Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

After leaving the Music Life magazine office, Liu Huan was in a good mood: "Old Qin nodded, so it will be easier to handle Old Zhang's side."

Grandpa Zhang Li is a man who appreciates the atmosphere and feeling. Your version of the song perfectly captures that longing, touching a chord deep within him.

The three of them took a taxi to a residential area and stopped in front of a red brick building.

Liu Huan led Zheng Hui upstairs and knocked on a security door on the third floor.

The door opened, and an elderly man with a full head of white hair stood in the doorway.

Zhang Li.

This is a master lyricist who wrote "Asian Heroic Spirit" and "The Shadow of the Fence".

Liu Huan said, "Old Zhang, I've brought the person to you."

Zhang Li's gaze fell on Zheng Hui: "Is this the young man?"

Zheng Hui stepped forward and bowed: "Hello, Teacher Zhang, I am Zheng Hui."

Zhang Li asked, "Are you going to change my lyrics?"

"It's not about changing the lyrics," Zheng Hui quickly explained. "Not a single word of the lyrics has changed; it's about changing the way it's sung."

"Oh?" Zhang Li's interest was piqued: "The words remain the same, but the flavor can change?"

Liu Huan chimed in, "Have him sing one, and you'll understand. Just now with Master Qin, he gave him the authorization right away after listening to him sing."

Zhang Li also became interested: "Even that stubborn old man Qin Yongcheng said it's good? Then you sing it, I'll listen."

Zheng Hui inhaled and opened his mouth, still that breathy voice, still that feeling of being close.

"My country and I are inseparable..."

Zhang Li wrote this poem in Zhangjiajie. It was a feeling of pride welling up in his heart as he looked at the magnificent landscape of his motherland.

But now, when sung by this young man from Macau, the lyrics have taken on a different meaning.

It is no longer a shout from the mountaintop, but a murmur from a traveler returning home.

"The waves are the children of the sea, and the sea is the waves' refuge..."

When the piece ended, the old man didn't say much. He wrote "authorization" on the photocopy of the score, signed it, and stamped it with his red seal.

Zhang Li handed the sheet music to Zheng Hui: "The lyrics are the shell, the emotion is the soul. You've captured that soul very well."

Zheng Hui accepted it with both hands: "Thank you, Teacher Zhang."

As we left Zhang's house, the sun was already setting.

Liu Huan was in high spirits, walking with a swagger: "We've moved two huge mountains, now it's time to get to work. Do you have any ideas for the accompaniment?"

"Yes." Zheng Hui nodded: "Not a large orchestra, that would be too heavy. Just a piano, with a little bit of strings as a base."

Liu Huan's eyes lit up: "Subtraction? That's interesting. Tell me more about it."

"The intro is played on the piano, crisp and clear, like water droplets. The first section is accompanied only by the piano, emphasizing the storytelling quality of the vocals."

The second section features the cello, drawing a line that supports the emotion. In the climax, the violin enters, but doesn't overpower; it should flow like the wind from behind.

"This approach is right. The core of this song is emotion, not style. The simpler the instrumentation, the more prominent the vocals become."

Liu Huan didn't stop for a moment and took Zheng Hui directly to his usual recording studio.

Upon arriving at the studio, sound engineer Lao Zhang greeted Liu Huan with, "Hey, Huan-ge, what brings you here today?"

"Record a demo, Lao Zhang, turn on the camera. I'll play the piano, and we'll use a synthesizer to lay the groundwork for the strings."

The recording studio was bustling with activity all afternoon.

Liu Huan personally handled the arrangement, his fingers flying across the black and white keys, the notes flowing out like water.

Zheng Hui wasn't idle either; he hummed harmonies and adjusted the details on the side.

"Here, play the piano a little softer."

"Here, the cello entered half a beat too early."

The two worked together seamlessly, like longtime partners, and the accompaniment was perfect for two hours.

"Go into the studio." Liu Huan put on his headphones and waved to Zheng Hui.

Zheng Hui walked into the recording studio and stood in front of the microphone.

