Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 109, "Sorrow Relief," opens the way.

"Okay, that concludes the media Q&A session!"

"Friends, after hearing so many stories from President Zheng about the miracles of his new album 'Half a Lifetime,' I'm sure you're all eager to find out more, right?"

"Next up is the most exciting part of this press conference! Mr. Zheng Hui will be here to premiere two songs from his new album 'Half a Lifetime' for media friends from all over Asia!"

The reporters below the stage instantly set up all their cameras and microphones again, and the red lights on the cameras flashed wildly.

What's the point of listening to Zheng Donghan's flowery words? No matter how brilliant his response was just now, it was all just empty talk!

For singers, music itself is the anchor!

They wanted to hear just how terrifying the magic of this album, which was hailed as a masterpiece by Universal's top executives and touted as being created specifically for adults, truly was!

The main lights in the banquet hall went out instantly.

On the stage, only a cold white spotlight remained, shining straight onto the high stool in the center.

Zheng Hui sat quietly in the spotlight.

The noisy banquet hall fell silent as hundreds of eyes were fixed on the young man on the stage.

"Just now, a friend from Taiwan asked me what I thought about missing out on the big prize," Zheng Hui said into the microphone, as if he were having a casual chat with an old friend.

"Actually, I don't care at all. Because I know that in this world, there are too many people who don't even have the right to be judged by others."

"This first song is dedicated to everyone here, and also to everyone who, in the dead of night, raises a glass, trying to drown their resentment and weariness."

Its name is "Sorrow".

"When you step into this place of joy—"

"Carry all my dreams and aspirations on my back—"

When Zheng Hui spoke, his deliberately lowered voice carried a tone that seemed out of place for someone his age.

"Different faces, different makeup—"

"No one remembers what you look like—"

The moment the first two sentences were uttered, many reporters in the audience were immediately drawn into the conversation.

For some reason, these four ordinary lines of poetry were like a mirror, suddenly reflecting their own experiences.

These journalists spend their days rushing between high-end entertainment venues, observing glamorous celebrities and business owners, and admiring all sorts of makeup looks.

But what about them? They are just invisible people carrying equipment and recording pens. Who would remember what a paparazzi or a reporter looks like?

"After three rounds of drinks, you're in the corner—"

"Stubbornly singing bitter songs—"

"Listen to it being drowned out by the noise—"

You pick up your glass and say to yourself—

Zheng Hui closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and his voice carried a power that struck straight to the soul!

"One cup to the rising sun, one cup to the moonlight—"

'

"Awakening my longing, softening the cold window" 7

"So you can fly against the wind without looking back—"

"Not afraid of rain in my heart, nor frost in my eyes"

A Hong Kong local weekly magazine writer in his forties stared blankly at Zheng Hui on the stage, feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Sunrise, moonlight, rain in my heart, frost in my eyes—" he repeated the lyrics.

What incredible power in writing!

Sunrise and moonlight—those are the softest, purest longings in everyone's heart. In our youth, who hasn't had the urge to fly against the wind? But what about now?

Before they could recover from the shock of the first two drinks, Zheng Hui's singing voice overwhelmed them like a surging tide!

"One cup to my hometown, one cup to the distant land—"

"Guarding my kindness urges me to grow."

"Therefore, the road between north and south is no longer long—"

"The soul no longer has nowhere to rest - 9"

The Taiwanese reporter who had been so aggressive just moments before suddenly swallowed hard.

He is 38 years old this year and has been working hard in the city center for 15 years after coming from the countryside of Taipei.

He can't go back to his hometown, and he can't reach the distant places. Every day, he writes those harsh reports to grab attention. His kindness has long been eaten away by the day and night struggle to pay off his mortgage.

"Guarding my kindness urges me to grow—" His eyes reddened.

"One glass to tomorrow, one glass to the past."

"Supporting my body, your shoulders became strong and supportive—"

"6

Although I've never believed in the saying "mountains are high and rivers are long"—

Life is too short to dwell on the past.

"One cup to freedom, one cup to death—"

'

"Forgive my ordinariness, and the confusion will be dispelled."

"Okay, I always leave hastily after dawn—"

"The most absurd people are those who are clear-headed."

'

As the last eight words faded slowly into the banquet hall along with the guitar's final notes, the entire room fell silent.

There was no applause, no camera shutter sound.

This isn't singing; it's like using a knife to slowly peel away the tough exterior these adults wear on their hearts!

Eight glasses of wine!

Sunrise and moonlight, hometown and distant places, tomorrow and the past, freedom and death!

Mao Buyi's lyrics, which were later hailed as the work of a young Li Zongsheng, have a devastating impact in this era!

It uses sophisticated melancholy to vividly and realistically depict a person's journey from birth to death, from hope to resignation to ordinariness, leaving the reader with a bloody and vivid impression!

"The most absurd people are those who are clear-headed."

In the front row, a female reporter in her thirties silently slid tears down her cheeks. She remembered her ambition when she first joined the newspaper, the beatings she received from the editor-in-chief for trying to get a trivial news story, and the pitiful amount of money in her bank account.

