Volume One: Peak at Debut Chapter Thirteen: The Past of Sister Menglan

When Chen Jing returned, it was Wang Menglan who drove him home. He had originally said he could just catch a ride, but Wang Menglan insisted on taking him. This made Chen Jing start thinking about buying a car; after all, relying on others for lifts always made him feel awkward. However, he was still deep in debt, so he decided to wait a while longer.

After dropping him off downstairs, Wang Menglan looked at Chen Jing with gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of Youxuan. She’s really a handful.” Tonight, Youxuan had decided to call Chen Jing her brother, and Wang Menglan felt she had burdened him.

Chen Jing shook his head. “Not at all. I’m very fond of Youxuan as a little sister.”

“Youxuan has lacked a father’s love since she was young, which is why she wanted you to be her brother.”

Chen Jing hesitated, then asked, “Youxuan… what about her father?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it. How could he ask about someone else’s sorrow so casually?

He quickly apologized, “Sorry, Sister Lan, just forget I asked.”

Wang Menglan’s eyes dimmed, her expression tinged with melancholy as she shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s nothing that can’t be talked about—after all these years, I’ve learned to accept it.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I had Youxuan prematurely with my first pregnancy, which left me with health issues, and I couldn’t have any more children afterwards. My ex-husband favored sons over daughters, and seeing that I’d given birth to a girl and couldn’t have more, he wanted a divorce before I’d even finished my postpartum recovery.”

Chen Jing was silent, not knowing what to say.

“Actually, I knew. While I was pregnant with Youxuan, he already had a woman outside. So even if he hadn’t said it, I would have divorced him eventually,” Wang Menglan shook her head and forced a calm smile. “Let’s not talk about that scumbag. I’m doing just fine now—I don’t need a man to support me. It’s only Youxuan who’s suffered, but she’s always been so sensible, never once asked me for a father.” Her voice began to choke with emotion.

“Youxuan doesn’t say it, but that doesn’t mean I, as her mother, can’t feel it.” Her eyes reddened. “Do you know, once other children mocked Youxuan, saying her father didn’t want her? She was just a little girl, standing there silently with tears streaming down her face, stubbornly biting her lip so she wouldn’t cry out loud.”

Tears slid down Wang Menglan’s cheek and fell onto her clothes. “Seeing that, my heart nearly broke. Jing, tell me, why should the mistakes of adults be borne by such a little girl?”

Chen Jing listened quietly to her outpouring, handing her a tissue and gently patting her back.

Wang Menglan wiped away her tears, took a deep breath to steady herself, and continued, “That’s why Youxuan has always wanted an older brother to protect her from being bullied.”

Chen Jing nodded slowly. “Sister Lan, don’t worry. With me as her brother, I won’t let Youxuan be bullied again.”

Wang Menglan smiled through her tears, looking at Chen Jing with warmth in her eyes. “Thank you, Jing.”

The night was silent and still. Who among us hasn’t endured a sorrowful past...

Recently, a wave of wuxia fever swept through the world of fiction, ignited by a novel called “The Legend of the Condor Heroes.”

The rapid success of “The Legend of the Condor Heroes” was due in part to its own merits, but also to the promotion efforts of China Publishing House. As the prequel to “The Return of the Condor Heroes,” which would soon be the publisher’s top recommended novel, the hotter “The Legend of the Condor Heroes” became, the more anticipation built for “The Return of the Condor Heroes” and its coming serialization.

In truth, China Publishing House’s tireless promotion of “The Legend of the Condor Heroes” had another reason: Chen Jing had agreed to publish the entire novel with them for free. Not exactly free—he had asked the publisher to donate his share of the profits entirely to the country. Whatever was earned, however much, all would be donated, and Chen Jing kept not a single cent. Because of this, the leadership of China Publishing House unanimously supported a massive publicity push. In this sense, China Publishing House truly acted with great heart.

Readers praised the book endlessly, leaving messages for the author—whose pen name, “Culture Porter,” was Chen Jing—asking him to write a sequel or new novel. But they received no reply.

At this time, Chen Jing had no time for readers; he was busy preparing for the preliminary round of “The Voice of China.”

Today was the first day of recording for “The Voice of China.” Backstage, Lin Zitan was helping Chen Jing with makeup, while Lin Xi stood by, briefing him on important points.

“You don’t need to be nervous on stage, just perform as usual—you’ll definitely make it to the next round,” Lin Xi reassured him.

“Alright.” Chen Jing nodded. He knew Lin Xi had pulled some strings behind the scenes; as long as he didn’t mess up, he’d pass. Though he felt it unnecessary, he didn’t oppose her efforts.

