Chapter 65: Live Voting!

On Weibo, everyone was fervently discussing this song. With the smog in the capital weighing on people’s spirits these days, at last, they had found an outlet for their frustrations.

“Damn it! Who turned our environment into this mess?”
“These lyrics are so biting!”
“The authorities are just freeloaders!”
“I’ve heard ‘Little Bird’ once on Five-Star, it was stunning! Heard it again at a music festival, it was exhilarating! But it’s the Dream Show version that touched me the most! Environmental protection is the greatest issue of our time!”

Some discussed the theme of environmental protection, but there was also a group pondering another layer of meaning in the lyrics. And this meaning, even more apparent than the environmental theme, was a reflection on life itself.

“The lyrics seem simple, yet they capture the bitterness and essence of life!”
“Why do I sense the feeling of unfulfilled ambitions?”
“Every line is deeply moving—life has always been this hard!”
“Sigh! I too am searching for a warm embrace in this world.”
“Pain surges in my heart, sorrow fills my soul.”
“There are many little birds, but the forest is so small. Beyond helplessness, the lyrics actually convey a spirit of resilience—no matter how high you can fly, just try flying first!”
“The world is so small, there’s nowhere for us to escape!”
“These years, I’ve been struggling in the big city, stumbling at every step. Suddenly, I realize how far my hometown has become. Working hard at the bottom rung of a big city, suffering so I can send more money home—I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I miss home...”
“...”

...

Shanpan Village, Baipo Township, Dongshan City.

In a countryside household, the middle-aged master of the house sat under a tree in the yard, puffing on his pipe. Beside the outdoor faucet, his wife was scrubbing clothes. Suddenly, a boy’s shrill cry rang out from the bedroom: “Dad! Mom! Come quick! Big brother is on TV!”

The elderly couple stared at each other in disbelief. The boy who had shouted ran out, grabbing his father with one hand and his mother with the other. “Dad, Mom! Come see! Big brother is on TV! On CCTV, no less!”

“What?” The mother dropped the laundry and rushed inside. The father followed, both of them hurrying into the house. On the television, Gallen was singing on the Dream Show stage.

“Quick! Go call your big sister and second brother back!” the mother ordered the younger son, while she and her husband kept their eyes glued to the screen, not daring to blink.

“Is... is that really my son?” the father, Gai Shanlin, asked softly, still in disbelief.

“Yes! Just look, it says right there!” the mother, Luan Suping, pointed to the line of text on the TV screen: “Guest Challenger: Gallen, ‘I Am a Little Bird’!”

“Oh...” The father drew in a long, slow breath.

Soon, the three children returned, bringing along a group of friends who had been playing with them. Everyone had heard the news from the youngest brother and rushed over. The news spread quickly through the village; before long, more adults arrived. By the time Gallen finished his song, the house was packed.

People chatted excitedly.

“Is that really little Gallen?”
“Tsk tsk, the Gai family is truly blessed—their kid is on TV!”
“Looks like Gallen’s going to be a big star! The Gai family probably won’t stay in this backwater much longer!”

As the villagers talked, Gallen’s mother, Luan Suping, was busy calling relatives and friends. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they were tears of joy, and her voice was laced with laughter.

“Mom! Have you turned on the TV? Quick, CCTV-2, Gallen’s on TV! Yes, take care of yourself, Mom!”
“Big sister! Are you watching? CCTV-2...”

...

At the same time, in a conference room on the same floor as the studio, Yao Guangping, the head of CCTV-2, was holding a meeting with a group of people, including Wu Chaoyang. As the channel director, Yao Guangping had been watching the Dream Star Show live in the studio. Halfway through Gallen’s song, he rushed out. Such a song, paired with those visuals, was like a ready-made public service announcement!

He immediately had his secretary contact Wu Chaoyang, called in the deputy director, the head of the advertising department, and several staff members to discuss the matter.

Wu Chaoyang sat calmly, waiting for their offer. CCTV-2 was not known for stinginess; as long as the price was reasonable, they would buy. Besides, public service ads were always a political task, with quotas every quarter. This time, with such an opportunity, they would easily exceed their targets and win praise not just from the network, but perhaps from the broadcasting authority itself.

For Wu Chaoyang, it was an unexpected windfall. He hadn’t known in advance that Gallen had produced a video for this song. In fact, this was what Gallen had been busy with since the rehearsal days. He had personally approached the leadership at Yida Film & TV, paying out of pocket for the production.

