135: Chapter 135: A Song of Joy Suppresses the Semi-Finals

The high-pitched sound of the suona reached its peak, then stopped abruptly.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

None of the five hundred members of the Audience Jury spoke a word.

The sorrow that seeped from their very bones suppressed the horror from just moments before.

The living paired with the dead.

At an age as vibrant as a flower, she donned a bright red wedding dress and covered her head with a red veil, only to bow before a cold, wooden memorial tablet.

Ignorance, absurdity, despair.

This was the blood and tears carved into the old era of Huaxia.

The audience was silent; a faint sadness welling up from the depths of their hearts swept over them.

If the moment the suona first sounded had left people feeling somewhat terrified, then the suona at the end, combined with the festive music, made one feel a bone-chilling tragedy.

All these sensory inputs made the audience feel as if they were present in that hall, witnessing this terrifying ritual with their own eyes.

The bullet comments in the Livestream Room started scrolling again after a few seconds of stagnation.

The speed was much slower than before, with only a few people expressing the sentiments in their hearts.

"The moment the suona came in, I knew this song wasn't simple!"

"Amazing! Shen Nian performed this song perfectly!"

"It's the middle of the night, I'm home alone, and my legs have gone weak!"

"I was scared at the beginning, but by the end, I just wanted to cry."

"This is the man-eating old society; Shen Nian sang out that sense of powerlessness."

In the front row of the Audience Jury.

An elderly music critic with a full head of white hair took off his reading glasses.

He took out a handkerchief, wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes, and let out a long sigh.

His generation was closer to that era and had heard more folklore.

The older generation understood this kind of old Huaxia culture the best; it was a sorrow of helplessness.

"What a tragedy," the old man murmured, leaning back in his chair, unable to calm down for a long time.

The overhead lights turned on row by row.

The Studio was bathed in light once again.

Shen Nian stood in the center of the stage, her bright red wedding dress glaringly vivid under the lights.

She kept her head slightly bowed, her chest heaving; she hadn't yet pulled herself out of the emotions.

Teacher He walked up from the side curtain, holding a microphone, looking at the audience below.

"This song..." Teacher He paused, his eyes slightly red, "The lingering effect is too powerful."

He didn't immediately ask for applause.

The venue remained silent for a full ten seconds.

Then applause erupted from the corners, joined together, and finally threatened to blow the roof off the entire venue.

Teacher He looked toward the judges' seats.

"Let's invite the three mentors to give their critiques."

Heavenly King Zhou was the first to pick up the microphone.

He stood up, looking at Shen Nian on the stage.

"Technically, it was impeccable."

"Many singers have tried combining Opera-style vocal technique with pop singing, but it often feels abrupt. You, however, handled it very seamlessly."

"The whispering in the verses, the explosion in the chorus, the transition between true and falsetto voices without a trace—you sang the process of a girl forced into a dead end, from resignation to madness, with distinct layers."

Heavenly King Zhou put down the microphone, clapped twice, and sat back in his chair.

Tang Yingxue picked up the microphone; she was wearing a white suit today, leaning back in her chair.

"I want to talk about the lyrics."

" 'The eighteenth of the first lunar month, an auspicious day.' In the old almanac, the eighteenth day of the first lunar month is a day where weddings are forbidden. The very first line of the lyrics writes that absurdity right on your face."

Tang Yingxue took a deep breath, complex emotions flashing in her eyes.

"Every word is written in blood. The wedding dress you wore today, combined with these lyrics, pushed the theme of 'sorrow' to the extreme."

Producer Chen Kexin pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. He didn't look at Shen Nian, but rather toward the side curtain.

"I can only describe the Arrangement of this song with four words: dimensional reduction strike."

The whole venue was in an uproar. Producer Chen Kexin was a gold-medal producer who usually spoke conservatively and rarely used such extreme terms.

"Just now, Zhang Yihan's Arrangement, done by Thomas, was excellent. Using low-frequency synthesizers to create a sense of oppression was very high-class."

"But 'Happiness' is different."

Producer Chen Kexin flipped through the materials in his hand.

"Erhu, pipa, guqin, bangzi, tanggu. They are all our Huaxia folk instruments."

"Especially that suona."

