Chapter 202: With This, The Art Is Complete
There’s a fourth stage too?
This was something Meng Han hadn’t expected. Although he felt the impression of the three stages was average, for this song, dividing it into three stages definitely carried better meaning.
The song’s three parts respectively represent yesterday, today, and tomorrow, progressing layer by layer and ascending step by step; the structure is already quite complete.
So what does this fourth part represent?
Just as he was puzzling over it, the music slowly advanced, and a new voice cut in perfectly timed, starting the final round of singing.
The moment the newly joined singer opened her mouth, Meng Han felt as if struck by lightning, because this voice was too familiar to him—it was his good-for-nothing son…
“Gently knock and awaken the sleeping soul
Slowly open your eyes.”
Meng Lei’s voice was lazy and sung somewhat casually, each word carrying a slight tremor, truly like a song recorded right after waking up.
Because his popularity isn’t high, everyone momentarily failed to realize the severity of the problem. The voice that followed right after drew sidelong glances from the audience the moment it started.
“See if the busy world is still
Lonely and spinning endlessly.”
This voice was fresh in memory for everyone, because she had just sung on stage earlier. Chi Leying’s voice was much gentler than during Youth.
But when she sang the words “lonely,” a faint sadness flowed from her voice, still turning firm at the ending note.
Different singing methods but the same core timbre; her personal style was very obvious.
Hearing this, the audience finally understood: Yu Wei had really gathered a group of stars to sing this song. Although it was pre-recorded, the sincerity was full.
So what else was there to say? Everyone just listened.
“The spring breeze doesn’t understand romance
Stirring the youth’s heart.”
A clear and bright voice line steadily took over. He sang “youth” full of hope, each note leaping with vitality.
This one’s singing skill was much stronger than the previous two. Just this one line firmly seized everyone’s ears. Among the younger generation, there was still such a talented person—who’s underling was this?
Some people in the audience recognized it: this was Qi Yuan. He was incomparable to his former self now; singing just two simple lines was naturally effortless.
“Tsk tsk tsk.”
Qi Luo An completely hadn’t expected to hear her big bro singing in such a situation, but maybe because he wasn’t on-site, it actually sounded pretty comfortable.
They get on each other’s nerves when seeing each other, but it’s fine when not seeing.
However, what surprised her most was that Yu Wei had really found “stars” to sing; they weren’t fictional characters from a novel, but real, living stars.
Although the form was simple, the audiovisual experience it brought was still shocking. After all, these people are rarely gathered together normally, let alone singing the same song.
Once the audience knew what Yu Wei wanted to do, the nature of this song changed, turning into a guess-the-singer segment.
Who knows who else Yu Wei actually found…
“Let the tear stains on yesterday’s face
Dry up with the winds of memory.”
The female singer following right after Qi Yuan was crisp from the first note, her voice delicate yet penetrating, easily turning yesterday’s sadness into relief.
The first half of the line was full of narrative sense, while the second half grew softer, as if the tears were really dissipating in the wind.
Just two simple lines embodied technique and emotion to the fullest, plus her fresh and bright timbre—it was so good that the audience didn’t want to see a switch.
Who is this?
No exaggeration: she not only perfectly caught Qi Yuan’s show off skills, but even surpassed it.
Qi Luo An woodenly turned her head, fixing her gaze on Shen Yutong who was pretending nothing was happening. Others might not recognize it, but could she not?
This singing method and voice—besides Shen Yutong, who else could it be? Her best friend had pre-recorded for Yu Wei, and she was completely unaware…
“You didn’t tell me about this?”
If she’d known earlier that Yu Wei was prepared, she wouldn’t have been so nervous. Just now listening to the civilian guest sing, besides her ears suffering torment, Qi Luo An was truly afraid Yu Wei’s song would be ruined.
No wonder she, who is usually so invested in listening to music, was so calm today and didn’t analyze Yu Wei’s song style—it turned out she knew already.
“You didn’t ask either.”
Fine, Shen Yutong had deliberately not said. A few days ago for Peach Blossom Promise, she’d been badly teased by Qi Luo An, so of course she’d seize the opportunity to get back at her.
Mutual harm is the core of best friends.
Additionally, she didn’t know much either; she had just casually recorded two lines upon invitation and had no idea about the song’s specific content.
The other singers were similar, each only responsible for their own few lines. Anyway, they didn’t know the full picture, so just sing the part in front of them well.
Yu Wei did this on purpose—not treating them as outsiders, but focusing only on their own two lines made their personal styles even more obvious when sung.
That’s exactly the effect he wanted. Stars chorus—if mixed together, it wouldn’t be beautiful; each with their own characteristics is when stars shine.
Listening to one familiar voice after another coming from the stage, Qi Luo An suddenly felt a bit sour. Yu Wei found so many people—why didn’t he find her?
She was confident her singing skill was better than Tong Yulu and Zhou Mumu’s. Even they were invited but not her—how could she feel okay about that?
It couldn’t be that he forgot either. He found her big bro and best friend but not her—targeted, nakedly targeted…
“Why didn’t he find me? Am I not worthy?”
Qi Luo An muttered a couple lines, full of resentment.
She wanted to help Yu Wei too. Everyone else was teaming up while she was just goofing around—this feeling was truly subtle.
She was the outsider now.
“Maybe because you’re not a star?”
“?”
Qi Luo An was actually speechless. It seemed true— he wanted stars, and she wasn’t a star now.
Well then, nothing to worry about. Yu Wei was surprisingly rigorous.
