Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 82 In front of the television

New Year's Eve, backstage at CCTV's Studio One.

People were everywhere, stagehands with walkie-talkies were running around the stage, and dancers in costumes were practicing their moves as they raced against time.

Richie Jen stood on the side of the stage entrance, clutching the microphone tightly in his hand.

Zheng Hui reached out and patted his collar: "Brother Qi, don't shake."

"I'm not shivering, I'm just cold." Richie Jen took a breath, his chest rising and falling slightly.

The host at the front desk, Zhao Zhongxiang, announced in a loud voice: "Next, please enjoy the song 'The Girl Across the Way,' sung by Richie Jen."

As the music began, the sound of the guitar strumming was crisp and melodious.

Richie Jen stepped out, the tension he felt earlier by the side of the stage vanishing instantly. He smiled, waved, and ran towards the center of the stage.

"Hey girl across the way, look over here, look over here, look over here—"

Zheng Hui stood backstage, his eyes fixed on the monitor screen showing the current situation in the main performance hall.

The song has a light and upbeat rhythm. After Richie Jen finished singing the first verse, he didn't linger in the center of the stage but ran down the steps.

These are the positions that were planned during rehearsals.

Back then, the Spring Festival Gala stage and the audience seats weren't as far apart as they are now; there was even a small secondary stage set up in the middle of the audience seats.

Richie Jen walked onto the small stage surrounded by the audience: "I looked left and right, up and down, and realized that every girl is extraordinary."

The atmosphere heated up after Richie Jen sang the song a second time.

The camera pans across the audience.

Zheng Hui saw several familiar faces on the monitor; they were all big names in the business world.

Suddenly, the camera zoomed in on a close-up of the round table in the front row.

Zong Qinghou.

Richie Jen sang while spinning around on a small stage. The audience members around him were less than a meter away. A little audience member, whether it was arranged or spontaneous, ran up to him and gave him a plush toy. He smiled and accepted it before continuing to sing.

By the time the chorus ended, the audience was already familiar with the song and clapped along to the rhythm.

After finishing the song, Richie Jen bowed to all four sides and then ran back to the backstage area via the passageway.

As soon as he entered the side curtain section, he let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall.

"How was it? Did it go wrong?" Richie Jen asked Zheng Hui.

"It's all set." Zheng Hui handed him a bottle of water: "The camera just cut to the audience, and everyone was singing along with you."

Richie Jen unscrewed the water bottle and took a big gulp: "Finally passed. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief these past few days."

He didn't rush to remove his makeup, but found a box by the side curtain and sat down: "I'll wait with you for a while, and we'll leave after you're done."

The programs on the front desk kept coming one after another.

About half an hour later, after Cui Yongyuan announced the program, Zhao Benshan and Song Dandan went up.

The skit is titled "Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow".

"The spring breeze of reform sweeps across the land, and the Chinese people are truly remarkable!"

As soon as the lines were spoken, laughter could be heard from the front of the stage.

Zheng Hui and Richie Jen also gathered in front of the monitor to watch.

Zhao Benshan's Tieling dialect, paired with Song Dandan's jokes, delivered one punchline after another.

The skit, which lasted for more than ten minutes, was filled with laughter the whole time.

By the time they finished performing, they were drenched in sweat. Zhao Benshan took off his hat, fanned himself, and walked backstage.

As I passed by the side curtain strip, I ran into Zheng Hui and Richie Jen.

"Oh my, aren't these two compatriots from Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan who came to sing?" Zhao Benshan looked at them with a smile: "They sang quite well just now. I heard it all from the back. It was lively."

Richie Jen quickly stood up: "Teacher Zhao, your skit was hilarious! We were laughing so hard our stomachs hurt."

Zheng Hui also called out, "Teacher Zhao."

Zhao Benshan waved his hand: "What teacher or not, we're all just workers. Where are you two from, Hong Kong, Macau, or Taiwan?"

"I'm from Taiwan," Richie Jen said.

"I'm from Macau," Zheng Hui replied.

"Oh my god, that's quite a distance." Zhao Benshan tucked his hat under his arm. "It's the Lunar New Year, everyone's had a tough time, coming all this way to make everyone happy. Any plans for tonight?"

Both of them shook their heads.