"Great joy and great sorrow are all contained within that one suona. Those Western electronic synthesizers are too thin in front of the suona."

He looked at Shen Nian.

"Pass a message to Jiang Fan for me. This song has brought the soul of Huaxia folk music back."

After Producer Chen Kexin finished speaking, he gently placed the microphone on the table.

Teacher He walked to the center of the stage.

"Thank you to the three mentors for their critiques."

He paused for a moment, letting the echo of the word "critiques" dissipate completely within the venue.

"Next—"

"We enter the first round of voting for the semifinals."

Teacher He raised his cue card, "The voting channel is now officially open! Will all members of the Audience Jury please pick up the voting devices in front of you."

"One vote per person. Please cast your decision for the singer you believe most touched you with the theme of 'sorrow' tonight."

As his voice fell, the large screens on both sides of the stage suddenly switched.

On the left was a frozen profile of Zhang Yihan on stage, wearing a black dress, smoky makeup, and her eyes cast downward.

On the right was Shen Nian in her bright red wedding dress, the dress like blood, her eyes hollow and desolate.

The two images were placed side by side, one black and one red, reaching the peak of visual impact.

"Let's invite Zhang Yihan back to the stage."

The side curtain opened.

Zhang Yihan lifted her skirt hem and walked onto the stage step by step.

She was still wearing that custom-made black dress designed to match the "funeral" style, and her smoky makeup looked somewhat weary under the lights.

The two stood in the center of the stage.

Zhang Yihan turned her head to look at Shen Nian beside her.

At this moment, Shen Nian hadn't completely come out of the music.

The flush at the corners of her eyes hadn't faded, and there was a sorrow in her eyes that made one afraid to look directly at her.

On that bright red wedding dress, the golden phoenix embroidered with gold thread seemed ready to spread its wings, yet it was pinned tightly to the satin.

Zhang Yihan suddenly shivered.

Standing close, she could feel the atmosphere of sorrow radiating from Shen Nian.

That was the lingering resonance after completely sacrificing oneself to a song.

Zhang Yihan was dazed.

She recalled her own performance on stage just moments ago.

Thomas had taught her how to control her breathing, how to use breathy vocals, and how to use facial expressions to coordinate with the lighting.

She had done it perfectly.

But what about Shen Nian?

Shen Nian wasn't singing at all. She was playing the part of that bride carried into a grave on the eighteenth of the first lunar month.

Those techniques Thomas taught were not even as good as paper props in the face of pure emotion.

Zhang Yihan lowered her eyes.

This round, she had lost.

In the backstage lounge.

Zhou Yutong crawled out from the corner of the sofa and patted her chest.

"Brother Fan, this song is absolutely incredible. I didn't even dare to breathe just now."

Jiang Fan leaned back on the sofa and drank some water.

"That stuff of Thomas's is fine for fooling laymen. If you really want to compare substance, Huaxia's five thousand years of history—even a single hair plucked from it is thicker than their waist."

Time slipped away during the voting.

The lights on the stage seemed to freeze.

Shen Nian kept her head down, counting the phoenix patterns on the lapel of her wedding dress.

Finally, Teacher He stood back in the center of the stage, holding a cue card with the printed results in his hand.

He took one look, his face revealing an expression that was unsurprised, yet still shocked.

"The voting channel for the one thousand members of the Audience Jury has closed."

"The vote counts for both singers have been tallied."

On the large screen, two bar charts suddenly lit up.

There was no suspense.

The red bar soared, like a rocket launching, directly hitting the very top.

The numbers flickered and finally settled.

"Shen Nian, 732 votes!"

"Zhang Yihan, 368 votes!"

An absolute crushing victory.

On this stage, such a lopsided gap in votes had never occurred before.

The venue was silent for a second.

Then, a gasp of astonishment, more intense than any before, swept through the venue like a tsunami.

The hollowness in Shen Nian's eyes gradually dissipated, and her pupils refocused.

She looked at the huge red number on the screen, then looked at the pale-faced Zhang Yihan beside her, and finally returned completely from the world of "Happiness".

Teacher He took a deep breath and raised his voice to the highest pitch.

"Let us—"

"Congratulations to Shen Nian for advancing to the finals!"