Chapter 44: Torrent Part 2

Mao Maoyu pouted. “Or do you want to smoke Li Fushun’s cigarettes?”

Fine. The two brothers just sat in the smoking room for a while. As if suddenly remembering something, Mao Maoyu ran over and pulled the curtains shut on the scenic window, laughing dryly: “Don’t want some photography enthusiast at Tide Garden capturing a sunset shot again…”

After finishing their cigarettes, they went downstairs to the park’s convenience store to buy ice cream.

“Since we’re here.”

Mao Maoyu asked, “It’s fine if just us two eat, right? Don’t bring any back for Li Fushun?”

Now Li Tingzhou was genuinely both angry and amused. “What time is it and you’re still competing with him over jealousy? Let me tell you, I am going to push this through in one go today, no nonsense from you, no nonsense from Eldan. Get him an ice cream, the vanilla one is fine. I’ll go next door and buy coffee.”

Back upstairs, everyone in the meeting room got ice cream and coffee.

Old Pang folded his arms and smiled. “I’ll pass. Getting old.”

Beside him, Ren Shiyu counted heads and understood immediately—

They hadn’t bought any for you at all, old man!

A man over sixty still drinking coffee, not afraid of staring wide-eyed until dawn?

The others ate their ice cream, which cost several dozen bucks a pop, not daring to say much.

Li Tingzhou smoothly took back full control of the tempo. “For the adaptation of these sections, Eldan will have them for me before dinner. Also, regarding the second chorus, I’ve thought about it, and we can satisfy Teacher Pang’s requirement. He wants pure fluidity, like a river running into the sea. Not every stretch of the journey has to be raging waves; it can also be calm and gentle.”

How to adapt it then? What standard should it specifically reference?

After calming down, Li Tingzhou already had an answer in mind.

He could understand Old Pang’s apprehension: afraid that the guest singer would steal the beloved disciple’s spotlight. Even more afraid that netizens would dissect it afterward, claiming the base of the Season 7 championship trophy should be credited to Mengmeng…

That solo passage in “A Woman’s Heart” had truly given the Mengmeng fans an aural feast.

Old Pang had twice mentioned how ingenious Mengmeng’s design in that section was, adding layers, enriching the listening experience—like a brilliantly crafted continuation.

Mentioning it often meant he liked it? No, it meant he wanted it too.

Thus, Li Tingzhou decided to use this structure once again, just in a different form.

Strip away the grand brass section, leave only the strings as accompaniment, simulating the atmosphere of moonlight over deep, quietly flowing waters. This section would inevitably require a tempo change, maximizing the unique vocal tone and style advantage of Ren Shiyu, until the rivers merged again, the other sections gradually rejoined, and the rhythm returned to its unceasing, surging theme…

Although this section differed somewhat in style from the main melody, the overall impression was still quite harmonious.

Ren Shiyu was already very satisfied. She agreed before Old Pang could.

At this, Old Pang could no longer object.

Li Tingzhou worked extremely fast, and his companions weren’t far behind. By dinner time, a few of the young guys had already structured it to about seventy to eighty percent completion in the software, just waiting for the final arrangement and score coordination. Was it difficult? Not really. “Torrent” wasn’t originally a proper symphonic piece; its scope was limited. Even if adapted to an elaborate degree, ultimately the focus was still the singing. Adding more orchestration merely served a supporting role.

G City had a locally renowned symphony orchestra. The moment Ren Shiyu and Mengmeng’s group submitted their plan, the production team rushed to coordinate.

A last-minute request like this was usually accommodated.

How much effort could a three-minute-plus “Torrent” require?

Familiarize themselves with the score and rehearse together. Even if they got the score the night before and had to perform the next day, the G City Symphony Orchestra could deliver it steadily and securely. Not to mention, the production team notified them two days in advance.

The G City Symphony Orchestra had also heard about the Central Arts Troupe’s recent massive success.

People had privately discussed it: Why didn’t they just find us nearby? We could also split our string section out to take gigs.

So it turns out the big stage was still waiting!

Just the name “Top Five Vocal Concert” sounded like a high-end event where masters gathered and the scale was grand.

~

The closer it got to the final, the faster time seemed to fly.

By the time the costumes arrived, Li Tingzhou and First Sister were already rehearsing with the G City Symphony Orchestra.

Ren Shiyu heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I was so afraid they wouldn’t make it in time.”

For songs like “A Woman’s Heart” and “A Courtyard of Fragrance,” preparations began the week before when the songs were chosen. Only this time, they couldn’t decide quickly, leaving less than three days.

Although Eldan wasn’t performing on stage, he really liked this new-style Chinese suit.

Li Tingzhou consoled him knowingly: “I’ll ask if we can buy it…”

Mao Maoyu whispered to Dai Jier: “Stinking Fushun, always pulling this trick.”

The “Torrent” group’s dress rehearsal was scheduled first.

It wasn’t until now that Li Tingzhou and First Sister came face-to-face with the other groups. There was nothing left to hide by this point. While First Sister was confident, she dared not underestimate the others, especially Zhao Chenmin—a formidable rival!

She didn’t even dare to think: if she didn’t get first place in the Top Five Vocal Concert, how could she possibly beat her on King of Singers Night?

Everyone’s nerves were taut as they waited to go on stage for rehearsal.

After one performance of “Torrent,” Ren Shiyu’s mood remained anxious.

But Li Tingzhou had a sense of the outcome.

He came down with his microphone, handed it to a dedicated staff member for safekeeping, turned a corner, and saw Liu Lusi waiting in the backstage corridor.

“Why are you here?”

She held her phone interface, a call in progress, and mouthed silently: “Your brother.”

