Chapter 214: Once Isn’t Enough, Gotta Be Twice
At exactly seven o’clock in the evening, the lights in the concert hall slowly dimmed, and the last trace of conversation disappeared into the air.
Thousands of audience members simultaneously turned their gazes toward the stage that had not yet lit up, as if guided by an invisible hand.
The massive LED screen quietly lit up, displaying the organizer’s carefully designed opening countdown: ten, nine, eight…
Each jump of the numbers resonated with the audience’s heartbeats.
The chat area in the online live broadcast room instantly boiled over, with bullet comments from all over the country flashing across the screen: “Shanghai check-in!” “Chengdu fans reporting in!” “Looking forward to the opening!”
At the center of the stage, a nearly three-meter-high gramophone model slowly rose on the lift platform, with the spotlight precisely hitting the gramophone, its golden horn refracting warm light.
The female singer stood quietly beside the gramophone in an elegant long dress, as if sealed in time—it was Chen Jinyi.
Yu Wei had seen the gramophone model many times during rehearsals, but when it truly rose onto the stage, the impression it gave was completely different.
Nothing was more suitable than the gramophone to represent the nostalgia theme of the first part.
Soon, the first note sounded, the familiar prelude to “Past Can Only Be Savored,” with the music coming from far to near, growing from soft to strong, the familiar yet slightly sad melody like a key quietly opening a tunnel through time.
This 70-year-old song moved not only the audience but also Yu Wei deeply.
When Chen Jinyi opened her mouth to sing “Time passes never to return, past can only be savored,” her voice was not only clear and high-pitched but also carried a sense of aged texture, warm and smooth like freshly heated honey water, gliding over the listeners’ hearts.
An expert reveals their skill with one move; for singers, it’s not just about singing skill—voice is also an extremely important factor, though most people’s vocal conditions are more or less similar.
Aunt Chen’s voice is at the level of a gift from heaven; one can only say it’s no wonder she’s the daughter of two legendary singing masters—her genes are too good.
“How about it, Xiao Chen sings pretty well, right? Score Bro, give her a score.”
Qi Luo An rarely brought up her family background, but at this moment, watching her radiant mom on the screen, she couldn’t help feeling a bit proud—this was her mom, how could she not be proud of her?
“9.8, the original is too classic to surpass.”
While replying to the message, Yu Wei was thinking about something else: this family has such great singing genes, so why did it drop a notch with Qi Luo An and Qi Yuan’s generation?
It couldn’t be that Old Qi’s genes held them back…
He scrolled through the online audience’s bullet comments; netizens’ evaluations of this song were extremely high, like an old cassette tape from memory, instantly pulling people back to those innocent and naive years.
The live broadcast screen on the right side showed the viewer count in real time: 100,000, 150,000, 200,000… the numbers jumped upward, and the bullet comments were so fast they were hard to read.
Chen Jinyi’s singing grew deeper, like murmuring shallow chants of flowing water, beautiful and thought-provoking.
As the final note fell, after a moment of silence, the on-site audience erupted in thunderous applause.
“Aunt Chen’s opening has some real stuff.”
Yu Wei had seen the rehearsal process many times; Chen Jinyi had just sung casually then, but the formal stage was like a different person.
Usually just coasting by with age, but striking hard at key moments—Faker, huh?
As the music faded, the full hall lights instantly brightened; Chen Jinyi deeply bowed to the on-site audience, then turned to wave to the live broadcast camera.
That was just the opening; now came her main job.
“Dear friends on-site, families waiting in front of the screen, good evening!”
Chen Jinyi’s voice spread throughout the venue via the microphone, clear and highly distinctive.
She walked to the gramophone, gently picked up a black vinyl record, and faced the audience: “Tonight, we will divide into four chapters: reminisce, dream, country, home.”
“Each melody is a slice of time, each note a carrier of emotion; let us first step into the first river, back to those yellowed yet warm years.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the stage lights shifted to a warm yellow tone, and the background big screen displayed old street scenes from the last century.
A nostalgia stage couldn’t avoid Chen Ping; he was the true number one person of the old era, so the second song was his work, brought by the tender singer Li Yun with “Yesterday’s Stars.”
Yu Wei had heard this song many times during rehearsals and had nothing much to say about it—it was just an old song he hadn’t heard before.
“Why are you all looking at me?”
Yu Wei was still enjoying the performance when he noticed many guests backstage looking at him intentionally or otherwise.
What was there to see? He had no grudge with Old Senior Chen; in a way, he even had to thank him for disrupting the timeline.
Shen Yutong said nothing, just pointed at his mobile phone; Yu Wei opened it and saw that the netizens had already gone completely wild.
“It’s bad, Yu Wei is about to start exerting himself, bloodline suppression incoming.”
“Not even as good as Yu Wei, just waiting to be thin gauze’d.”
They had stirred up the fight happily, but the netizens’ expectations were raised as a result; soon they’d have to see Yu Wei’s performance no matter what…
Yu Wei didn’t even know what to say—seemingly expectant but actually scrutinizing; would you want this kind of “blessing”?
The nostalgia segment only had four songs, all from famous seniors with exclusive lounges; calling it an immortal fight was no exaggeration.
But when the song title “The Moon Represents My Heart” and performer Meng Han’s words appeared simultaneously in the bottom right corner of the screen, the netizens and Yu Wei shared the same mood.
