Chapter 3: A Song of the Eastern Wind-Rising to Stardom with a Song(Xiong Wuwan)

Zhang Yingjing, thirty-four years old, is a top-tier female singer with a commanding stage presence. Standing at 168 centimeters, her slender waist, long legs, and generous curves are the envy of many. Her social media following has surpassed fifteen million, making her the most popular mentor among today's panel.

Today, she wore a figure-hugging black dress with a cinched waist, accentuating the dramatic contrast between her bust and waist. Seated at the mentor's table, she crossed her legs casually, revealing her white, well-proportioned ankles, the tips of her toes nestled in gleaming silver high heels.

Her participation in this show was driven by the hope of discovering talented singer-songwriters; after all, those capable of composing great songs are exceedingly rare. The few gold-standard producers are revered in their companies like emperors; even the biggest stars must greet them with deference.

Thus, she approached the show with considerable enthusiasm, but now she realized she had been too naive. The songs composed by the contestants so far were each worse than the last, even after an initial screening. She had hoped that, among the first ten contestants, at least one would present a song worth listening to. Yet, not a single one did. The two who had just advanced received a C rating from her; not one had passed her standards.

At this moment, Jiang Yiyan glanced at the information in her hands and asked, "According to your profile, you're a student at Tsinghua-Peking University?"

Upon hearing this, Wei Ping and Wang Yihan both showed surprise. Even Zhang Yingjing, who had been looking down, lifted her gaze to Xu Ze.

It was no wonder; students from the country's top university were extraordinarily rare.

"As far as I know, Tsinghua-Peking doesn't have a music department, does it?" Wei Ping asked, stroking his chin.

"That's right," Xu Ze nodded. "I'm majoring in Chinese Language and Literature."

"So you haven't studied music?" Wang Yihan seemed to seize on a point of attack, his tone tinged with sarcasm. So what if you went to Tsinghua-Peking? This is a music show, not an academic contest.

Indeed, Wang Yihan himself was only a graduate of vocational school. Yet, that hadn't stopped him from becoming a popular idol.

"No, I haven't," Xu Ze nodded. In this life, he really hadn't studied music.

At that moment, Jiang Yiyan's eyes sparkled as she looked at Xu Ze—a student from Tsinghua-Peking, so handsome, and his manner of speaking was so cool. She had made up her mind: even if Xu Ze's song was mediocre, she would give him a B rating!

Wei Ping picked up the microphone, smiling as he said, "You may begin your performance."

Upon hearing this, Xu Ze took out the Voice Fruit, made a wiping motion across his lips, and popped it into his mouth. He took a deep breath, calming himself, then nodded to the director.

The stage lights shifted, and his work details appeared on the screen behind him.

"Title: 'East Wind Breaks'"
"Lyricist: Xu Ze"
"Composer: Xu Ze"
"Performer: Xu Ze"

This Chinese-style masterpiece by Jay Chou was the true pioneering song of popular Chinese fusion, holding a prestigious place in the Mandarin music world.

Since the system task required him to sing a Chinese-style song, Xu Ze immediately thought of this one. He felt a hint of excitement—it was his first time performing on stage as a singer. Though there wasn't a massive live audience, when the lights came on, the sense of the stage belonging to him—the sole focus of everyone—sent his every cell into a rush of exhilaration.

The prelude began—a graceful piano melody.

"Beautiful!" Just hearing the intro, mentor Wei Ping internally gave his verdict. From the feeling alone, the song promised to be quite good.

Wang Yihan, the idol, heard nothing special—just a simple piano introduction. So much for Tsinghua-Peking, he thought.

Meanwhile, Jiang Yiyan, from Times Girls, widened her eyes. She was no mere traffic-driven celebrity like Wang Yihan. Within her group, she was the only singer-songwriter; two tracks from their debut album were co-produced by her. She possessed genuine musical discernment, and from the prelude alone, Xu Ze's work already outshone anything her company’s juniors had composed. Truly a genius—brilliant in music as well!

The prelude ended, and Xu Ze's deep, melodious voice flowed forth.

“A lonely lamp of sorrow stands at the window,
I stand behind the door, pretending you’ve not left yet,
Old places revisited, the full moon makes the loneliness deeper,
The midnight candle, awake, cannot bear to chastise me.”

Xu Ze’s elegant singing drifted through the studio, the beautiful lyrics of longing swirling around everyone’s ears.

“Ancient style?” Wei Ping, still absorbed in the intro, was now astonished by the lyrics. Writing good ancient-style lyrics is extremely difficult; he admits he could never craft them. Yet Xu Ze’s words, rich in atmosphere, brought a touch of brilliance—what a lonely lamp of sorrow.

Wang Yihan listened to the ornate lyrics, perplexed; he couldn’t understand why someone would compose such slow, melancholy songs. He preferred rap and energetic tunes. However, on camera, he maintained a look of attentiveness—he knew his expressions were being recorded.

Beside him, Jiang Yiyan’s mouth was agape; the song’s accompaniment shifted from piano to drums and pipa with Xu Ze’s first lyrics. The crisp rhythm, paired with the traditional pipa, was unexpectedly soothing.

Zhang Yingjing, too, was quietly surprised. She immediately recognized this as a new category of pop—derived from ancient style, not traditional singing, but blended with modern R&B. Her anticipation for the rest of the song grew.

On stage, Xu Ze was fully immersed.

“A jug of wandering, drifting through the world, hard to swallow,
After you left, the wine warmed memories, and longing grew thin,
Water flows east and time slips away,
Flowers bloom only once, and I missed it.”

The drumbeats faded from the accompaniment, as the song entered a small climax—a solo, soaring pipa melody.

“Who plays a tune of East Wind Breaks on the pipa?
Time peels away on the wall, revealing childhood,
Still remember that year when we were so young,
And now, the distant sound of the zither—my waiting, you never heard.”

“Brilliant! The lyrics are brilliant!” Wei Ping marveled. Every line struck a chord, the longing, sorrow, and nostalgia weaving a tunnel through time, returning him to his youth—the most cherished era. The subtle sense of loss, the helplessness as time slips away, all expressed perfectly.

Jiang Yiyan was still reeling from that sudden, soaring pipa passage. When it played, goosebumps prickled across her skin—the pipa was simply exquisite.

Beside her, Zhang Yingjing nodded. The transition to the chorus and the lyrics’ perfect fusion with the accompaniment elevated the song’s quality once more. She suddenly recalled that this gentle young man hadn’t studied music—could this be genius?

Xu Ze continued singing.

“Maple leaves dye the story, I see through the ending,
On the old path beyond the fence, I held your hand,
In years of wild grass and mist, even goodbyes were silent.”

At this point, the first half of the song concluded, ushering in the legendary erhu section. For over twenty seconds, drums and erhu blended in a seamless fusion.

Hearing the lingering, sharply rhythmic erhu, everyone’s mind echoed with a single question:

“Who knew the erhu could sound so beautiful?”

As the song moved into its second half, the pipa accompaniment grew even more pronounced, more passionate. All the studio staff found themselves unconsciously absorbed. One cameraman almost missed the director’s cue, forgetting to switch angles.

Finally, the song faded out amid the graceful strains of the erhu. A subtle charm lingered in the studio, refusing to dissipate.