"That's perfect. I have nowhere to go either, and I have an interview to do later. I think you two shouldn't leave either. After we're done, let's find a place together, get some dumplings, and have a couple of drinks. It's the New Year, we can't go hungry."

Richie Jen glanced at Zheng Hui.

Zheng Hui nodded: "Sure, if Teacher Zhao is going to treat us to a meal, then I definitely have to go."

"All done!" Zhao Benshan walked happily towards the dressing room: "You two get busy and sing well. I'll wait for you in the back."

Watching Zhao Benshan walk away, Richie Jen nudged Zheng Hui on the shoulder and said, "That Teacher Zhao is quite easygoing."

"That's right, he's a true artist."

A clear, childlike voice rang out from the front desk.

"Do you know that Macau is not my real name? I have been away from you for too long, Mother—"

Nine-year-old Rong Yunlin, a girl from Macau, stood in the center of the stage and sang.

After the song ended, thunderous applause erupted.

Host Ni Ping walked onto the stage with a microphone and announced, "Just now, Rong Yunlin, a little girl from Macau, sang 'The Song of the Seven Sons,' expressing four hundred years of longing, which warmed our hearts. This longing is like the water of the Pearl River Estuary in Macau, flowing day and night without ever stopping."

"In fact, every wanderer has a song for their mother in their heart. No matter where they go, no matter how many mountains and seas separate them, as long as their mother's figure is there, their heart is at peace."

"Today, another young man from Macao will use the softest voice in his heart to sing out this affection. Please enjoy 'My Motherland and I' next."

"Singer: Zheng Hui"

Zheng Hui stepped onto the stage, and the music began.

Unlike the grand symphonic arrangement of previous songs, this time the prelude is a melodious violin, like waves gently lapping against the rocks.

Zheng Hui raised the microphone, looking at the camera as if he were looking at a long-lost relative.

"My country and I are inseparable—"

The moment the first sentence was uttered, the previously noisy atmosphere instantly fell silent.

This voice is so unique.

It is gentle, it is narrative, it carries a slight breath, like a lover's whisper in the ear, or like a traveler's murmur in a dream.

There were no grand, sweeping shouts, only a gentle, flowing stream of affection.

The camera gave Zheng Hui a close-up.

His eyes were clean and clear, with a hint of tears glistening in them, but he controlled them perfectly and they didn't fall.

He did this intentionally, relying on his newfound control over his reborn body.

"Wherever I go, a hymn flows forth—"

This singing style transforms a revolutionary song into a pop hit, while retaining its profound emotional weight.

"I sing of every mountain, I sing of every river—"

During the chorus, Zheng Hui's voice rose slightly, but he remained restrained.

He was telling a story, about the mountains, the rivers, and the days spent wandering far from home.

Offstage, an elderly overseas Chinese man with gray hair took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

Beijing, the aerospace compound.

The firecrackers outside were going off incessantly, and the television inside was on loudly.

Gao Yuanyuan was wearing a sweater, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, holding a bowl of freshly cooked dumplings in her hands.

On the television screen, Zheng Hui was singing the chorus.

"My dearest motherland, I will always cling to your heart—"

Gao Yuanyuan's chopsticks froze in mid-air; the steaming dumplings made her eyes sting.

She looked at the person on the screen.

The light shone on his profile, highlighting his features, and his eyes were as gentle as water.

"This person sings really well." Mr. Gao sat next to him, took a sip of baijiu, and said, "Not flashy, but heartfelt."

Gao's mother brought over a dish of vinegar: "Is this the young man you took those 'GG' photos with? His name is Zheng Hui?"

"Mm," Gao Yuanyuan responded, placing the bowl on the coffee table.

As she watched TV, her mind was filled with the image of Zheng Hui explaining the scene to her in the cold wind on the day they filmed GG.

And the way he signed her CD after the audition that day.

On the television, Zheng Hui finished singing the last line, bowed slightly, and the lights gradually dimmed.

Gao Yuanyuan suddenly stood up: "Dad, Mom, I'm going out for a bit."

Mr. Gao was taken aback: "It's New Year's Eve, the dumplings have just been served, where are you going?"

"I'm going to see a friend." Gao Yuanyuan grabbed the clothes hanging on the hanger and put them on while changing her shoes.