Living too consciously in this world is truly a form of torture.

If this song only went this far, it would just be a sad song.

But Zheng Hui did not stop.

He didn't give these people a chance to wipe their tears or catch their breath.

Zheng Hui snapped his fingers.

The sound engineer backstage immediately turned off the accompaniment for the second song.

There was still no complicated electronic music, only the clear and cool sound of the piano.

"The first song is to teach you how to drown your sorrows in alcohol." Zheng Hui held the microphone and looked down at the media people in the audience with red eyes.

"But for the second song, I'd like to ask you all a question."

How many people like you and me are there in this world?

The second song is titled "A Person Like Me"!

The piano's rhythm was soothing and sorrowful; Zheng Hui closed his eyes, and his voice became even softer.

"Someone as outstanding as me—"

"He should have lived a brilliant life—"

"How come after more than twenty years—"

Still adrift in the sea of ​​people—

Upon hearing this first sentence, the psychological defenses of the proud media professionals in the audience, those journalists who considered themselves uncrowned kings and wielded the power of social discourse, collapsed instantly!

Who doesn't think they're excellent?

Which one of you here wasn't a top student in college back then? Which one of you didn't enter society with the dream of shouldering responsibilities and upholding justice?

They all thought they were the protagonists of this world, and that they would live a brilliant life.

But now, I'm almost forty, and every day I'm still struggling like duckweed in the sea of ​​people, worrying about rent and my boss's mood!

"Someone as smart as me—"

"I've long since said goodbye to naivety—"

"Why did you still use a past relationship—"

"Go and get a body covered in scars—"

"People like me who are lost and confused—"

"People like me who are searching—"

"Someone as mediocre as me—"

How many other people have you met?

This is no longer just a song; it's a series of interrogations of the soul of every ordinary person!

Every sentence like "like me" tears away the unsavory things they try to hide: their arrogance, their feigned intelligence, their inherent cowardice, and their loneliness in the dead of night.

"A lonely person like me—"

"Someone as foolish as me—"

"Someone like me who refuses to be ordinary—"

How many people are there in the world?

"Someone as inexplicable as me—"

"Will anyone feel sorry for me?"

The climax of the chorus has no screaming, only self-mockery after suppression.

But this low shout filled the entire banquet hall with a suffocating sense of desolation.

The Taiwanese reporter who had just questioned the Golden Melody Awards had now completely put down his recording pen and leaned back in his chair.

He suddenly felt like a clown.

Golden Melody Awards? Lyricist?

Screw trophies! Screw music theory and composition!

To write a song that makes you want to immediately find a secluded corner to grieve alone, what kind of judges do you need to approve of it?!

When the final piano note, "Will anyone feel sorry for me?" faded away, the entire banquet hall fell silent.

Even the most notoriously cunning Hong Kong paparazzi felt as if their throats were stuffed with a wad of waterlogged cotton, making them feel suffocated.

This wasn't a new album launch event; it was practically a psychological torture session for hundreds of adults in attendance!

Zheng Hui stood on the stage, looking at the frozen shutters below the stage, and at the eyes glistening with tears.

He knew that the fire had been lit.

"Thank you everyone. These two songs are included in the album 'Half a Lifetime,' which was released on May 8th. I hope you enjoy listening to them." Zheng Hui bowed slightly, turned around, and walked off the stage.

Only after his figure disappeared into the shadows backstage did applause erupt in the banquet hall!

The day after the press conference, the entire entertainment media industry in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and even mainland China seemed to have experienced a major earthquake!

On the morning of May 2nd, when newspapers were delivered to newsstands and tea restaurants throughout Hong Kong, all the headlines were dominated by the same name—Cheng Fai!

The Oriental Daily News' front page headline used extremely exaggerated large print: "[A record-breaking 50 million yuan contract! Zheng Hui wrote 'Floating Life' in seven days and forged 'Half a Lifetime' in four days! Universal Music makes a huge gamble on a genius!]"

The entertainment section of Ming Pao carried a headline tinged with skepticism and shock: "Is it a music phenomenon or a shocking scam? Eleven songs written in four days for a new album targeting middle-aged audiences—is Universal forcing growth?"

Apple Daily used the most scathing language: [Refusing to discuss his loss at the Golden Melody Awards, Cheng Hui arrogantly said, "The most absurd people are the sober ones!"]

Universal Music Group has invested 50 million to create the biggest buzz in the Chinese music scene!

Meanwhile, in Taiwan, across the strait, the Taiwanese reporters who had their eyes redden yesterday sent their emotionally charged reports back to their Taipei headquarters overnight.

The reporter's emotional reaction was one thing, but what truly propelled this report to the top of the headlines was the massive sums of money Universal Music secretly poured into it. Fueled by Universal's powerful public relations and financial resources in Taiwan, the Taiwanese media happily shifted the news focus from the previous Golden Melody Awards loss to this astonishing creative process.

The following day, the China Times and United Daily News ran sensational headlines on their entertainment front pages: "[Four Days! Eight Glasses of Wine! Macau's Musical Prodigy Creates an Impossible Pop Myth!]"