The video itself wasn’t expensive to make; anyone skilled in animation and photography could do it. The music was live, even the bird calls were designed by the onsite band. The key was the concept.

There were plenty of public service announcements, but few were so gently composed in the beginning, deeply moving in the middle, and filled with compassion and remorse at the end—layer upon layer of emotion, fully realized. As for the song, whether in terms of inspiration, public interest, or humanistic sentiment, it was a rare gem in the Chinese music scene for decades.

CCTV-2 made their offer—the video would remain, but needed to be remade, as Gallen’s version was too rough. However, the concept and design would remain unchanged, and the music would use Gallen’s live performance from the show. So, the public service ad would still be Gallen’s creation; the version shown in the studio would become a demo.

Wu Chaoyang didn’t haggle; after all, maintaining a good relationship with CCTV meant more opportunities down the line. It wouldn’t do to sacrifice the future for short-term gain.

Meanwhile, at other major satellite TV stations, including CCTV-1, many industry professionals were watching tonight’s Dream Star Show. When Gallen’s segment aired, they were all stunned.

“CCTV-2 is going all out!”
“Who came up with such a brilliant idea?”
“I bet tonight’s ratings will break records again!”
“This song is great too—is it original?”
“Let’s try to invite this guy onto our network’s shows!”

...

The advertising world was equally abuzz. As seasoned professionals, they could immediately recognize the value of the video. But as insiders, they also saw that such a rough video couldn’t have been produced in-house by CCTV-2.

Who was behind such a creative piece? For a time, everyone in the industry was actively investigating. After all, Dream Star Show was broadcast nationwide, not just regionally. Many staff at CCTV-2 found their phones ringing off the hook; several advertising agencies that had worked with the channel even called the advertising department directly. Those without connections could only search online.

Gallen’s profile became the primary target for everyone’s research. They discovered he was a relatively new singer—very popular online, creative in music, but with no notable achievements in other fields.

Back in the studio, Gallen finished his song, bowed to the audience, then acknowledged the band on the left and the judges on the right. Applause thundered through the hall. At someone’s lead, the entire audience stood up—a first in three seasons of Dream Star Show.

As the lights dimmed, Gallen left the stage. Next up was weekly champion Sun Youjia, singing a popular mainstream song. For some reason, he hit a few wrong notes. Though the mistakes were minor, compared to Gallen, the difference was stark.

After Sun Youjia finished, the applause was polite but noticeably less enthusiastic than for Gallen.

Returning to the stage, Gallen was joined by Sister Mei. As she walked, she said, “Alright! Both our challenger and our weekly champion have performed. Now, let’s hear what the judges have to say!”

Cai Qingguo spoke first. “Sun Youjia, you were so confident with this song, and yet you performed like this. Truly disappointing!” Then he turned to Gallen. “Gallen, did you produce the video shown on the big screen yourself?”

“Yes,” Gallen nodded.

“And you wrote the song as well?”

“Yes.”

“Although your singing still has much room for improvement, overall, it was excellent!” Cai Qingguo finished, and Liu Xiufang took over.

“I haven’t heard such a mature original work in many years! The standard is truly high! Gallen, thank you for bringing us such a beautiful song tonight!”

“Thank you, teacher,” Gallen replied humbly.

Everyone waited for her to critique Sun Youjia as well, but to their surprise, Liu Xiufang simply said, “That’s all I have to say.”

A ripple of astonishment ran through the audience. That was quite a snub—not even bothering with a proper critique!

A flash of displeasure crossed Sun Youjia’s face, but he quickly recovered; this was live television, after all.

Host Mei promptly stepped in. “Thank you, both teachers, for your wonderful comments. Now, Mr. Dai, do you have anything to say to our two contestants?”

“The gap today is quite significant. Even if Sun Youjia hadn’t made mistakes, choosing such a mainstream song against such a strong opponent would have made it hard to stand out.” Dai Chunyang continued, “Gallen’s lyrics are simple, not particularly poetic, but they capture the character and emotions of ordinary people with delicacy. Every line strikes a chord—succinct, powerful, truly excellent!”

“Thank you! Thank you, judges!” Mei picked up, “Now, audience members, please pick up your voting devices and cast a vote for your favorite contestant! Three! Two! One! Start!”