Chapter 108: Stealing the Show on Stage

Liu Junxi was different from usual today. He finished his tasks early, then carried a small stool to sit in front of the television, eagerly awaiting the start of the program.

This television was something he had found before. Though worn and old, thanks to some repairs by the neighbors, its picture and sound quality remained intact, not hindering the viewing experience.

“Xixi, what are you watching?” his grandmother asked.

“Hmm, remember the big brother who came to our house last time?”

“I remember. What about him?” Grandma sighed. She knew she might be missing a rare opportunity, but who would dare to place such a huge bet on a stranger? If anything went wrong, she might never see her two grandchildren again.

“He told me to watch a show on Friday. Then, I would know the answer. That’s what he said,” Liu Junxi explained.

“Oh? Really?” A hopeful light flickered in Grandma’s eyes. Holding Liu Tingting, who was playing nearby, she sat down beside them. “What could it be?”

“I don’t know, but I believe he wouldn’t say such things without reason,” Junxi said thoughtfully. “We’ll understand once we watch it.”

“All right, it’s starting.”

At the live broadcast of “The Singing Champion,” Wei Hongzhang’s calm voice came through the speakers. “All departments, prepare. Three, two, one, begin.”

“Let’s go!” Su Jianhao and Lin Qihua high-fived, then walked together toward the stage.

Meanwhile, Guan Shengjie was already standing on the stage, stirring the crowd’s emotions in his own unique way.

“The first contestant, we all call him the Destroyer. Everyone fears drawing the spot right after him because it means being overlooked by the audience again. And today, he’s first to perform. I think the second singer must be nervous. I strongly suggest that whenever he draws a position, the next singer should be arranged for a comeback performance right after him. Otherwise, it’s unfair to all contestants, especially me.” Guan Shengjie’s nostalgic expression drew laughter from the audience, who began shouting Lin Qihua’s name loudly.

“This singer brings a different emotional style each episode. The media has given up guessing his next song’s style. Today, what surprise will he bring us? Please welcome the next singer with his song ‘Existence.’”

“Let’s go.” Following the backstage director’s cue, Lin Qihua strode through the passageway, bathed in spotlight, onto the stage.

“Wow, that look!” Lu Zhixuan laughed and cried at once. “What’s he trying to do?”

The audience was puzzled, unsure what to make of it.

“Is he going for some kind of alternative style?” one viewer muttered, watching Lin Qihua smile and gesture to the crowd.

“Hey, that’s the big brother!” On the other side, in front of the TV, Liu Tingting immediately recognized Lin Qihua and shouted excitedly.

“It’s him,” Liu Junxi affirmed, staring at the figure basking in the applause under the spotlight. He looked somewhat dazed. “What exactly are you trying to tell me? Your identity? Or something else?”

Beside him, Grandma’s eyes gleamed with hope. Once she confirmed Lin Qihua bore no ill intent, seeing him radiate brilliance on the screen made her realize that perhaps her family truly had a chance to change their fate.

On stage, Lin Qihua paid no mind to the murmurs below. Collecting himself, he nodded to Gao Rui, signaling to begin.

Gao Rui softly waved his hand, and the piano began to play. Soon, the guitar and other orchestral instruments joined in.

“How many walk forward yet are trapped in place?
How many live yet seem already dead?
How many love yet feel as if parted?
How many smile but hide tears instead?”

Lin Qihua’s voice was weathered and vast. Those brief lyrics conjured vivid images in the listeners’ minds: elders, children, adults aimlessly wandering a scarred earth, desperately striving to survive by any means necessary.

“Wow, this is going to be big,” Lu Zhixuan paused his work, eyes wide in amazement at Lin Qihua’s performance. He had a premonition—tonight would bring major news.

“Who knows where we should head?
Who understands what life has become?
Should we find excuses to merely survive?
Or spread our wings and keep our anger alive?
How should I exist?”

In the hustle of city life, everyone seemed out of control, forgetting what they truly sought. They mechanically repeated the same work each day, with no time to reflect on life’s choices—how to live, how to exist.

