novelraw Chapter 51: Lin Youjia's performance moved the entire audience to tears?
Chapter 51: Lin Youjia's performance moved the entire audience to tears?
"Teacher Song, are you busy?"
Hongtao's voice came through the receiver, sounding three parts warmer and five parts less polite than during their last call.
Song Ze switched his phone to his left hand and took a sip of his now-cold coffee with his right.
"Brother Hong, just say what's on your mind."
"Great." Hong Tao chuckled, then paused. "The schedule has changed; Lin Youjia's audition has been moved from September 5th to September 4th."
Song Ze hummed in agreement.
Hong Tao continued, "HIM International Music announced that Yoga Lin will bring a never-before-released original song to audition for its world premiere. Internally, they call this song 'The King of Fighters'."
At this point, Hong Tao deliberately paused for two seconds.
"I'm giving you a heads-up beforehand because I'm afraid you won't be well-prepared and things won't look good."
Song Ze leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen in one hand.
"Thank you for your concern, Brother Xie. I understand."
"Okay, then I'll wait for your good news on the 5th."
The phone hangs up.
Song Ze placed his phone face down on the table.
In 2017, there were quite a few songs in Yoga Lin's album "Open for Business Today" that could be used as audition tracks.
"Let the World End," "The Moon in the Daytime," and "Innocence and Evil"—all of these are of high quality.
But no matter which song he chooses, none of them can rival "Left Finger Pointing to the Moon".
Sa Dingding herself said that the song's potential is so high that it can impress the entire recording studio.
The office door was pushed open, and Zhang Juan rushed in with a look of urgency on her face.
"Hongtao called you? I just received the message—"
"Understood. Yoga Lin is bringing his original hit song a day early."
Zhang Juan slammed her tablet on the coffee table: "HIM International Music is trying to intimidate you! Auditioning a day early is to make the judges listen to you with the lingering charm of Yoga Lin!"
"sit."
Zhang Juan did not sit down.
"Will you sit down or not?"
Zhang Juan plopped down on the sofa.
Song Ze tapped on the table.
"He sings his new song, I sing mine. HIM International Music is trying to play psychological warfare, which shows they're not confident either. If they were truly 100% sure, why would they release information and create hype?"
Zhang Juan opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Song Ze added, "If you're bored, help me find out which stinky tofu place in Changsha is good."
Are you genuinely not in a hurry, or are you just pretending?
When have you ever seen me pretend?
Zhang Juan stared at him for three seconds, but couldn't find any trace of guilt on his face. She then took out her phone and silently searched for Changsha stinky tofu recipes.
In the afternoon, a message popped up on Song Ze's WeChat.
Yang Mi: Lin Youjia, a masterpiece by HIM International Music. Do you need Jaywalk Studio's PR team to help you generate buzz?
Song Ze typed back: Thank you for your concern, Sister Mi. It's a small matter; I can handle it myself.
Yang Mi immediately replied with an "OK" emoji.
This woman hands you the knife but doesn't do the work for you; she has a perfect sense of propriety.
Changsha Huanghua Airport, afternoon of September 4.
Song Ze dragged his carry-on suitcase out of the arrival hall.
While Zhang Juan was making a phone call to confirm the hotel, Song Ze took out his phone and sent a WeChat message to Liu Yifei.
"Sister, I'm going to the battlefield tomorrow. Pray for me."
After sending the message, he got into the van.
A dozen minutes later, my phone vibrated.
Liu Yifei didn't reply with a text message, but sent a 30-second voice message.
Song Ze put on his headphones and started playing.
It wasn't speaking, it was a piece of piano music.
The melody vaguely reveals the framework of "Liang Liang," but it has been disassembled and reassembled into something else entirely. It is no longer sentimental but has gained a sense of forward momentum.
Song Ze leaned back in his seat and stared at the roof of the car for a few seconds.
Others cheer by shouting, she cheers by playing music.
After closing the hotel room door, Song Ze changed into a loose tracksuit and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, reading "Left Finger Pointing to the Moon" three times from beginning to end.
The first time I looked for breath support, the second time I focused on the articulation of each word, and the third time I gave it my all with a G6.
Hearing the noise, Zhang Juan from the next room sent a WeChat message: "The soundproofing isn't good, so be careful not to cause a hotel complaint."
On the same day, in Hengdian, the crew of "Chaoge" (Group B).
At lunchtime, Bai Lu walked out of the food pick-up window with her boxed lunch. Just as she turned the corner, a shoulder bumped into her.
The lunchbox slipped from his hand and fell onto the cement floor, splashing rice and soup all over the place.
Li Qianru's assistant covered her mouth, glancing in Li Qianru's direction.
Li Qianru sat on a folding chair, crossed her legs, and ate sunflower seeds without even looking up.
