Chapter 110: "Always So Quiet"

Ren Qian had repeatedly warned Murong Xue that she needed to practice her lung capacity more diligently in her daily life. When singing, she should try to keep her breaths low or even swallow the sound of her inhalation.

Yet, Murong Xue insisted on taking a loud, audible breath after every single line! A loud breath was effectively an extra word, disrupting the original rhythm and ruining the harmony of the entire song. This awkward and superfluous "lyric" was a complete mood-killer.

During the first round, Ren Qian had been ruthless in his efforts to cure her of this habit. Through high-intensity training, he forced her to overcome this shortcoming, and her performance had shown some improvement. By the second round, it had improved even further. But in the third round, her singing style had reverted completely to her old ways. The repetition of those gasping breaths was, to Ren Qian’s ears, like being violated over and over again.

He was planning to release her debut album soon, but with such an obvious fatal flaw, how could she possibly record one? Who would pay money for an album full of heavy panting? She wasn’t a superstar; she was just a recently budding talent show contestant. If people wanted to hear heavy breathing, they could just go to the local vendor and buy a cheap disc for five bucks. Those came with blood-pumping visuals, too!

Murong Xue walked slowly onto the stage. Perhaps she was a bit afraid of Ren Qian; she took a step, then glanced at him as if pleading for his forgiveness. She desperately wanted to break this bad habit, but whenever she reached a tense part of the song, she would forget, lose her technique, and the loud, gasping breaths would return.

However, Ren Qian was not the type to cherish the fairer sex; he treated everyone equally, acting every bit the impartial and overbearing boss.

"Do not let me hear even the slightest sound of breathing. If you have to swallow it, swallow it; if you have to hold it, hold it. Otherwise, you will practice fifty times tonight, and until the task is complete, there will be no sleep!"

Clearly, such intimidation was effective. Murong Xue shrank her slender neck, closed her eyes, and inhaled slowly.

"… Our love, like the scenery you pass by, has always been moving forward, but your footsteps have never stopped for me… The love I give you has always been so quiet, in exchange for the occasional concern you offer… The love I give you has always been so quiet…"

It was a simple yet heartbreaking song about a heroine who loves the hero deeply, only to be ignored by him. The tangled emotions within were enough to conjure up a dramatic tale of unrequited love. Murong Xue’s ethereal, heavenly voice, infused with weeping, pleading emotions, gave the whole song a lingering, complex sense of melancholy.

"The love I give you has always been so quiet…"

After hearing it just once, one couldn't help but hum along. Murong Xue was just a young girl, and lately, she had developed secret feelings for Ren Qian—feelings she had to bury deep in her heart, unable to speak them aloud. What could be more bitter than that? As she sang, she became lost in the music, her eyes brimming with tears. You are always moving forward, never pausing for me; you have your warm harbor, your beautiful lover, your lovely wife. And I can only watch from afar…

At that moment, Murong Xue sang with such abandon that even the cameraman was mesmerized. Such a fairy-like girl—one wondered who would be lucky enough to bring her home.

"Not bad! This take was acceptable. Keep practicing; I hope that when the official performance comes, you can stun everyone once again. Remember, when you practice, try to reduce the number of breaths you take. This will train your lung capacity and give you unexpected breakthroughs in handling emotional delivery."

As everyone broke into applause, Ren Qian stood up to offer his critique. It was true that these people were "stubborn bones"—without his pressure, they wouldn't explode with the potential they possessed. During this process, Ren Qian heard murmurs from the stage.

"We two old folks can't keep up with your rhythm at all; we'll be eliminated soon!"

"What are you saying? The two seniors have excellent vocal skills; how could we newcomers compare?"

"The waves of the Yangtze River push the ones in front, leaving them to die on the beach. Look at Jin Zhiwen—he can write songs and arrange them. A total all-rounder."

"Stop! Focus on singing; don't engage in this mutual flattery! When I was talking about Murong Xue, you should have been thinking about whether you have similar shortcomings. A singer’s lung capacity is their greatest asset. Without it, how can you deliver an outstanding performance?"

The singers dared not speak again. They had no standing, nor did they dare to act like prima donnas in front of Ren Qian. Whether comparing popularity or talent, they had to bow their heads and admit defeat. Moreover, Ren Qian was their "superior," and with these factors combined, they dared not be sloppy.

"Second, Hu Yanbin, 'Hills'."

This masterpiece by Jonathan Lee was highly sought after. Some said that writing such a great song must have shortened his life by at least twenty years. This was not a curse upon the godfather of the music scene, but a high compliment. The song had simple instrumentation and plain lyrics. Using his unique spoken-word style and the raspy voice of an old man, Lee told the story of a youth who spent his life trying to climb high mountains to see the sights on the other side, losing many precious things along the way, only to reach the summit and find more mountains beyond. He wanted to turn back to retrieve his precious past, but he no longer had the strength to take another step.

In just six minutes and forty-five seconds, an entire life was condensed. Every word and every note resonated with the lives of everyone, allowing listeners—both young and old—to find different levels of connection. The song was easy to sing, but extremely difficult to sing in a way that moved millions. Lee’s version was unsurpassable.

That youthful arrogance, "obsessed with lovers and career, unable to let go of love, hate, and the bitterness of life," and that mature loneliness of "having experienced the vicissitudes of life, finding a kindred spirit is difficult, and no longer willing to share one's story with others"—only an old man like Lee, who had seen through the coldness of the world, could truly sing it.

However, Hu Yanbin’s adaptation was also quite good. He interpreted "Hills" from a young man's perspective, expressing the loneliness of reaching the top only to find no flowers or applause waiting for him, as well as the tenacity of a hot-blooded spirit that ten years of ice could not cool. This was a different kind of hill. Unlike Jonathan Lee’s detachment and transcendence, Hu Yanbin was a passionate young man, tirelessly climbing one mountain after another.

That was why Ren Qian had assigned this song to Hu Yanbin, hoping he would provide a surprise. But he was disappointed.

"There is still much I want to say but haven't yet… I keep it inside because I want to write it into a song… to let people hum it softly and remember it faintly… even if it is eventually forgotten, it was worth it…"

"Stop!"

The moment Hu Yanbin sang the first line, Ren Qian immediately halted him! Why would a young man try to affect an old man’s tone? And his voice simply wasn't suited for Jonathan Lee’s style…