The stars chorus on stage had entered its finale. After going around, the ball was passed back to Yu Wei, but this time he didn’t mess around; instead, he sang to the end with utmost investment.
From the hoarse and mocking opening to the bright child voice transition, Yu Wei’s perfect performance was still not the end, but led into the final chorus.
Looking back, the entire performance could even be described as majestic and vast.
Tomorrow Will Be Better—what exactly is “better”?
If this song only stopped at the perfection of the third part, then “tomorrow” would become a vague slogan, and a better tomorrow just empty pie in the sky.
Yu Wei didn’t want this song to stay only at the inspirational level; it shouldn’t just be chicken soup calling “good days are still ahead.”
Just like his last lesson to the children—preaching was meaningless.
So he arranged this final part with the distinctive chorus. Good or bad, sing yourself, be yourself—that’s always right.
“Sing out your passion
Reach out your hands
Let me embrace your dream
Let me have your true face.”
The audience could clearly feel that Yu Wei’s singing method had changed, as if instantly losing all technique and emotion, leaving only the purest singing.
They couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different, but this sincerity with nothing else still clearly reached their hearts.
Qi Luo An was all too familiar with this feeling. Before on the phone, his singing method was just like now—simple and plain, yet with an indescribable magic.
Because this was also Yu Wei being himself.
Do not impose on others what you do not desire. Him using his true level to complete the song’s final lines was the most crucial stroke of Tomorrow Will Be Better.
Although his level now was average, he believed he could sing better in the future.
Tomorrow Will Be Better isn’t just the concept of “tomorrow” getting better—becoming happier tomorrow, healthier tomorrow, is also getting better.
“Let our smiles
Fill with the pride of youth
Let us expect tomorrow will be better.”
The last line Yu Wei sang extremely slowly, word by word without any artistic processing, but this wish was etched into every listener’s heart.
Not a promised utopia, but a shared life force with you.
After the last lyrics ended, Yu Wei didn’t bow immediately, but seriously felt this stage.
Singing on stage relying on himself—this feeling was rare and worth savoring again.
The silence didn’t last long; a heavy clap suddenly rang out, seeming a bit eager.
Everyone on-site looked toward the sound and saw Meng Han had stood up at some point, generously offering his applause.
This time it wasn’t just jaw-dropping; this time he only wanted to say: At this point, it has become art!
The song itself was of very high quality, plus the entire progressively layered performance—stage by stage, scene by scene. Listening completely didn’t feel shocking, but moving.
There was even a thought of “I was born just to see this performance.”
If Yu Wei had ended at the third stage as he thought, this performance could only be described as excellent, but with the fourth stage it was even more perfect.
This was a god-tier stage in Meng Han’s mind, even more god-like than the “century battle.” The century battle only beat Chen Ping, but this one Yu Wei achieved self-transcendence.
Meng Han jolted, a bit scared by his own thought—what did “only beat Chen Ping” mean…
It seemed in his heart, he already recognized the one before him more.
Chi Leying and Su Xinnan reacted quickly and stood up promptly. Teacher Meng had stood, so it wasn’t appropriate for them not to; Yu Wei’s this performance deserved a full standing ovation.
Led by the three guests, many audience members below also stood up accordingly. Applause was late but arrived, leaving Yu Wei in a daze.
It felt like if he collapsed from exhaustion and burned out on the spot right now, he’d absolutely become a new legend…
Unfortunately, he wanted to live.
Only then did Yu Wei bow and exit the stage, incidentally giving Tian Jun a thumbs up—not praising his singing, but his mentality.
On such a big stage, knowing his singing was bad yet not getting stage fright, even enjoying it a bit at the end—this mentality was indeed good.
Tian Jun awkwardly scratched his head. How to put it? Originally he was a bit embarrassed, but discovering everyone was grimacing at the bad singing actually made him let loose a bit.
Since it was like this, better leave them some shadow.
Could only say Yu Wei’s readers all had a bit of mischievous taste—even a serious teacher had a sneaky bad heart.
The program team was very satisfied with Yu Wei’s performance. He not only caught it, but left an even more gorgeous ending—super completing the task.
This performance was enough to go down in music variety show history as legendary. If their program had a second season, they definitely had to buy Tomorrow Will Be Better as the theme song.
After the program recording ended, except for Su Xinnan slowly packing up, Yu Wei and the others didn’t dare linger—they still had to “go to the capital for the exam.”
Really envied Sister Nan, able to take a break…
Yu Wei wasn’t being sarcasm; he truly envied. Afternoon plane ticket, rehearsal starting tomorrow, concert with a bunch of stars definitely unavoidable socializing—could imagine how busy it’d be.
But the benefit was, going around then could collect quite a bit of material—one by one, all come work in the Soul Refining Banner!
When he went out, he looked around and sure enough spotted Qi Luo An in the corner, though Shen Yutong and Sakuraya Rio weren’t with her—probably left early.
“Say, why didn’t you find me to record? Just because I’m not a star?”
Qi Luo An eagerly asked the question in her heart. She was at least a high-fee card—did he want to gather the stars bond that badly?
She’d been a child star too, at least could bring a job-change emblem…
“Of course not.”
Yu Wei really hadn’t thought that way. He didn’t find Qi Luo An naturally for other reasons. “Guess why I only had them record two lines?”
Qi Luo An was stunned upon hearing this. Wasn’t it because one person two lines gave more of a stars shining feeling?
And that didn’t seem related to not asking her for help…
“Because stars charge copyright fees for three lines; I wanted free of charge.”
“They are stars; free of charge feels more rewarding.”