Bai Lu looked down at the lunchbox on the ground.
After Director Yu stood up for her last time, these people learned their lesson and stopped verbally abusing her to her face, switching to this "accidental" tactic: throwing lunchboxes, hiding call sheets, and moving her belongings next to the toilet in the dressing room.
Each item individually is not a big deal, but when stacked together, it's disgusting.
Bai Lu bent down and picked up the lunchbox.
There was no crying, no shouting.
She carried the dusty lunchbox and walked straight toward Li Qianru.
Li Qianru finally looked up, a smile on her face as if she were watching a good show.
Bai Lu stopped in front of her, tilted the lunchbox, and precisely poured the remaining soup inside onto the assistant's limited-edition sneakers.
"Sorry, my hand slipped. I'll buy you a new pair."
After saying that, he turned and left.
There was silence behind me for a full five seconds.
Li Qianru's sunflower seed shells fell to the ground.
The assistant squatted on the ground and frantically wiped his shoes, but the more he wiped, the dirtier they became.
Bai Lu walked to the corner, turned her back to everyone, and clenched her fist tightly.
On the evening of September 4th, Yoga Lin's audition ended.
No video was leaked, and no official press release was issued, but the social media accounts of major music bloggers and critics were in an uproar.
A phenomenal live performance, an original song poised to be the hit of the year, brought tears to the eyes of the entire control room—the most explosive audition of the year, bar none.
Song Ze lay on the hotel bed, scrolling through these messages.
Zhang Juan had already made seventeen phone calls in the next room, covering everything from public relations to contingency plans for public opinion, as if she wanted to rehearse every second of tomorrow's audition in advance.
Song Ze tossed his phone next to his pillow and closed his eyes.
I'm sleeping very soundly.
September 5th, 9:40 AM, Hunan TV building.
Song Ze was wearing a brown crew neck T-shirt with a dark gray thin suit jacket over it, and followed the guide toward the recording studio.
Zhang Juan followed half a step behind, her phone screen flashing on and off repeatedly.
When she reached the elevator, she finally couldn't hold back anymore.
"I just received news that the music critics' panel at yesterday's audition gave Yoga Lin a 'flawless' evaluation."
The elevator doors opened, and the two stepped inside.
Zhang Juan swallowed hard. "There's a music critic named Ding Feng, known for his sharp tongue. This morning he posted on his WeChat Moments: 'This year's King of Singers has already been decided.'"
The elevator goes up.
Song Ze looked at the floor display screen and smiled.
"That's even better. I want to see whether his impeccable skill is more impressive, or my 'Left Finger Pointing to the Moon' is more impressive."
The elevator arrived, and the doors opened.
Upon hearing this, a member of the production crew following behind paused and glanced at Song Ze again.
The preparation area is next to the recording studio, a small lounge with a sofa, bottled water, and a full-length mirror.
As soon as Song Ze walked in, he saw Lin Shishi.
She sat on the armrest of the sofa, wearing a cream-colored knitted cardigan, her hair casually tied in a low ponytail.
The two looked at each other, and the air was silent for two seconds.
Lin Shishi spoke first, snorting through her nose, and picked up a bottle of mineral water from the table next to her, throwing it at Song Ze.
Song Ze caught it with one hand.
"Don't die of thirst, you'll be too embarrassed to call yourself my friend if you sing off-key."
After saying that, she stood up and walked towards the door without looking back.
As she passed by Song Ze, a small patch of her ears turned red.
The door closed.
Song Ze looked down at the bottle of water and unscrewed the cap.
On the inside of the bottle cap, two small words were written in black marker: "Go for it!" The exclamation mark was drawn twice, and the ink was thicker than the words next to it.
Song Ze put the bottle cap into his pocket and took a couple of gulps of water.
At 10:00 AM sharp, the staff knocked on the door.
"Teacher Song Ze, please prepare to enter."
Song Ze stood up, pushed open the door, and walked out.
The recording studio door closed behind me, and cold lights shone down from above.
The stage was small, with a microphone standing in the center.
There were three rows of seats in the audience, where Hong Tao, the music director, and five or six other people were sitting, some of whom were wearing masks.
Song Ze walked to the microphone, stood still, and adjusted the height.
In the second row below the stage, a person wearing a mask reached out and took off their mask.
He was in his early forties, with a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and thin lips.
Ding Feng.
That's the same acerbic music critic who announced on his WeChat Moments this morning that "the King of Singers has been crowned ahead of schedule."
Ding Feng picked up the microphone in front of him and tilted his head to look Song Ze over for two seconds.
"young people."
His tone was neither too high nor too low.
"I heard you're going to sing a song that's incredibly difficult?"
The recording studio was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioner vents.
Ding Feng brought the microphone closer to his mouth.
"I hope your abilities match your ambitions."