“This feels so sad,” one viewer sighed. “At this moment, his outfit fits perfectly. Is he singing for each and every ordinary person among us?”

“Grandma, what’s wrong?” Liu Junxi asked, puzzled as tears welled in her eyes. He felt the song’s power but couldn’t explain why it moved him so deeply.

“Nothing, just a bit emotional,” she wiped her tears. “Xixi, if he comes again, promise me: no matter what he asks, you’ll agree. This is our only chance—the only chance to change your and Tingting’s fate. Grab it, and hold on tightly.”

“Okay, I know. He said after watching the show, I could contact him,” Junxi nodded.

“That’s good,” she smiled, patting his head reassuringly. “Heaven bless that you met him.”

On stage, Lin Qihua’s heart surged with passion. Fully immersed, every lyric he sang brimmed with strength, as if questioning each listener’s soul: How will you exist?

“Who knows where we should head?
Who understands what life has become?
Should we find excuses to merely survive?
Or spread our wings and keep our anger alive?”

The melody intensified, his voice rising until he was shouting and roaring, waves of sound radiating from him. Every eye fixed on the figure at center stage, screaming into the night sky, demanding: How will you live your life? Using the concept of existence to awaken and challenge us to ponder our being, its meaning, and how to live better.

Higher and higher, soaring even beyond the clouds, Lin Qihua forgot everything but pouring out his emotions. The high notes that usually eluded him now flowed effortlessly, even reaching new heights. Those soaring notes lingered and danced, endlessly striking the audience’s ears.

“I told you, this is going to be huge,” Lu Zhixuan quietly wiped his own tears. “Tonight, this stage will explode.”

“How should I exist??????”

With a final burst of high notes, Lin Qihua emerged from his emotional trance, drenched in sweat and tears, gasping for breath.

“That was exhilarating—my best performance yet, truly,” he thought, filled with satisfaction and pride. He held deep respect for the songwriter and all those who had performed classic versions before. What kind of passion does it take to craft such an epic piece?

“Whoa.” The once quiet audience erupted, everyone standing up—directors, musicians, backup singers alike. They all abandoned their tasks to give Lin Qihua a standing ovation, while the cameramen diligently captured the moment for countless homes.

“Clap! Clap! Clap!” Viewers at home rose as well, applauding the stunning performance. Though not present, their support was no less genuine.

Reporters were buzzing with excitement, sensing a headline story. Ignoring the rest of the program, they hastily opened their devices, racing to write reviews.

The applause continued unabated. Despite multiple bows, Lin Qihua could not quell the crowd’s enthusiasm. It took several minutes before the excitement began to subside, and he finally left the stage.

“I told you, standing behind him is such a miserable fate,” Guan Shengjie murmured with a helpless look, watching Lin Qihua exit. Then he turned, self-mocking, “Now you know how we feel.”

The audience laughed, realizing Guan Shengjie had a point. For the other singers, having Lin Qihua in the competition was torturous, but for the viewers, it was a blessing.

“Fortunately, our comeback singer performs next. Let’s give the competing singers a breather. Coming up, please welcome our returning performer,” Guan announced with a smile.

When Wen Weizhe appeared, his first words were, “Hello everyone, I’m the unlucky guy who always performs right after Lin Qihua, the comeback singer Wen Weizhe.”

The crowd chuckled warmly. Many felt a bit sorry for him after his first show, and his self-deprecating humor only endeared him more. They greeted his upcoming song with enthusiastic applause.

Backstage, Lin Qihua’s throat was hoarse and aching.

“You really gave it your all,” Su Jianhao gave him a thumbs-up.

“Heh, I just got carried away and didn’t hold back,” Lin Qihua smiled, satisfied with his performance.

Shen Manni quickly handed him a water bottle. “Be careful with your voice,” she advised.

“It’s nothing. I know the limits—just a little tired, no damage to my vocal cords,” Lin Qihua waved her off. “If I did it again, I’d need to rest for a while.”

“You’re reckless.”

“Ha, yeah, I pushed the high notes too far. Otherwise, it would have been easier.”

“Tonight, the media’s going to explode.”