Audience members who hadn’t seen the program list even suspected they misread it: Teacher Meng, with his thick eyebrows and big eyes, singing this song?
But contrary to everyone’s expectations, Meng Han abandoned his usual roaring singing method and rarely showed his “rock-style tenderness,” with an unexpected gentleness shining through his hardcore voice.
When Meng Han sang “You ask how deep my love for you is,” each word was weathered by storms, with rich emotion pouring out, actually making netizens gradually forget the original singer.
Teacher Meng has won and lost but never been lackluster; turning a dainty bird-dependent song into something so deeply affectionate, soul-stirring, and magnificent—his musical talent is jaw-dropping.
A couple of days ago, Yu Wei had actually asked Teacher Meng why he chose this song, and his answer turned out to be related to Yu Wei himself.
He felt that the AI version of “Invisible Wings” was very popular, so why not really sing a gentle song—meme-worthy while also connecting with the young people.
One could only say Teacher Meng could still play around and was sufficiently fan-pampering.
Though it had some gimmick vibes, he successfully conquered the audience with his strength; this level of classic reconstruction could be called creating new glory—listening to it enough really gets you swayed.
As the finale of the first part, Teacher Meng’s performance was undoubtedly very successful; named nostalgia but actually incorporating a footnote of the new era—this was absolutely what the higher-ups wanted most to see.
Watching the live broadcast room full of praise, Yu Wei gradually understood why Teacher Meng was so full of expectation for the concert.
Unlike the small-scale antics of variety shows, this was a true martial world conference, full of masters.
Even a host singing casually could hold up half the sky; the pressure from the singers would only be greater.
With the arrival of the second part, Yu Wei and Shen Yutong also began to brace themselves—it was almost their turn.
“I’ll go wait in the wings first.”
Shen Yutong’s turn was a bit earlier than Yu Wei’s, with three people in between; for her, this should be a good thing—following Yu Wei’s rescue performance, who knows who would shine.
The competition in the second group was relatively okay, with only one senior singing; Shen Yutong could handle the other young singers with ease.
If Lin Puyan hadn’t jumped to this group, the competition would have been intense, but unfortunately he slipped away fast…
“Yutong, fighting.”
“I’ll carry the flag for Yutong.”
Seeing it was almost time for her best friend to take the stage, Qi Luo An was extremely active, sending several messages in a row to cheer her on.
No rationality, all emotion—she was most looking forward to their three’s four songs tonight.
Even before Shen Yutong’s performance began, the audience could sense something off from the changes in stage effect.
Compared to others’ bright and lively stages, her song was a bit too dark; the cold white light even felt somewhat oppressive.
When the weeping prelude came from the piano keys she touched, netizens instantly realized this song was different from the others at the concert.
Shen Yutong wasn’t trying to cater to the organizer’s theme; she just wanted to express herself on stage—after seeing Yu Wei’s “Malice,” she came up with this somewhat dark song.
But her originality instead won over many audience members; today’s netizens are rebellious at heart.
Galas are always about truth, goodness, and beauty; occasionally venting is nice too…
The stage lights changed with the song’s emotion, from cold blue to dark red, as if symbolizing the spread of malice in the human heart.
Regardless of what the officials thought, the online and on-site audience were thrilled; playing such a crazy song on a bright and open stage—must follow!
However, in the final part, her singing style suddenly softened, and the lights turned to warm yellow.
The song ended in reflection and salvation, finally aligning with the concert’s style.
This was also Shen Yutong’s answer after finishing that book: malice exists, but she still chooses to be a spreader of goodwill.
Amid thunderous applause, Yu Wei also entered the waiting in the wings area; with everyone performing so brilliantly, he had to give his all too.
Tonight, he’d reluctantly try opening up to full power…
“Yu Wei is finally coming, huh? Can’t wait.”
“I really want to hear red sun.”
“Don’t rush, there are still two songs.”
The netizens, stirred up by the earlier provocations, were a bit impatient, but unfortunately, next up was Song Shu.
Her singing wasn’t bad, but the electronic sound was heavy; every line didn’t sound like a real person singing—more AI than AI.
The song was a good one, but her rendition lost all the inspirational feel, especially under the contrast of the previous god-tier stages—she flopped hard.
Actually, compared to her rehearsal performance, she was already pretty decent; who even invited this one—Sister Nan isn’t stronger?
Her stage dragged down the average impression of the second part instantly; the VIP seats furrowed their brows—this positive energy part was way too off.
One sad song could be artistic pursuit, but failing to uplift when it should be positive—what’s that about?
Actually, in the higher-ups’ plan, the positive energy part was the key to the concert: nostalgia as the lead-in, the main melody as rise to prominence, reunion as extension, and inspirational as the gala’s foundation.
As long as it rises upward, even if the other three parts weren’t well done, the gala would pass; now, without a solid foundation, how to rise?
In the main control room, Wang Qi had been watching the situation; seeing these people displeased, he panicked—Old Senior Lin would misunderstand him…
If Lin Puyan hadn’t switched sections, this part could have held up; who could’ve thought he’d inexplicably switch away.
He couldn’t help looking toward Yu Wei, who was meditating with eyes closed in the waiting in the wings area—now it all depended on whether he could turn the situation around.
He thought his two-song rescue performance was the key, but now even the first song relied on Yu Wei—what a mess.
One burst of effort wasn’t enough—needed two…
