Chapter 241 – 178 Another Round of Bombshells, A Lyricist Who Can’t Do Stage Design Isn’t a Good Lyricist_2
The cara followed from behind, guessing that these images would probably not be used later on.
“The result is just like this, life is full of surprises. Get ready to go on stage,” Xu Qingyan said in a tone so light, it was hard to tell if it was casual or feigned nonchalance.
Wen Shuanghua sighed, “She sang really well, and the song is well written too.”
“Thank you.”
Xu Qingyan caught a glimpse of the door opening out of the corner of his eye, and turning his head, he saw Pei Muchan with a numb expression on her face. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk with Wen Shuanghua any longer and hurried over to greet her.
“Hi there, Sister Wen,” Pei Muchan forced a smile, putting on a show for business.
“Right, you sang very well,” Wen Shuanghua encouraged.
The two groups passed by each other. Wen Shuanghua needed to prepare again and adjust her state before going on stage, giving them a final glance as she left.
Xu Qingyan and Pei Muchan walked back side by side, whispering sothing to each other. Their deanor was natural, their relationship held a vague intimacy, yet they didn’t seem quite like boyfriend and girlfriend.
Wen Shuanghua cast her eyes down, a flash of envy in her gaze. Ambiguity was sweeter than romance, with the potential for anything to happen at any ti, never dulled by the trivialities.
In a person’s lifeti, the depth of ambiguity experienced deeply would likely not surpass three tis. After that ca blandness, facing only repeated coy approaches.
At this mont, in Wen Shuanghua’s eyes, the “perfect for shipping” singer and songwriting CP were oblivious as they chatted quietly, making their way toward the resting room.
Though it was already certain they would be eliminated, they couldn’t leave just yet.
“I shouldn’t have co here, they really…” Pei Muchan’s voice was low, revealing so despair.
“Vote manipulation is a kind of honor, but they clearly overdid it,” Xu Qingyan said with a soft chuckle, “You sang too well this ti, so much that their vote control was too aggressive.”
“What do you an?”
“If the crew wasn’t in such a rush, they would just need to deduct twenty votes from you,” Xu Qingyan patiently analyzed, “But you are currently at the bottom. They deducted too many; there are fluctuations.”
Pei Muchan pondered for a mont and sighed.
“That’s still wrong, it wouldn’t surpass Teacher Hou.”
“It definitely surpassed him, I think it might be around seven hundred and forty votes,” Xu Qingyan said offhandedly, whether it was true or not, it wasn’t possible to verify now.
Pei Muchan: “….”
The two returned to the resting room, and Pei Muchan bowed her head, playing with her phone to calm her emotions. On the screen, Wen Shuanghua had already taken the stage, bringing an English song.
Xu Qingyan didn’t reply to Lin Wanzhou again; she was about to go on stage, and there was no need to affect her mood.
Before long, Wen Shuanghua finished singing, and in the end, she received more than six hundred and forty votes. The outco was obvious now; Pei Muchan’s result was almost the last place.
He glanced at the ti; it was already eleven o’clock at night, too late for the last night flight. After the recording today was finished, they would probably return to Xinghai tomorrow.
In the guest assembly hall, several guests exchanged glances. Normally, after singing, the guests would co to the assembly hall. But Pei Muchan hadn’t shown up, not only was she absent, but she hadn’t even sent a ssage.
Thinking back to the voting where the numbers had stalled at over four hundred, each guest in the room had their thoughts; the crew’s actions were a bit rough.
“Didn’t Sister Pei co over?” Jiang Jingsheng asked tentatively.
With that remark, everyone beca sowhat embarrassed.
Whom was the crew favoring so much as to fix the votes, if not evident to Jiang Jingsheng? Quite frankly, everyone present could see that there was sothing fishy with the votes.
But after editing, the crew could entirely cut out the hesitation, and the audience would know nothing. At most, they would comnt that Pei Muchan had an unusually low number of votes.
Once the show was aired, public opinion was much more controllable than on-site voting numbers. The crew couldn’t afford to offend Lin Wanzhou’s backer, Wen Yun, but could they really not afford to offend Pei Muchan?
She didn’t even have a company, just a small broken studio—what was that worth?
To say she was at their rcy might be too much, but even if she faced injustice, she couldn’t outmuscle the bigger players. That was the industry’s unwritten rule; if you’re not famous enough, you follow the script.
Producing a show is all for the sake of ratings; the people in the production team need to eat too.
