Chapter 113: The Fourth Scene

After exchanging greetings, everyone sat down once more to discuss the performance.

Gao Rui took the score from Lin Qihua’s hands and gasped sharply. “You’re really going all out—so many instruments!”

“Yes, if the need arises,” Lin Qihua replied.

“Look here. Traditional Chinese instruments: guzheng, pipa, big drum, wooden fish, flute, clappers, cymbals, and sleigh bells,” Gao Rui rattled off the list while shaking the sheet music in his hand. “Western instruments: harp, electric guitar, bass, violin, drum set, cello. This is like an instrument convention!”

“Ha ha,” Ding Yi chuckled. “Xiao Hua, show him the finished effect and see what he thinks.”

“All right.” Lin Qihua handed the completed score to Gao Rui.

Gao Rui glanced over it once and his expression brightened with excitement; his eyes sparkled. “Good, good! The bigger the scale, the better—I like it.”

“Exactly, I like it too. That’s why we’re here,” Ding Yi said proudly. “If we didn’t love this song, do you think any of us would have come?”

“Of course not. You’re all masters in your fields. Just one of you appearing on our stage is already remarkable, let alone a whole group. We feel truly honored,” Wei Hongzhang flattered them, fully aware of the stir their presence would cause as Lin Qihua’s accompanists. He was also astonished by the resources at Lin Qihua’s disposal. “I promise to do everything in my power to ensure the live effect is flawless.”

“That’s good.” Ding Yi smiled contentedly.

“Let’s start rehearsals tomorrow. I think my orchestra can hardly wait to see this masterpiece come to life,” Gao Rui urged from the side. “Time is tight and the task heavy. We can rest after the rehearsal ends. How about that?”

“Sounds good. Everyone should cooperate a bit more. After all, this kind of ensemble is a first for us, so we need a solid foundation,” Ding Yi spoke on behalf of everyone.

“Qihua, for this episode, you’ll be the first to perform, right?” Wei Hongzhang asked.

“No problem,” Lin Qihua nodded.

“Great.” Wei Hongzhang turned to executive director Guo Muze. “For stage design, we must spare no effort to meet Qihua’s demands. Budget is unlimited. It must be perfect.”

Guo Muze nodded. “No problem. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll lead the team to adjust everything tomorrow. We have a few days—we’ll make it the best it can be.”

“All right, let’s talk privately.” Lin Qihua pulled Guo Muze aside and laid out his concepts and requirements for the stage design. The ingenuity of the design and the complexity of the segments even surprised Guo Muze, but all were technically feasible, so he agreed to each point.

Wei Hongzhang immediately called the resting crew, demanding everyone return to their posts tomorrow. He would tolerate no mistakes.

The following days were filled with intense activity—countless adjustments and rehearsals to find the perfect effect.

The stage underwent extensive modifications and decorations to accommodate the performance, utilizing all kinds of equipment. This was the first time “The Singing Champion” had made such a significant change for a single performance. Lin Qihua was truly breaking new ground.

Thus, amid the flurry of activity, “The Singing Champion” welcomed its fourth episode. Who would stay? Who would fall? Who would dominate? All remained unknown as the audience prepared once more for a musical feast.

“Three, two, one—go!” Wei Hongzhang’s calm voice carried a trace of anticipation, eager for the stunning work Lin Qihua was about to present.

“The Singing Champion,” episode four, officially began.

Guan Shengjie stepped onto the stage with a hint of melancholy. “Good evening, viewers. Welcome to the live broadcast of the grand competitive singing show on Xiangzhou Satellite TV, ‘The Singing Champion.’ I’m your host, Guan Shengjie.”

“Last episode, as you all know, we failed in the challenge against the singer. But those ranked lower aren’t necessarily safe. This episode, they will surely pull out all the stops to secure their place—myself included.”

The audience smiled warmly.

“But before I appear, everyone can see the stage has transformed beyond recognition. Look at the band around it—seeing them, I have a bad feeling: someone is about to go all out again.”

Everyone glanced forward. Indeed, the stage had expanded significantly. Pillars now surrounded the area, though otherwise changes were subtle. The orchestra had many unfamiliar faces, all uniformly clad in blue and white, looking sharp and spirited.

“Who could it be? Let’s welcome the first competing singer to perform his piece, ‘Blue and White Porcelain,’” Guan Shengjie announced and stepped back.

Two middle-aged women, both dressed in matching blue-and-white long dresses, walked onto the stage arm in arm and sat on opposite sides, playing pipa and guzheng respectively.

“Wow, these are the nation’s top pipa master, Fu Ziwen, and the premier guzheng player, He Yun Yue. They are known as the twin pillars of Chinese traditional music. It’s incredible they were both invited,” many knowledgeable media reporters immediately recognized them. In the realm of traditional music, these two were legendary.

“That’s not all. Look down there—Ding Yi, Dai Lingxuan, and the other instrumentalists are all top figures in their fields. We’re in for a treat,” someone exclaimed.

Amid the buzzing conversation, Lin Qihua appeared, dressed in a white Zhongshan suit embroidered with blue patterns, exuding refined elegance.

