Yu managed to sing out the weight of that silence.
For listeners who found resonance in “Quagmire” and those who might be going through their own “Quagmire moment,” what would you most like to say to them?
If you happen to be living through your own “Quagmire” right now, tell yourself: let the storm rage on. Only time can heal, and there’s no other cure. If you’ve parted ways with someone, don’t disturb their life again. This experience might one day become one of the most beautiful memories on your journey. And when you emerge from the storm, safe and whole, you’ll no longer be the same person you once were. Stay strong!
At the same time, I want everyone to know: you’re not the only one sinking. Every life has stretches of road where people just can’t seem to move forward. Don’t rush to deny yourself, wondering “why haven’t I climbed out yet,” and don’t envy others who seem to have it easier. First, acknowledge “I’m here, right now,” and then take a look beneath your feet—those things that hurt you or twist and hold you down may quietly be helping you put down roots. And perhaps one day, when courage returns, you’ll be ready to step out of the mire—slowly, but surely.
In your songwriting process, are there any particular habits or principles you always stick to, and how do you deal with doubts or criticism?
In my songwriting process, I don’t worry about whether the lyrics or the melody come first. Sometimes I start with the words, sometimes with the tune, but most of the time they emerge together. What I care most about is the first feeling. When a melody suddenly comes to mind, I usually decide on it right away, because the more you revise, the further you drift from your original intention. That’s why I tend to write songs quickly.
With “Quagmire,” for example, the image of the Quagmire came first, and from there the melody and lyrics gradually grew. For me, letting emotions flow naturally is far more important than following a rigid process.
In fact, every song carries its own unique expression and emotion—each differs in theme, harmony design, and arrangement style. There are plenty of works out there that sound similar in mood or atmosphere, but art ultimately comes from life—and respecting originality matters most.
Zi Yu
Billboard China
