Chapter 38: Maestro of the Hall

This round, Liu Ruyun once again sang a love song, specially composed for her by one of Scarlet Queen Entertainment’s Hall of Fame musicians.

There are only twelve Hall of Fame-level music producers in the domestic industry, and Scarlet Queen Entertainment boasts two of them. These twelve are also known as the Twelve Principal Deities of Chinese Music.

This time, it was Wu Shaodong, the renowned “Godfather of Love Songs,” who penned the song for Liu Ruyun.

The song’s credits quickly appeared on the giant screen.

When the judges saw Wu Shaodong’s name, they were all stunned.

“Master Wu actually wrote a new song!”

“Master Wu won the Chinese Music Media Award twenty-four years ago!”

The Chinese Music Media Award, initiated by Southern Metropolis Daily and co-hosted by Guangdong East Radio Music Voice, Hong Kong City New Town Entertainment Channel, the Hong Kong City Composers and Lyricists Association, and several other organizations, is known for its open, fair, and transparent judging standards. Authorities from the mainland and Hong Kong and Taiwan are invited as judges. With the philosophy of “transcending pop, returning to the essence of music,” its inaugural event was held in 2001.

As the first domestic award modeled after the Grammys, the Media Award has always set up specialized categories such as rock, electronic, folk, hip-hop, and jazz. Over the years, it has earned a stellar reputation in the industry and media, hailed as the truly fair award, and the ceremony most likely to bear the mantle of credibility.

Wu Shaodong was the first recipient of the Chinese Music Media Award for pop music—his strength needs no further proof.

Many fans and netizens thought Wu Shaodong had retired, and no one expected he was still at Scarlet Queen Entertainment, much less that he wrote a new song for Liu Ruyun.

“Damn, Liu Ruyun has this in the bag!”

“Just seeing Wu Shaodong’s name on the big screen gives an unbeatable feeling!”

“Exactly, it’s like a super Taoist master showing up in a zombie movie, or when a Celestial King descends upon the world of a fantasy novel after the demon lords have run amok.”

As Liu Ruyun’s sweet and ethereal voice began to flow, she gracefully delivered the beautiful melody and heartfelt lyrics.

Many were utterly captivated.

Liu Sheng, sitting beside Shen Xian, whispered, “Liu Ruyun is very strong. Wang Tianqi might be eliminated.”

Ning Cai nodded, “The name Wu Shaodong is synonymous with classics.”

Shen Xian smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. He may be a master, but he’s old now. I know Liu Ruyun’s capabilities very well, but Wang Tianqi hasn’t even unleashed half his power yet.”

Ning Cai and Liu Sheng were both startled. “From what you’re saying, it sounds like you could launch both a King and a Queen of Pop yourself.”

Shen Xian replied without a hint of modesty, “That’s right. For example, you, Liu Sheng, have the potential to become a King of Pop—you just lack the right material.”

Liu Sheng shook his head with a wry smile, thinking Shen Xian was just blowing smoke. He was already in his forties, had missed his golden years, and now faced a ban.

Breaking through such blockades? Not so easy.

And where would one find good material? Go ask The Postman? But even The Postman’s experiences are limited.

Behind every King and Queen of Pop are several, sometimes more than a dozen, top-tier songwriters and producers providing resources and support.

Take Queen Zhou Wan for example—she has the Hall of Fame musician Lin Dao’an behind her, along with more than a dozen gold-standard producers crafting songs just for her.

Liu Ruyun soon reached the chorus; her voice carried remarkable power, showcasing the song’s strengths to perfection.

As soon as Liu Ruyun finished, Tan Jie felt a sense of foreboding.

This is bad, I’m finished.

Sure enough, Liu Ruyun’s results were announced.

The judges gave her forty-eight points, with nine hundred sixty-three audience votes!

Tan Jie had only nine hundred sixty-one.

Seeing the numbers, Liu Ruyun breathed a sigh of relief.

This round is secure.

Now, Tan Jie could only hope Wang Tianqi wouldn’t surpass nine hundred sixty-one votes.

But when Tan Jie looked at Shen Xian, who sat as steady as a mountain, that uneasy feeling only grew stronger.

Shen Xian still had cards left to play—and not just one.

“You don’t seem worried at all?” Liu Sheng asked. “At this rate, Liu Ruyun and Wang Tianqi are going to be neck and neck!”

Shen Xian replied, “Is neck and neck what I want? I want utter domination.”

Liu Sheng was taken aback. “But this is Wu Shaodong—a Hall of Famer!”

“There are six Grandmaster-level musicians above the Hall of Fame,” Shen Xian retorted.

Liu Sheng chose not to pursue the topic. “You know, I do miss our generation. I came up as the runner-up in a talent show; competitions back then weren’t nearly as intense. So many people sent me text-message votes from their pagers.”

“And now, let’s welcome our final contestant—Wang Tianqi!” the host’s voice interrupted their conversation.

Applause rose from the audience, and the livestream chat exploded with messages.

“The third round is underway! By now, everyone must know Wang Tianqi—he’s a singer who’s performed miracles, the dark horse of this season.” Even before Wang Tianqi took the stage, the host expertly built up anticipation.

The audience had watched Wang Tianqi fight his way through each round and held nothing but goodwill toward him.

“Before you begin, Mr. Wang Tianqi, could you share your story with us?” The host improvised to add drama and talking points.

“Of course,” Wang Tianqi replied. “I’ve known my girlfriend, Li Xiurong, for over ten years. We’ve officially been together for three. By then, I was already losing my vision, but she never left me. She took me from hospital to hospital; she’d just graduated from college at twenty-two. Even then, she never thought of leaving—she chose to stay with me without hesitation, never once considering walking away.”

“We squeezed into a tiny rental, planning our future.”

“We dreamed of better days, of a beautiful life after my sight returned.”

“But we also prepared for the worst. If I was blind for life, she said she’d take care of me forever.”

“I played music in bars, earning four or five thousand a month, but most of it went to medication.”

“She worked days at an accounting firm, then accompanied me at the bar at night. Life was tough, but we were happy.”

Li Xiurong raised her head, gazing at Wang Tianqi in the center of the stage, wiping the tears from her eyes, yet her face was wreathed in smiles.

Many in the audience were deeply moved; some women with tender hearts even began to tear up.

“We did break up for a while, but that’s a story for another time. I won’t take up your evening with it.” Wang Tianqi smiled gently. “The next song is my confession to Li Xiurong.”

The audience began to applaud.

And on the big screen, the details of the song started to appear.