Liu Huan's voice came through the headphones: "Let's test the sound."

"Hey, feed me." Zheng Hui adjusted his posture and brought his lips close to the microphone, less than a fist's distance away.

This distance allows you to record breathing sounds and the subtle sounds of your lips and teeth opening and closing.

"Are you ready?"

"alright."

"Walk."

The sound of a piano began.

"Me and My Motherland..."

The sound flowed out without a trace of impurity.

From beginning to end, there were no pauses, no off-key notes, and the breath control was so perfect it was like breathing.

As the last note faded, Zheng Hui took off his headphones and looked out the glass.

Liu Huan pressed the call button: "Come out, it's over."

"Don't you need to insure one of them?" Zheng Hui asked.

"No need," Liu Huan shook his head. "This take has the best emotion; recording it again would just sound like a mere craftsman."

Liu Huan held the burned DAT tape in his hand as if it were a precious treasure.

He said to Zheng Hui, "Zheng Hui, I don't plan to let you take this tape back to release a single or promote it on the radio."

Zheng Hui was taken aback: "Then what are you doing?"

"Spring Festival Gala organizing committee, I plan to submit your song to this year's Spring Festival Gala."

Zheng Hui's heart skipped a beat.

Spring Festival Gala.

In this era, it's the ultimate stage for creating stars, and the New Year's Eve dinner for all Chinese people. Appearing on the Spring Festival Gala means instant fame, known throughout the world.

"Teacher Liu, is this...okay?"

Liu Huan put the sash in his pocket: "I'm 90% sure. This year is a big year, the 50th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China, and next year is the return of Macao."

Your song, sung by someone from Macau, and with this kind of alteration, it's practically tailor-made for this year's Spring Festival Gala.

Liu Huan patted Zheng Hui on the shoulder: "Stay in Beijing for a few more days and wait for my news."

……

Late at night, at the VIP Building Hotel, after Zheng Hui returned, he first went with Lin Dashan to the standard room where Li Zongming and Lin Dashan were staying.

Li Zongming was sitting on the edge of the bed smoking when he saw Zheng Hui and Lin Dashan come in. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table.

Zheng Hui walked to the window and opened it a crack. A night breeze rushed in, slightly diluting the acrid smoke filling the room.

Li Zongming asked with some concern, "I haven't been able to reach you. Why is your phone always off?"

"There was no signal in the recording studio, so I visited teachers Qin Yongcheng and Zhang Li today and obtained the authorization for 'My People, My Country'."

Li Zongming looked surprised: "You want to cover a revolutionary song?"

"Yes. I spent the afternoon with Teacher Liu Huan and recorded the song."

Li Zongming stood up: "With Liu Huan? All afternoon?"

"right."

"Finished recording?"

"Recording is finished."

"And then?" Li Zongming keenly sensed the hidden meaning in Zheng Hui's words.

Zheng Hui looked at Li Zongming: "Teacher Liu Huan took the tape away."

"Where did you take it?"

"Spring Festival Gala Organizing Committee"

Li Zongming stared at Zheng Hui and asked, "What did you say??"

"The Spring Festival Gala organizing committee," Zheng Hui repeated. "Teacher Liu Huan said he wants to recommend this song to the Spring Festival Gala organizing committee so it can be performed at this year's Spring Festival Gala."

Li Zongming's mouth hung open for a long time. He was a veteran media professional and knew all too well the weight of this matter.

Appearing on CCTV's "Variety Show" is like getting a gilded plating. Appearing on the Spring Festival Gala is like ascending to heaven.

That's full coverage; that's the kind of exposure that everyone from eighty-year-old grandmothers to teenagers can remember.

Li Zongming's voice trembled slightly: "You mean... you have a chance to be on the Spring Festival Gala?"

"Teacher Liu Huan said he was 90% confident."

"Ninety percent...ninety percent..." Li Zongming muttered, "Since Liu Huan dared to say that, there's basically no doubt about it. This is a direct path to the heavens!"

He forced himself to calm down: "If we really get on the Spring Festival Gala, our plans will have to change completely."