Immediately, public opinion on both sides of the Taiwan Strait was in an uproar.

When ordinary citizens who did not attend the press conference saw those numbers in the newspaper, their first reaction was all four words: utterly absurd!

"Are you kidding me? Write an album in four days?"

In a Hong Kong-style cafe, a young office worker eating a pineapple bun slammed a newspaper on the table and scoffed, "Even if 'Floating Life' is really good, can you listen to 'Half a Lifetime,' which he rushed out in four days? It's definitely all shoddy garbage!"

"Exactly!" chimed in the taxi driver next to him. "He claims it's written specifically for middle-aged men like us? What does a nineteen-year-old know? He's probably just trying to scam us into buying his records!"

Doubt, ridicule, and disdain quickly spread through the streets and alleys. The masses are always blindly obedient, and without any real material to support it, the label of "writing an album in four days" seemed like a reckless hype.

However, Universal Music acted much faster than the public imagined.

Since he had promised to run the charts around the clock on May 2nd, Zheng Donghan was absolutely not going to break his word. His instructions not only reached Hong Kong but also traveled overseas overnight to Universal Music Taiwan!

At 10 a.m., when public opinion in Hong Kong and Taiwan was questioning whether this was a publicity stunt.

Universal Music sold high-definition video clips of Zheng Hui performing "Sorrow" and "A Person Like Me" at yesterday's press conference directly to TVB and ATV.

Meanwhile, the live audio versions of the two songs were exclusively released on Hong Kong Commercial Radio, Metro Radio, mainland provincial traffic radio channels, and Taiwan's UFO Radio and HitFM network through purchased time slots!

10:30 a.m.

On a street in Kowloon Tong, Hong Kong, a red taxi is stuck in traffic, and the glove compartment is crammed with credit card bills.

The car radio DJ's voice came through: "The next song we're playing is from Universal Music's major new artist of the year, Zheng Hui. This isn't a studio recording, but a live recording from yesterday's press conference. It's dedicated to everyone struggling in life. The song is called 'Sorrow'."

"Tch, that gimmicky kid." The driver curled his lip in disdain and prepared to change the channel.

Just as his finger was about to touch the knob.

Zheng Hui's voice drifted out from the cheap car stereo.

"One cup to the rising sun, one cup to the moonlight—"

The green light at the intersection turned on, and the cars behind honked their horns to urge him on, but Uncle Hua seemed to be frozen in place.

"Holding onto my kindness, urging me to grow—"

Upon hearing this, the driver's eyes suddenly welled up with tears. These days, he competes with his fellow drivers for passengers every day just to earn a few extra dollars in fares; his kindness has long since vanished.

"The most absurd people are those who are clear-headed."

"Beep—!!" The horn of the truck behind us blared deafeningly.

The driver snapped out of his reverie, hurriedly shifted gears, stepped on the gas, and the car drove aimlessly through the streets of Kowloon.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the strait, on Zhongxiao East Road in Taipei.

Although Zheng Hui himself was unable to travel to Taiwan in person for the promotional event due to special circumstances such as cross-strait procedures, Universal Music Taiwan directly mobilized its financial resources. They purchased huge poster spaces in Ximending and major shopping districts, and secured prime time slots on popular radio stations and street loudspeakers to continuously play yesterday's live recording.

A middle-aged pharmaceutical sales representative, who had just been severely reprimanded by his supervisor, was sitting on a bench by the roadside, smoking in silence.

The live version of that song was playing from the loudspeakers of a record store on the street.

"Someone as outstanding as me—should have lived a brilliant life—"

"How come after more than twenty years—I'm still adrift in the sea of ​​people—"

The pharmaceutical representative took a deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling a long plume of smoke. His eyes were red, as if from smoking too much.

So what if Zheng Hui himself didn't endorse it? These incisive lyrics and music crossed the strait, becoming the sharpest weapon to pierce the psychological defenses of countless middle-aged Taiwanese!

The same scene unfolded in the cubicles of a high-end office building in Central, and in the stalls set up in Huaqiangbei, Shenzhen.

It happens to countless people who feel overwhelmed by life.

The signing ceremony was broadcast on television news and radio during the midday break yesterday.

Those newspaper readers who were frantically mocking Zheng Hui's hype during morning tea time fell silent when they heard the question on TV: "Would anyone feel sorry for someone as inexplicable as me?"

Not only middle-aged people, but also many young students who originally only liked "Stubborn" were attracted by the sophisticated lyrics in these two songs.

"One cup to freedom, one cup to death—these lyrics are so poetic! I'm going to copy them onto the first page of my diary!" On the campuses of various high schools, countless boys and girls were captivated by the lyrics of this eight-cup toast.

That evening, countless office workers in suits and ties flocked to record stores throughout Hong Kong and Taiwan, asking the same question in unison: "Boss! Do you have Zheng Hui's CD called 'Half a Lifetime' for sale?!"

A hurricane sweeping across Mainland China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, appealing to all age groups, officially took shape in the Chinese music scene on the evening of May 2nd.