Chapter Seventy-Six: Once More at the Resting Place of a Hundred Blossoms, Where Fresh Flowers Smile Radiantly

Xu Zhiqian nodded slowly to the band conductor. The yangqin is quite an amusing instrument; among all traditional Chinese instruments, it’s the one that most demands attention. When it enters, others like the guzheng, guqin, or flute can only stand by and let it take the spotlight.

The yangqin is robust in size, its resonating chamber generous, able to project sound that fills the entire hall—its volume is grand, its resonance lingering, its range broad. Its tone is rich yet sharp, balanced and distinctive.

Such obvious strengths, however, come with equally apparent flaws. The yangqin’s lingering resonance means that when recording, the true quality of the sound is often lost; instead, it can come across as noisy and jarring.

This is easy to understand: the yangqin’s size and ample resonance space cause reverberations in the air, which recording devices capture alongside the primary notes. These delicate echoes, imperceptible to the human ear, are what make its live performances so remarkable.

Ren Qian’s choice of the yangqin for Xu Zhiqian was not arbitrary. The original version of “Hundred Flowers Mound” also featured the yangqin, which complemented the song’s atmosphere perfectly. It added an extra touch of ingenuity and freshness.

The lights rose slowly, illuminating Xu Zhiqian’s face.

Ren Qian watched him calmly. When people are appropriately tense, they often perform beyond their usual level. He was eager to see what kind of interpretation Xu Zhiqian would deliver.

This song, “Hundred Flowers Mound,” was a well-known piece in the ancient style sung by the Young Master of Dongshan in his previous life. The Young Master of Dongshan—a locally renowned artist from the Lingnan region—had considerable influence there. His “Hundred Flowers Mound” and “Miss Xiguan” were both excellent Cantonese songs.

After catering to the audience with several Mandarin songs, Ren Qian was finally ready to indulge his own preferences.

For a singer to earn the title of Song God, he must become the defining influence of his era. But how to achieve that? By being extraordinarily talented, not only creating countless classics but even founding an entirely new genre. Like the first Song God’s ancient style, or Sam Hui’s Cantonese pop.

Ren Qian’s ambition was hardly modest, and on the path of pioneering a new style, he was already forging ahead.

Now, with the platform of “I Am a Singer,” he intended to lead a new trend, to let the world hear the voice of Cantonese!

The yangqin’s notes rang out, plucked and trembling—first singing for itself, then shivering through the audience.

The listeners were startled; the prelude’s tone shifted dramatically, utterly unlike the styles of Sun Muran, Sha Pulang, or Hu Yanbin.

The sound of the yangqin carried a trace of despair, making them restless—the emotion conveyed by both instrument and melody was palpable. This song was ruthless, its emotion extreme!

The collective heartbeats of the audience seemed to falter for a beat; in such extremes, it’s easier for the music to penetrate the soul.

“Fragrant herbs and slender willows drink the misty rain,
Parting words swallowed, impossible to hold back.
Before the scholar weds, he is gone, my sleeves already wet with tears,
From ancient times, beauty’s lament has left only a few sorrowful lines...”

Xu Zhiqian had the voice of a storyteller, so when he began, the feeling was utterly different from the Young Master of Dongshan. The Young Master was the protagonist—lamenting, “For ten years, life and death drift far apart. I do not dwell, but cannot forget. A lonely grave a thousand miles away, with no one to speak of desolation... Facing each other in silence, only tears flow in thousands...”

But Xu Zhiqian was the tree before the grave—witness to this tragic story, swaying in the wind, neither joyful nor sad, quietly murmuring, “Year after year, this place breaks my heart; in the moonlit night, on the short pine hill.”

The audience should be thankful there were no subtitles on-site, for these chilling lyrics, even a glance would send shivers down one’s spine—

“The west wind snuffs out the memorial candles in pairs,
My beloved fades away, becoming the pale moon.
Once more at Hundred Flowers Mound, the fresh blossoms smile in beauty,
From the depths of passion, regrets are etched upon the tombstone.”

This verse grew even more eerie—lovers doomed never to unite, the west wind extinguishing funeral candles, the bright moon shining on a ghostly bride, the Hundred Flowers Mound entombing all, together in death at last.

Ren Qian’s favorite line was, “Once more at Hundred Flowers Mound, the fresh blossoms smile in beauty.” At first glance, it seemed radiant, but the deeper one considered, the more terrifying it became. Beneath the mound, withered bones lay at rest, yet the flowers fed by their blood bloomed all the more brilliantly.

The yin-yang master says, the more the dead, the more vibrant the flowers. One can imagine how many lost souls linger within Hundred Flowers Mound.

Even if the audience didn’t understand the lyrics, they could still feel the desolation in the melody. A suffocating sense of being buried in decaying earth spread through the studio.

Ren Qian smiled; he knew his goal had been achieved. This episode was near perfection—Cantonese songs would soon enter every household, and singing in Cantonese was destined to become a trend.

“Hatred, inch by inch; dreams, drifting far and wide—the fairest flower eventually wearies,
Perhaps Qiaoyang and his love will meet again in another life, in another cycle.
Affection, inch by inch; souls, drifting far away,
In the deep night of Goat City, you lie alone, longing…”

What a song!

The key was, a song whose lyrics were not understood always gave off a sense of high class!

So much so that this song left an even deeper impression on the audience than those before—it was something new amidst a sea of ancient-style songs. After years of rich fare, a taste of plain tea and simple rice was a revelation.

It was just like an emperor traveling in disguise, inexplicably praising a peasant’s pickled vegetables.

By this point in the show, many young viewers harbored an incredible suspicion in their hearts. These ancient-style songs they’d never heard before—who wrote them? Judging by this Cantonese song, it seemed all the lyrics and compositions were handled single-handedly by Qian Shen!

They could barely resist picking up their phones to post this astonishing news on Weibo—

“Qian Shen once again flaunts his godlike talent, contributing six classic ancient-style pieces in one episode of ‘I Am a Singer.’ The audience is thrilled!”

But just then, Ren Qian returned to the stage.

“The show has reached its final singer. This female vocalist’s voice is truly divine. The first time I heard her, I was amazed—how could there be a voice so beautiful in the world?”

“When creating ‘I Am a Singer,’ I knew she had to be here.”

“Please welcome…”

My goodness! A heavenly voice? Could it really be so exaggerated? Even a legend like Qian Shen praised her—then it must be truly stunning.

No one expected that, at the very end, there was still a headliner—what a spectacular show. When I get home, I must urge my friends to follow this program!

Murong Xue walked through the singer’s passage, standing nervously at the stage entrance. She was only a third-tier singer, not well known. The largest event she’d ever attended was a fan meeting, with maybe a few dozen people.

But today there were five hundred. Five hundred wasn’t much, but sharing the stage with Sun Muran, Sha Pulang, and other top stars—that was enormous pressure.

What heightened the pressure even more was that this was the holy ground of national variety shows, a program that Jiangnan TV valued immensely.

Under such strain, her body trembled. Her temporary manager tried to encourage her, but it didn’t help much.

One step… two steps… three steps…

The lights dimmed, a heavy atmosphere spreading. In the darkness, she could see all five hundred audience members watching expectantly, and Qian Ge smiled at her.

“I mustn’t ruin this performance! I have to stand tall on this stage!”