It was his first time performing on stage, and the show would be broadcast on TV. To say he wasn’t nervous would be a lie. Even the most confident heart would feel some tension. Yet, Chen Jing was the kind who became calmer the more nervous he was—this was why he had always achieved near-perfect success in his previous missions.

The preliminary round of “The Voice of China” featured 128 contestants. The judging panel consisted of three famous singers and 500 live audience members. After each performance, the three singers acted as mentors, offering feedback, then the panel scored the contestant. Each singer held 100 points, while each audience member had one point. The total score determined the ranking, and the top 64 contestants would advance.

With preparations complete, recording officially began. The male and female hosts took the stage together, delivering an energetic opening and introducing themselves.

“Hello, everyone. I am the host of ‘The Voice of China,’ Cailun.”

“Hello, everyone. I am the host of ‘The Voice of China,’ Wenwan.”

Next came the judges. The first to appear was Huang Wenhao, known as the Prince of Love Songs, a top-tier male singer. Though he didn’t have many standout works, his frequent appearances on various shows kept his exposure high and his status respectable.

After Huang Wenhao took the stage, he performed his signature song, bringing a wave of nostalgia and sparking a small climax among the audience.

The second judge was another male singer, Wei Guoqiang. Wei Guo was a veteran rocker; though rock wasn’t mainstream anymore, it would never die, and there were always fans, especially among the older generation.

Wei Guoqiang’s performance was, unsurprisingly, a rock song, igniting the audience’s passion.

The last judge to appear was usually the highlight.

After Wei Guoqiang finished and left the stage, the hosts praised him, then the male host, Byron, suddenly asked, “Xiaowan, have you heard the song ‘Love Without End’?”

Xiaowan replied enthusiastically, “Of course! It’s my idol Su Tingting’s representative work—I love listening to it.”

“Have you ever heard it performed live?”

“No, my idol’s concert tickets are too hard to get—I can never snag one.”

“Well, you’re in luck.”

“Ah? Are you serious?” Wenwan shouted in disbelief.

Cailun smiled mysteriously. “Now, please welcome the diva Su Tingting to perform ‘Love Without End.’”

“Ahhh!!!” The moment Su Tingting’s name was announced, the audience erupted in excitement.

Indeed, the final judge was the star attraction, with a unique entrance. The first two were introduced before performing, but this last one began with a performance.

Su Tingting, who had earned the diva title in recent years, was a female singer whose former agent was Lin Xi.

Chen Jing knew in advance that the final judge would be Su Tingting; it was common knowledge before recording, but everyone pretended ignorance for dramatic effect.

He didn’t know much about the story between Su Tingting and Lin Xi—he wasn’t one to gossip about others’ pasts. He’d only heard about it while chatting with Lin Zitan. After Lin Xi spent two years elevating Su Tingting to diva status, Su Tingting switched to Huafu Entertainment, a rival of Jingrun Entertainment, and immediately broke contract, going to court with Lin Xi to terminate it. This was partly why Lin Xi later joined Jingrun Entertainment.

Huafu Entertainment was one of the companies behind “The Voice of China,” so Su Tingting’s role as judge was normal. Conversely, Cailun was an artist of Jingrun Entertainment. For these corporate giants, alliances and rivalries meant little—only profit mattered.

After Su Tingting finished singing “Love Without End,” the audience cheered again.

“Friends, hello,” Su Tingting greeted the crowd.

The hosts returned to the stage; Wenwan looked at her, starry-eyed. “Wow, I actually saw Tingting in person. I’m so happy.”

Cailun greeted her, “Hello, Teacher Tingting.”

Su Tingting nodded calmly. “Hello, hosts.”

Wenwan continued, infatuated, “Teacher Tingting, I’m your loyal fan. Can I get your autograph after the show?”

Su Tingting nodded, “Of course.”

“That’s wonderful.”

With the atmosphere at its peak, Su Tingting took her seat among the judges, and the three singers exchanged a round of commercial compliments before the competition began in earnest.

Chen Jing’s number was 8, so his turn was coming soon.

Watching the previous contestants from backstage, Chen Jing felt his pressure ease. These contestants were all newcomers, their performance skills and singing weren’t particularly high, so to him, they posed little threat.

When the seventh contestant took the stage, the production team called Chen Jing to get ready.

He took a deep breath and whispered to himself, “Come on, debut rookie.”

The signal light flashed, and Chen Jing strode confidently onto the stage. This was his debut before the camera, the beginning of his journey, the genesis of his own era.

(A tribute to Jin Yong’s “The Legend of the Condor Heroes”)