Chapter 66: New Mage In The Music Scene
“By the way, you won’t lock the school gate at night during summer vacation, right?”
The program was halfway through broadcasting when Yu Wei hurriedly asked one more question. Chao Yue Ban airs at eight o’clock and ends around nine forty, which is already quite late.
He certainly didn’t want any melodramatic plot like “oh no, the school gate is closed, forced to stay overnight.” With a stranger at home, he wouldn’t dare sleep too soundly…
“No, even if they lock it, it’s around midnight.”
Qi Luo An glared at him irritably, clearly having guessed Yu Wei’s idea. Come on, she’s not some casual person, okay.
This plot seemed a bit clichéd. It would be better to go out and run into a downpour, get completely soaked, then run back, and while taking a shower, have no clothes to change into the male lead’s…
Her reading experience wasn’t short; she’d seen this kind of bridge plenty of times, and idol dramas were full of it.
The photographer was used to their spontaneous interaction style, filming it of course, but they didn’t know how many lines would be usable later.
In the program, Yu Wei was already preparing for the audition at the set of The Person Who Plants Stars. The audience couldn’t help but have some expectation: Yu Wei was so good at script revision—would he possibly revise his own role later?
Revising wherever he goes—Drama Tyrant confirmed!
But Yu Wei’s next move was somewhat unexpected. He didn’t change a single word of the plot but instead gave a new interpretation of the male lead based on his own understanding.
He could convince Lin Yi in the program, but with so many viewers after broadcast, Yu Wei’s words clearly wouldn’t convince everyone.
One thousand readers have one thousand Hamlets. Yu Wei’s understanding of the role was fine, but others who didn’t agree had their own reasons.
Discussions about this quickly topped the trending search, but everyone wasn’t targeting Yu Wei—it was purely discussing “which is more important, understanding the role or performing the role?”
“Yuan Fang, what do you think?”
“Me?” Qi Luo An frowned slightly, then quickly gave her answer. “I think if you have acting skills, understanding is important; if you don’t have acting skills, acting skills are important.”
Her words were very objective. Even though she was close to Yu Wei, she acknowledged his role understanding, but if it came to actually acting, acting skills came first.
Talking grandly about understanding without any skills—wouldn’t that just be armchair strategizing?
However, Qi Luo An could also understand why Lin Yi chose Yu Wei. Acting skills could be practiced, but insight varied by person. Compared to the short week of program recording, what Lin Yi valued more was actually the future.
Qi Luo An’s view aligned with the mainstream public opinion online. They thought Yu Wei passed the sea selection by being clever; if it were any other mentor or script, he wouldn’t perform as well as Qi Xi…
Qi Luo An didn’t agree with the second half. If it were the blind person script, Yu Wei could crush that kid, since she’d seen it with her own eyes on the filming site.
“Right, we passed the sea selection for the microfilm competition. Weekend enters the publicity period.”
Previously, the microfilm competition results were posted on the official website with almost no attention. Later, the organizer got smart and posted compilations on various platforms for interested netizens to check themselves.
Microfilm?
The photographers exchanged glances, as if they’d heard something incredible. Yu Wei had secretly shot a microfilm without any news leaking.
Passing sea selection meant it had some substance; they definitely had to pay attention later.
The second half of Chao Yue Ban entered a hectic filming period, switching lenses between four sets, piecing things together without much highlight. Yu Wei simply pulled out his mobile phone, wanting to personally check the netizens’ evaluation of him.
“Don’t call Qi Xi the emperor anymore. An airborne zero-acting-skills guest like Yu Wei can snatch his role—where’s the emperor?”
“No pulling down, no pulling down. I’m a Yu Wei fan; Qi Xi acted very well. Maybe Teacher Lin Yi just prefers strong role understanding.”
“So you mean Qi Xi’s role understanding isn’t strong?”
Internet arguments emphasize suppression. Trying to play peacemaker easily gets you hung up and beaten by the opposite side. There’s no right or wrong; it’s all about who has the louder voice.
Given his and Qi Xi’s sizes, this wave was actually the other side riding his coattails. On one hand, to muddy the waters and shed the heir apparent title; on the other, to claim moral high ground by saying he snatched the role.
That doesn’t make sense. Heir apparent struggles have always been like this—could he blame himself for not securing the role?
“You okay? Don’t take it to heart.”
Normally, Qi Luo An would gleefully watch the drama at a time like this, but since Yu Wei was the one catching fire this time, even she couldn’t enjoy it despite her carefree nature.
“Dao Heart Shattered, needs comfort.”