No one in the guest assembly hall responded to Jiang Jingsheng’s remarks; it was clearly inappropriate to join the conversation at this ti. As for how the production team would edit the segnt later, that was their business.
There was an awkward mont on site, and Jiang Jingsheng could only cough and say,
“Maybe Sister Pei isn’t feeling well, it’s fine.”
The ones present were none other than Hou Xueheng, diva Zhang Yuqi, and the King of Sentintal Songs, Wang Yu. Any one of them picked out would be a senior figure in the Chinese music scene.
To not respond to Jiang Jingsheng was a matter of self-preservation; no one wanted to invite unnecessary trouble just to save face for a newcor, and Jiang Jingsheng, embarrassed as he was, didn’t dare bla the seniors.
At this mont, Mrs. Wen pushed open the door and gracefully walked toward the assembly hall.
She glanced over everyone but didn’t see Pei Muchan, and a flash of surprise crossed her eyes. Yet, when the cara swept over, she managed a bitter smile.
“It’s over for , this is the last episode,” she said.
“It’s okay, Sister Wen, I really love that song of yours,” Jiang Jingsheng initiated conversation, easing the awkwardness, “especially that line ’I think…’”
“Really?” Mrs. Wen smiled but thought to herself that Pei Muchan was also being too bold.
Xu Qingyan… Just who is he? Last ti, he wrote “Fleetingly Beautiful Years” and “Late Marriage,” two songs with vastly different scopes, with “Late Marriage” feeling like it pierced straight into a woman’s heart.
Now he’s infused the story of traditional opera into “Riding a White Horse,” bringing more and more surprises. Although a bit aloof in attitude, that was understandable.
After all, he was young, stood tall and elegant like an orchid or a jade tree, smiled like the moon embracing the sky. Handso and talented, with not one but two budding divas circling around him.
A hall of gold and jade, just returned from youth, as picturesque as a flowery scene. Blessed with good looks, wealth, talents, and ambition, he lacked nothing. Even if he was a bit wild, it was understandable.
In comparison, the handso and talented Jiang Jingsheng in front of her, who could have been an idol but chose to be a singer with real abilities, was just different.
But people are not all alike, just as products differ when compared. Once you compare, even the best things seem bland, and the handso young man becos nothing but a pretty shell.
It seed it was finally the last singer’s turn to perform, and the female host’s voice carried a sense of liberating excitent as she spiritedly announced,
“Please welco Lin Wanzhou with her competing song, ’If You’ve Also Heard.’”
As she finished speaking, the stage lights began to dim.
Thud, thud, thud, a drumbeat like a heartbeat hamred three tis. A leisurely prelude began to play, with the sound of ocean tides coming from afar, and blue lights lit up.
In the guest assembly hall, at the mont the stage design appeared, almost everyone’s expression changed.
That familiar feeling returned, reminiscent of the stage design for “Fleetingly Beautiful Years.” This imdiate atmospheric feeling was simply unbeatable, with the sounds of the waves complenting the Fluorescent Sea.
Sentintal ballads, another sentintal ballad.
Even the slowest person there could guess that Lin Wanzhou’s “If You’ve Also Heard” must have been crafted by the sa hand. With that familiar stage design, it had to be Xu Qingyan’s work.
Mrs. Wen’s mouth fell open in astonishnt, witnessing the blue glow of the Fluorescent Sea for that instant. A thought popped up unbidden in her mind, and she blurted out, almost uncontrollably,
“Don’t tell , this was also designed by Teacher Xu? He’s a songwriter, right?”
“Was this also designed by Little Teacher Xu?” Hou Xueheng also expressed surprise. He had lived almost fifty years and had never seen a songwriter handling stage designs, “Young man, truly a polymath!”
“The blue Fluorescent Sea goes well with this lody,” Jiang Jingsheng chid in, his tone slightly awkward, “This design is really not bad.”
How foolish they were; a songwriter unfamiliar with stage design wasn’t a good songwriter!
Not just the people in the guest assembly room were taken aback; in the dressing room, Pei Muchan was also a bit stunned.
“You designed this?”
“Yeah, I did it casually,” Xu Qingyan turned his head, “What’s up? It’s not that I didn’t design one for you, it’s mainly that we also couldn’t mobilize the stage resources.”
“I know,” Pei Muchan pursed her lips, glanced at the screen again, and murmured, “The Fluorescent Sea is really beautiful.”
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