Li Tingzhou quickly touched his throat lightly. Ahem!

“Hey, it’s me.”

“…Yeah, I can make it. I’ll go ask them in a bit. Are you coming by yourself or…?”

“No need to specially send any flowers. There’s no such rule. Just come directly.”

After hanging up, the breath Li Tingzhou had just released got stuck in his throat again. He looked at Liu Lusi and said, “Tell Director Pan directly. It’s just a family member coming to watch the show. Nothing major.”

Liu Lusi asked quietly, “Isn’t he busy?”

Li Tingzhou didn’t know how to answer, so he had to brush it off: “Hard to say.”

How could such a high-ranking official not be busy?

But there were exceptions to everything.

Li Songyi had experienced this kind of situation a few years ago. Back then, a sudden call from home told Li Tingzhou to come back and visit family, scaring him into thinking someone was seriously ill! Turned out, Li Songyi was going to the Party School for training and had finally carved out a bit of time to occasionally go home and spend time with family.

Li Tingzhou thought: Is this the kind of “spending time with family” that requires me to fly a dozen-plus hours back home?

Now, with history repeating itself, he actually understood immediately.

The difference was, this time, he didn’t need to take a dozen-plus-hour flight back home. Li Songyi could just report his plans after Party class, drive himself over, and easily come watch his younger brother’s performance.

Upon receiving the news, Pan Jun was excited at first but quickly calmed down.

He personally selected the positions for Mengmeng’s two relationship seat tickets, and with great consideration, thought through every aspect for them:

Mengmeng’s real brother had a special status and definitely couldn’t be shown on camera, so the director and camera crew had to be instructed in advance to absolutely avoid panning to that area. On top of that, Cui Lin was also coming, low-key and alone. This fake brother needed just as much protection—don’t let him be exposed to the cameras and stir up unnecessary controversy…

After privately messaging Mengmeng, the reply was indeed a [Qiaoqiao paw-up OK.JPG] sticker.

~

Friday, the day of the event. Cui Lin got up early to prepare.

He spent nearly an hour in the hotel gym, then swam for another half hour.

Little Wang showed him three final design proposals from the florist. Cui Lin carefully considered them and chose the third one. He just instinctively felt that Mengmeng would like that one.

“Should we add a greeting card?”

“No.”

Cui Lin thought: I’m here low-key. Why be so flashy?

Of course, if the camera accidentally swept over him, he wouldn’t need to say much. He’d just casually, lightly acknowledge it in the comment section of his social media afterward if netizens or fans asked. That would be enough.

It was about time. He needed to head out and enter the venue.

Holding the special pass for the relationship seat, Cui Lin’s path was completely unobstructed. By the time the inner hall was nearly full and waiting quietly for the show to start, a staff member finally guided them to their seats. The moment he sat down, Cui Lin noticed a man beside him with an imposing, extraordinary presence. He wore a low-key black shirt, a pair of fine gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose bridge.

Following some primal instinct, Cui Lin tried his best not to appear curious or intrusive.

Fortunately, the other man also seemed disinclined to talk, maintaining his silence.

At exactly 5 PM, the host took the stage for the opening. The camera crane swept over several times, but when it reached the center-left aisle line, it halted and didn’t continue left, slowly retreating back to the right. Cui Lin thought: It’s fine, there’s still plenty of time.

He had never, in his life, waited for a camera shot so deliberately and pretentiously.

But soon, Cui Lin forgot about it entirely.

Following the host’s announcement, the first performance was Mengmeng and Ren Shiyu’s group with “Torrent.” Before anyone even appeared, the symphony orchestra’s grand, magnificent prelude had already sounded, the image of rivers surging seemingly already unfurling before the entire audience!

The male voice and female voice, ebbing and flowing, approached from afar in a form that was both entwined yet resilient.

The two forces, the more they converged, the stronger they became.

But from start to finish, a thread of calm, quiet sound flowed through it all.

The moment the lights brightened, Cui Lin straightened his back, his eyes fixed squarely on Li Tingzhou. So, Mengmeng with a classical, refined elegance was the true killer—especially those fine-rimmed silver glasses.

He had never seen Mengmeng wear glasses on stage!

“Torrent” gradually entered its climax. That surging, vital momentum brought an overwhelmingly intense shock, entirely different from watching on television. The Main Broadcast Hall, built at a cost of a hundred million, possessed the top-tier indoor sound system of this era. It was so powerful it almost gave one goosebumps.

Mengmeng’s voice was like clear, sparkling spray flecked with fragmented sunlight.

Yes.

Spray.

It was spray.

Spray that kept crashing against the shores of Cui Lin’s heart.

He couldn’t control his emotions. In the midst of extreme excitement and being deeply moved, a powerful throb of the heart took over.

Accompanied by a fierce, rapid heartbeat, the song reached its latter half.

Clearly, this was Ren Shiyu’s solo highlight. She delivered the most difficult solo since the show began recording. The complete, wave-shaped spotlight seemed almost to melt and swallow her whole. It wasn’t until Mengmeng’s humming and the strings slowly converged again—like two temporarily separated rivers reuniting, together rushing toward the ocean’s embrace…

The mighty torrent rushed to the sea; the spray could not fully speak the matters of the heart.

Cui Lin finally felt that legendary withdrawal effect.

Just as he was alone, replaying the stage in his mind, the man beside him stood up in the dim light. A staff member near the aisle immediately noticed his movement and, bending slightly at the waist, led this mysterious person away from the inner hall.

Cui Lin paid no attention. He looked away with indifference.

All he cared about was: now back in the backstage area, had Mengmeng seen the flowers he sent?