202: Songstress Selection

The terminal screen lit up, and a notification popped up: [At 12:12 AM last night, the first newborn in Skydome City was born; both mother and child are safe.]

Shen Xiaochuan looked at it for two seconds and tapped his fingers lightly on the desk.

He had just finished writing the patrol log.

The copper gear on his cuff brushed against the edge of the paper, making a faint sound.

Sunlight shone in from outside the window, landing on a corner of the console.

The sparrow flew away, but the wire was still swaying.

He did not reply immediately, but instead opened the Medical Team's duty log to confirm that the delivery process had gone smoothly.

The door opened, and a gust of cold air blew in.

Anna walked in, carrying a stack of documents.

Her hair was tied up neatly, and there were a few snowflakes on the shoulders of her white coat.

"Just finished the postpartum observation," she said. "The mother escaped from the north three months ago and had frostbite before, but she's recovering well. The baby is healthy, weighing six jin and two liang."

Shen Xiaochuan nodded. "Thank you for your hard work."

"I'm not the only one working hard." Anna placed the documents on the table. "I've already had the nurses register the status of all pregnant women. There are seventeen of them now, all at different stages. In two months, the weather will be even colder, people will be less active, and stress will be higher, so there will be more births."

She flipped to a page with a chart. "The current maternity ward can only take three at a time, and the equipment isn't enough. I suggest converting the old factory building in the East District into a mother and infant branch. The building there is sturdy, and the heating can be connected to the main grid."

Shen Xiaochuan looked at the location of the East District on the map and said after a few seconds, "The budget is approved. Make a list of what Materials and personnel you need, and report it directly to me."

"Thank you." Anna paused. "It's not just for giving birth. Many people lost their families in this cold wave; now that they've survived, they've started thinking about the future. One mother held my hand last night and said, 'It would be great if this child could grow up listening to music.'"

She left after saying this, her footsteps quick. Shen Xiaochuan didn't move, his eyes fixed on the terminal.

Messages from the community inspections popped up one by one: the elderly don't go out all day and are feeling low; children are crying more at home; some people in several blocks are showing symptoms of anxiety.

He remembered the days when he lived in the steel mill dormitory as a child. The winters were very cold, there was no TV at home, and the radio played operas and folk songs every day. Auntie Wang next door often said, "Listen to a few tunes, and your heart won't feel so empty."

He stood up and walked to the power distribution map on the wall, his finger sliding along the main line to the commercial district before stopping.

A broadcast System could be built. The speakers were already installed, prepared previously for emergency notifications. What was missing now was content, was sound.

He picked up his coat and went out. The zipper of his dark blue work uniform was pulled up to his chin, and the gear on his cuff swayed gently as he walked.

The temporary market in the commercial district was at the entrance of the sheltered alley. A few plastic sheets covered the stalls. Carl was counting the goods. He was wearing an old jacket and holding a notebook. Seeing Shen Xiaochuan approach, he immediately walked up to meet him.

"Something up?" Carl asked.

"I want to set up a broadcast station," Shen Xiaochuan said. "Play some music, daily reminders, and children's stories every day to give people something to listen to."

Carl's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea. People are bored to death, and just distributing supplies doesn't solve the problem."

"Have you ever organized a performance troupe before?" Shen Xiaochuan looked at him.

"I led a small team in a southern city three years ago," Carl nodded. "We had singers and dancers. There are fewer people now, but I know some young people with decent potential."

"I need them now," Shen Xiaochuan said. "Find a few who can sing, as long as their voices are clear, they don't need to be professionals."

Carl turned and left. "Meet at the Cultural Station in two hours, I'll pick some people for you."

Shen Xiaochuan followed him to the Cultural Station. It was a converted abandoned warehouse with a few tables and chairs, and old musical instruments piled in the corner. The blackboard on the wall read, "Today's opening hours: 10:00-16:00."

Less than two hours later, Carl brought back six young girls. They were dressed warmly, some wearing wool hats, some wearing scarves, standing in the middle of the room looking a bit nervous.

"Are you all ready?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

Carl nodded. "One by one, just sing a short piece a cappella."

The first girl's voice trembled, and she forgot the lyrics halfway through. The second one was off-rhythm. The third one didn't have enough breath. The fourth one barely finished, but her voice was a bit hoarse. The fifth one had decent technique, but sounded like she was reciting a book. The sixth one said "I can't do it" before even starting.

It was the last one's turn.

Her name was Yinafuer. She wasn't tall, wore an old blue cotton jacket, and had her hair tied in a ponytail. She took a step forward, didn't look at anyone else, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

It was a local old folk song about a mountain girl waiting for her lover to return. As soon as she opened her mouth, no one in the room moved. There was no accompaniment, no fancy things, but every note was steady.

After singing the last line, she stood with her head down, her fingers clutching the corner of her clothes.

The room was silent for a few seconds.

"Who taught you this song?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

"My grandmother taught me," she said. "She sang it at the entrance of our village back home for her whole life."

"Why were you willing to come?"

"I think... songs only have meaning if there's someone to listen," she looked up at him. "I don't want to just sing at home."

"Have you ever thought about leaving? I heard some people have been heading south recently."

Yinafuer was silent for a moment. "My family does want to leave. They think it's too cold here and there's no hope."

"If you stay, you might miss other opportunities," he said.

"But if everyone leaves, who will sing for the children who stay?" she asked back.

Shen Xiaochuan smiled. "Your voice can make the whole city quiet down."

He took out his terminal and opened the salary agreement interface. "Fifty faith points per month, paid weekly. The job is recording songs and broadcasting programs. Later, we will equip you with gear and build a recording studio. You are the first one; we will add more people later."

Yinafuer's eyes widened. "That much?"

"It's worth that price," he said. "It's not just about the money. You will become the first diva of 'Voice of Skydome'. The children of this city might remember your voice in the future."

She bit her lip and finally nodded. "I'll stay."

Carl quickly took out the paper agreement, and the three of them gathered around the table to sign. After signing, Shen Xiaochuan stood up and looked out the window. The sunlight shone on the snow, which was a bit bright. White smoke rose from the factory chimneys in the distance, and a fuel-powered vehicle drove past the street corner, its exhaust pipe puffing out mist that quickly dissipated.

Carl began organizing the candidates' profiles, muttering the names of the second batch. Yinafuer stood by, looking at the agreement on the table, her fingers gently touching the place where she had signed.

Shen Xiaochuan stood at the doorway and took one last look at the room. On the wall was a hand-drawn city map, drawn by the children last week. The drawing had houses, trees, the sun, and a small loudspeaker with wavy lines coming out of it.

He walked out. The wind wasn't strong, and the sunlight on his face felt a bit warm. Passing by a small shop, he saw the owner handing a bowl of hot soup to a patrolling guard. The man took the bowl, said something, and both of them laughed.

Before returning to the main control room, he stopped and looked up at the sky. There were fewer clouds, and a corner of the blue sky was revealed.

The terminal vibrated, and a new message popped up: [The renovation plan for the Mother and Infant Branch has been submitted, please approve.]

He opened the file, reading it while walking, his fingers sliding across the screen.

The door pushed open, and the lights were soft. On the big screen, the power was normal, and the five vassal divine domains were connected stably. He sat down and touched the copper gear on his cuff.

Outside on the street, someone began to hum the folk song from earlier.