"What kind of friends do you have to meet at this time? Why don't you eat first and then go?" Gao's mother called from behind.

"It's too late!"

Gao Yuanyuan pushed open the door, and a gust of cold wind rushed in. She shrank her neck and hastily wrapped her scarf around her neck.

"I'll be right back!"

The door slammed shut.

The yard was littered with red firecracker paper scraps, and the air reeked of sulfur. Gao Yuanyuan ran to the wall, pulled out her old bicycle, hopped on, and rode off.

As soon as she rode out of the compound gate, an even stronger gust of cold wind hit her in the face, making her shiver. She suddenly realized that it was such a long way from Yungang to CCTV, and by the time she finally made it there, it would be almost dawn, and everyone in the studio would have already left.

She gritted her teeth, turned her bike around, and rode towards a more bustling section of the town. Although Yungang is relatively remote, it's a major aerospace center, so there's a significant demand for travel to and from the city. Even though there are fewer cars on New Year's Eve, with enough patience, she could always find a late-shift driver heading to the city.

When she reached the intersection, she found a roadside stall where people watched over bicycles. She said a few kind words to the old man watching the bicycles, slipped him some money, and temporarily left her bicycle there.

Standing by the roadside in the cold wind, she stamped her feet and kept looking towards the intersection. Just as she was about to freeze, a yellow van finally wobbled towards her.

Gao Yuanyuan quickly rushed over and waved. The driver stuck his head out and asked, "Where are you going, young lady?"

"Driver, to the city center, to CCTV!"

"Alright, come on up!"

In an ordinary residential building in Yantai, Shandong.

Fan Binbin sat at the dining table, with a sumptuous New Year's Eve dinner laid out in front of him.

Braised fish, four-happiness meatballs, braised pig's trotters, and a large plate of steaming dumplings.

The sound of the Spring Festival Gala echoed in the living room from the television.

But the atmosphere at the dinner table was not lively.

Mr. Fan poured himself a glass of wine, took a sip in silence, and said nothing.

Fan's mother picked up her chopsticks and placed a piece of pork rib on Fan Binbin's plate: "Eat more, you've lost weight on set."

Fan Binbin lowered his head and rummaged through the rice in his bowl.

A few days ago, the court summons arrived at my home.

-

Qiong Yao's company sued her for breach of contract, seeking one million yuan in damages.

One million.

In this day and age, this is an astronomical sum for an ordinary family.

My parents have been so worried these past few days that their hair has turned quite white. They've been calling around everywhere to borrow money and trying to find connections.

Just before dinner, my mother was wiping away tears in her bedroom.

But now, sitting at the dinner table, none of them mentioned it; they were all forcing smiles.

"Dad, Mom, you eat too." Fan Binbin looked up, forced a smile, and served food to his parents.

Zheng Hui's singing voice came from the television.

"You speak to me with the pulse of your mother—"

Fan Binbin paused in her actions, turned her head, and looked at the television.

Zheng Hui stood in the center of the stage, radiating brilliance.

He was so dazzling, so confident, as if he could hold up the sky even if it fell.

Fan Binbin recalled that day at the Beijing Film Studio when Zheng Hui handed her that cell phone in front of so many people.

He said, "With this, it will be easier to contact you in the future."

He said, "I'm sure you'll become famous."

Fan Binbin put down his chopsticks, reached into his pocket, and touched the cell phone.

She took out her phone, hid it under the table, and started typing on the keyboard with her thumb.

"Brother Hui, Happy New Year! I saw you on TV, you sang so well. Are you cold in Beijing? Remember to wear more clothes."

After typing that line, she thought for a moment and added, "I'm fine, everything's fine at home, and I ate a lot of dumplings."

As she looked at those words, her eyes welled up with tears.

She didn't want him to know about the mess she was making, and she didn't want to upset him during the Lunar New Year.

After much deliberation, she deleted that line, afraid that he would notice something was amiss.

The text message was sent out.

Fan Binbin put his phone back in his pocket, looked up, and picked up his chopsticks again.

"Mom, these ribs are delicious, you should have some too."

She laughed as she ate the ribs with gusto, swallowing her tears along with the aroma of the meat.

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