Hearing this, Qi Luo An knew it was nothing serious. In the early novel stages with so many bad reviews, he didn’t even delete posts—clearly, he had strong pressure resistance.
“Then comfort yourself.”
Worried for nothing…
Afraid of being scolded as a public figure? Stars get scolded no matter what. The real entertainment industry is like that—regardless of your works or status, people scold if they want.
Being a star is actually no different from writing novels; the path to fame is a process of screening audience. Some people are just not your dish—no need to worry about gains and losses.
After more than twenty minutes of arguing, Chao Yue Ban finally entered the final performance segment. The spy drama’s laugh-inducing performance led the charge, directly causing full-screen question marks in the bullet comments.
“Spoke too soon—Yu Wei is still stronger than them.”
“Yu Wei was a newbie anyway. Shouldn’t these program regulars who studied acting for five or six years without a representative work reflect more?”
“This variety show heir apparent who never competed as a newcomer actor cracked me up.”
Public opinion shifts so fast. The program regulars’ one drama directly whitewashed Yu Wei for him. He’s just a singer who wasn’t good enough—not unwatchably bad.
A bunch of professionals only at this level—why bother sarcastically targeting the newbie?
Besides, is Qi Xi’s acting that good? No, it just looks passable in the program; fans like pulling others down everywhere.
Getting upstaged by Yu Wei this time, fans jumping is inevitable.
“The so-called heir apparent is never officially crowned. Whichever house’s servants jump the most—that’s the heir apparent.”
Qi Luo An’s complaint hit the nail on the head; Yu Wei deeply agreed, but with the photographer filming nearby, he couldn’t continue the deep chat.
Program heir apparent—heaven’s will is one aspect, public opinion another. If the program team promotes the right person, netizens won’t say anything.
Qi Xi’s palace drama performance perfectly proved this. His acting wasn’t as good as fans hyped; a youth emperor needs arrogance, not impotent rage.
But getting Qi Xi’s fans to face reality was impossible. They’d just blame Yu Wei for their brother’s failure…
If their Qi Xi acted in The Person Who Plants Stars, his performance would definitely be better!
By the time it was Yu Wei’s set’s turn, the discussion environment for this episode was already total chaos—haters, netizens, fans, filial sons arguing into a mess; even bystanders couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“Normal. The hotter the program, the fiercer the arguments. No arguments means the program’s dead.”
Qi Luo An knew this well. Chao Yue Ban steadily held top three in popular variety shows; controversy was inevitable. Compared to what netizens chatted about, she cared more about Yu Wei’s performance and that song he was hiding.
Yu Wei’s performance was mediocre, but discerning eyes could see he’d improved a lot compared to sea selection day. They thought he was just here to play, but he actually had some talent.
Netizens busy arguing typed with increasingly urgent rhythm until a wisp of melody drifted from the screen.
At first, just a few scattered notes, slowly seeping like water droplets, but soon, a tender child’s voice brushed the air, making everyone’s tense emotions tremble.
“A tiny little cloud, slowly drifting over…” The singing wrapped in the moist breath of mountain flowers, carrying the cool rhythm of sea waves, inching over feverish nerves.
This song is wrong!
By the time everyone noticed something off, it was too late. The imagined salty sea breeze swept away the hostility; keyboard sounds receded like ebbing tide, leaving only waves blooming layer by layer in the melody.
“The waves on the sea bloom, and that’s when I come to the seaside…” The lyrics’ azure scenes unfolded in the darkness, as if fine sand was trickling from clenched finger gaps.
This song is toxic—directly triggering a lantern show. Can a children’s song really awaken true goodness and beauty?
Yu Wei’s song had such a strong sense of era; these days, few singers could write such retro songs. They’d gone too long without hearing such simple, gentle melodies.
On this night full of turmoil, Yu Wei’s Treading Waves without a doubt sang right onto their hearts.
“Netizens plan to crown you Music Sorcerer.”
“Hm?”
Doesn’t the music scene have a sorcerer already? He wouldn’t dare snatch that title.
“Not that kind of spell-casting sorcerer. Netizens feel this song really has magic—listening purifies you, not just calming but even a bit sad.”
Thanks to this song’s god-level score adaptation, The Person Who Plants Stars directly topped best of the show. Prior debates were self-evident—besides Yu Wei, could anyone else do this?
Do you get our new Music Sorcerer’s gold content? Acting skills lacking, atmosphere makes up for it—this is true music magic.
“Then don’t call me sorcerer. If anything, call me Music Pastor—pastors really do purify.”
Such an awesome title as sorcerer—wasn’t for him to touch.