“Wow!” The audience erupted in thunderous applause upon seeing Lin Qihua. They recalled the shock his last performance had delivered and eagerly awaited the surprises this time.

Lin Qihua greeted the audience and signaled to the surrounding musicians, then closed his eyes, waiting for the cue.

“Dong, dong, dong.” Ding Yi tapped the big drum with delicate strokes, followed by the gentle clacking of wooden clappers. Fu Ziwen’s ten fingers plucked lightly; the pipa and flute blended softly, like a mountain spring quietly flowing through rocky streams in a breeze—clear, bright, winding, and endlessly evocative. In an instant, the scene of a misty Jiangnan town emerged vividly.

The stage center and surrounding pillars lit up simultaneously. A finely crafted blue-and-white porcelain plate spun slowly at center stage, while the pillars rotated with matching blue-and-white patterns. A beaded curtain gently descended from behind, swaying softly in the breeze, enchanting in its beauty.

As the music faded, Lin Qihua smiled faintly. Raising his microphone, his voice seemed to transcend time and space, reaching the mesmerized audience.

“Plain clay outlines a brushstroke darkening then fading,
On the vase, peonies bloom like your first makeup,
Slowly, sandalwood incense drifts through the window—my heart understands,
The brush stops halfway across the rice paper.”

With just a few lines and simple, melodious accompaniment, the audience glimpsed a misty, watercolor Jiangnan landscape. Amid the rippling water and clouds, a lady in white fluttered like a delicate brushstroke.

“The sky-blue waits for the misty rain; I wait for you,
Smoke curls upward across the river, thousands of miles away,
At the bottle’s base, Han script mimics the elegance of a former dynasty,
As if I were setting the stage for meeting you.”

“Rain-soaked sky blue clouds…” The sky blue after rain is the finest hue in blue-and-white porcelain, rare and exquisite. It cannot appear on its own but must wait patiently for a rain unknown in timing. Only when the clouds clear can this heavenly blue emerge under the bright sky. Waiting for a day as misty and rainy as this to reunite with the loved one, even if “smoke curls upward across the river, thousands of miles away.”

Among the audience, Gu Yuhan and Han Jiaqi sat quietly in a corner. They knew Gu Yuhan must remain unseen to avoid countless troubles. Both were heavily cloaked, faces mostly covered, only their eyes focused intently on the stage.

“Sky-blue waits for misty rain; I wait for you,
Moonlight is gathered and blurred, revealing the ending,
Like treasured blue-and-white porcelain, beautiful on its own,
Your eyes carry a smile.”

Under the hazy moonlight, had the ending truly unfolded? Had the beloved, long thought of day and night, been seen?

“So beautiful,” Gu Yuhan sighed softly. For this song, for that beloved, like exquisite porcelain—pure, elegant, fresh, and flowing.

During the interlude, the guzheng’s strings teased, clappers snapped crisply, and the pipa sang softly, like a boat drifting through misty rain over the river. The subtle beauty hovered before their eyes, as if someone were quietly sharing a tale tinged with sorrow, restraint, and a touch of elegance—not overtly bold, but feelings swelling like a gentle tide.

At some point, a giant vase appeared slowly spinning center stage. As it turned, delicate patterns emerged, gradually sketching a beautiful portrait of a graceful lady.

“Outside the curtain, plantain leaves stir in sudden rain; the door knocker tinges green with age,
I passed through that Jiangnan town and stirred your heart,
In the ink-wash landscape painting,
You are hidden deep within the shades.”

The sound of rain outside the plantain curtain is urgent and fleeting like time itself; the beauty within the blue-and-white porcelain remains, while only I have aged. Your charm is forever frozen in the timeless porcelain, to be admired, savored, and cherished.

A gentle breeze brought a light misty rain, drizzling softly. The audience felt a faint dampness on their faces.

For a moment, the haze added a layer of poignant beauty.

The porcelain at center stage subtly vanished, transforming into a living lady who danced gracefully to the music. Dressed in white with a blue sash, her movements were elegant and flowing—as if the lady on the blue-and-white porcelain had come to life to dance for the audience in this misty Jiangnan town.

“Sky-blue waits for misty rain; I wait for you.” While waiting, one may read, write, recite poetry, paint, or play music, but never forget the one awaited. Is it painful? No. The sorrow and longing can slowly fade. What of unrequited love and painful partings? All beings suffer. Waiting is a beautiful state of mind—perhaps this life’s meeting merely lays the groundwork for reunion in the next. With such thoughts, one can find peace. Even if reunion never comes, gratitude remains for that fleeting, stunning encounter.

At the very least, across mountains and rivers, we can gaze upon the curling smoke of Jiangnan’s cooking fires. Amid vast crowds, we silently recall that faint silhouette from memory, just as we quietly admire the everlasting beauty of timeless blue-and-white porcelain through the layers of history.

Lin Qihua deliberately mimicked the tones of Jiangnan opera, chanting repeatedly until the soft, misty rain of Jiangnan completely melted the hearts of all listeners.

The pipa whispered softly, the clappers echoed gently, gradually fading into silence. The lingering melody left endless aftertastes.