Chapter 73: A Heartfelt Performance

Amidst a wave of applause from the audience, Liu Xiaoli slowly took the stage.

She was dressed simply in a blue-gray padded cotton coat, holding a microphone in her hand. With her hair braided into two thick pigtails, she stood quietly in the spotlight.

Her eyes held a faint trace of melancholy and longing as she looked out at the audience, resembling Xiaofang from the lyrics, standing quietly at the entrance of the village.

The music began to play, and the serene, gentle face of the young woman appeared in the lenses of the photographers.

Following close behind came her slightly low and gentle voice, softly recounting an untold story from that era:

"In the village, there lives a maid named Xiaofang, fair to look upon and kind of heart. A pair of beautiful, wide eyes, with thick and long braids. On the very night before your return to the city, you and I came to the riverbank. Tears that had never fallen flowed along with the stream. Thank you for the love you gave me. In this life and this world, I shall never forget. Thank you for the tenderness you bestowed upon me. Accompanying me through those years gone by. How many times have I turned my head to look back at the road I’ve walked. Heartfelt blessings to you, kind-hearted maiden. How many times have I turned my head to look back at the road I’ve walked. You stand quietly beside the small village."

...

The audience below, carried away by the song and the spaces left between the lingering notes, drifted into a sorrowful sea of memories.

In their ears, they almost fancied they could hear the cicadas of a summer night, feeling the chill of the crisp, clear river water against bare feet...

A sudden shiver ran through them, and in a trance, they seemed to see a pair of figures sitting by the riverbank, weeping and singing.

It was not until the song ended that the audience snapped back to reality, waking as if from a dream.

"Was Xiaofang abandoned? Poor Xiaofang..."

Some of the girls, touched by the melody, found tears streaming down their cheeks.

"This is so breathtakingly beautiful! The lyrics, the composition, and Comrade Liu Xiaoli's voice—they fit together so perfectly. In our minds, they paint a vivid picture of a girl with thick braids, wearing a floral tunic, standing at the village entrance, day after day, night after night, waiting for her lover to return..."

In the VIP seating area, Director Wang, who had already read the complete story, found his clothes dampened by tears before he even realized it. He wiped his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Old Wang, what's the story with this song? Which brilliant talent from your Fangcao Magazine wrote this? It's exceptionally good!"

Several leaders nearby looked on with curiosity. Everyone knew that Old Wang had a background in the Jiangcheng Literature and Art circles and was now the chief editor of the magazine. Though he didn't micro-manage much, he still showed up for work and read books every day.

"It was written by an author from our magazine. He handled both the lyrics and the composition. But that's not even the half of it; the novel titled *Fragrant Grass* is a true literary masterpiece," Director Wang explained.

"*Fragrant Grass*? Are you saying the title of this novel is the exact same name as the Fangcao Magazine?"

The leaders stared at him in astonishment. They had merely asked about a song, only to stumble upon the title of a novel—and a rather bizarrely named one at that, sharing its name with the publishing house.

"Yes, I suppose this must be fate."

"The name *Fragrant Grass* has a fine ring to it—'The fragrant grasses grow lush on Parrot Island.' But a true literary masterpiece? I have my doubts. We shall have to see just how good this novel is that you're praising to the skies, Old Wang!"

"Just wait, I'll let you all witness the brilliance of a young talent straight from the capital!"

Director Wang praised with a hearty laugh. He was increasingly finding this young Comrade Cheng to be a rare talent. He could write articles, compose music, and produce work of astonishing quality whether it was fiction or songs—he could even play instruments.

A polymath of this caliber in the literary world was a true rarity. If not for the fact that Comrade Cheng was a Beijinger, Director Wang would have loved to recruit him directly into the Jiangcheng literary system.

"Ah, what a pity, such a fine talent," Director Wang thought to himself.

At that moment, someone else struck up a conversation with him. "Old Wang, the circulation figures for Fangcao Magazine weren't looking too hot last month. I asked some comrades at the distribution bureau about this month, and your sales still aren't doing great—not even hitting fifty thousand."

A flicker of irritation flared in Director Wang's chest. He looked up and saw that it was the director of the neighboring Yangtze River Literature and Art Publishing House. He snapped right back, "Just you wait and see!"

Provoked thus, Director Wang felt a surge of discontent and began turning over the idea of publishing *Fragrant Grass* ahead of schedule.

*Fragrant Grass* was a monthly publication, meaning it came out once a month. The newest issue had been released on February first, but the public response had been quite lukewarm.

"Cheng Kaiyan's novel was originally scheduled for publication in March. Would that be too late? Besides, the word count of *Fragrant Grass* is far too large; it certainly can't be published all at once. However, we could definitely consider putting out a New Year Special Edition. Bookstores and shops won't close on New Year's Eve, and sales won't suffer. On the contrary, students will have their New Year's money burning a hole in their pockets, which they can use to buy books. That's a major advantage."

...

"She sings so wonderfully, and the songs written by that Cheng Kaiyan are simply superb!"

An Shaokang stared dazedly at the glowing figure of Liu Xiaoli on the stage.

Beside him, Zhou Xiaomin's expression was less than pleasant. She hadn't expected the song performed by Liu Xiaoli to be this good. Having worked in the literary circles for many years, her professional eye told her that this song was a rare gem in the domestic scene, possessing all the potential to become a massive hit.

Zhou Xiaomin glanced at Liu Xiaoli on the stage. *Hmph, Liu Xiaoli aside!*

How could this kid surnamed Cheng possess such talent?

It was utterly absurd!

She was extremely reluctant to believe it, especially since she had just delivered a rant in front of Teacher Jiang Ling, belittling both Cheng Kaiyan and Liu Xiaoli.

And now, those very words had transformed into powerful slaps, flying right back to land on her face.

At the mere thought of this, Zhou Xiaomin could already vividly imagine how the girls in the dance troupe would be gossiping behind her back over the coming days.

...

The singing gradually faded away, and the host stepped gracefully onto the stage.

"We have just witnessed a truly magnificent performance by Comrade Liu Xiaoli. I saw quite a few audience members moved to tears down here just now. What you might not know is that this song, *Xiaofang*, actually originates from a novel titled *Fragrant Grass*. It tells the story of a girl who grew up in a southern frontier village, and how she crosses paths with an educated youth from the capital amidst the mighty 'Up to the Mountains and Down to the Villages' movement. This song is a poem gifted by the young man to Xiaofang on the very night he returns to the city."

Upon hearing this, the audience broke into animated discussion.

"*Xiaofang* is adapted from a novel? A city boy falls in love with a rural girl—that sounds rather interesting."

"Is it a story about the romance of the educated youth? I thought it was 'scar literature.' How novel! Which book is it? I'll go buy a copy to read tomorrow!"

"If it's not scar literature, I'm not reading it!"

The host smiled and introduced, "It seems everyone is quite curious. The novel *Fragrant Grass* will be serialized in our former *Jiangcheng Literature and Art*, which is now known as Fangcao Magazine. Yes, you heard that right—very soon, *Fragrant Grass* will be published in *Fragrant Grass*, and by then everyone will be able to read this novel."

Audience Member One: "So it was Jiangcheng Literature and Art all along! I must definitely check that out!"

Audience Member Two: "Such a strange book title, it's actually the same name as their magazine!"