203: Broadcasting sets sail

The sunlight on the snow was a bit blinding. Shen Xiaochuan stood at the entrance of the Cultural Station, the copper gear on his sleeve brushing against his trousers. He looked down at the terminal in his hand; the agreement Yinafuer had just signed was on the screen, her name clearly visible.

He pushed the door open and went in. There were already six people in the room. They were all found by Carl, wearing thick coats, some with their hands in their pockets, others staring at the old map on the wall. The room smelled of heating pipes and a hint of dust.

"Is everyone here?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

Carl looked up from behind the desk: "The last one will arrive in five minutes."

As soon as he finished speaking, the door was pushed open a crack, and a girl in a grey padded jacket poked her head in, her face frozen red. "I'm sorry... the road was too slippery, and I fell."

"Come in," Shen Xiaochuan said. "No rush."

The girl walked to the corner with her head down and stood there. Carl looked at the list: "This is the ninth one, named Lin Xiaoyun, who spent a year in the community choir before."

Shen Xiaochuan nodded. He looked at Yinafuer. She was standing by the window, wearing a dark jacket, her hair tied in a ponytail. Sensing his gaze, she turned to look over.

"Are you ready?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

She nodded: "I can do a trial sing."

"Then do it now," he said. "Sing 'Breeze Turns the Road'. Just pretend there's no one behind you, sing like your grandmother would at the village entrance."

The room suddenly went quiet. Even the sound of the heating pipes seemed to fade.

Yinafuer closed her eyes for a moment, then took a breath. The first two lines were not loud, but very steady. When she sang the third line, "The mountain road winds, the fog won't lift," her breath deepened. The final line, "Waiting for you to walk to the edge of the sky," had a long, trailing note that drifted out gently and slowly faded away.

No one spoke.

After two seconds, Carl put down his pen. He had been taking notes, but the tip of his pen stopped on the paper, and the ink bled a little.

Shen Xiaochuan walked to the wall and pressed the speaker switch. These were temporary wires connected to several speakers on the commercial street.

"Did you record that part?" he asked the Technician.

"Recorded," the Technician nodded. "The file is saved, the signal is clear."

"Play it back," Shen Xiaochuan said.

The singing came through the speakers. It was still 'Breeze Turns the Road,' but cleaner, without any static. Halfway through the song, an old man sweeping snow outside stopped, looked up, and turned towards the sound.

Shen Xiaochuan looked at Yinafuer: "Your voice can carry."

She bit her lip and said nothing.

"Now, let's start the selection," Shen Xiaochuan said, turning to Carl. "One by one, everyone sings a song, a cappella, any song."

The first was the girl who had tried before; her voice trembled, she got stuck halfway through, and her face turned red. Shen Xiaochuan waved his hand, and she hurriedly retreated.

The second had no rhythm, the third didn't have enough breath, and the fourth barely finished but was off-key. The fifth had decent technique, but it sounded like reciting a book, which felt uncomfortable.

It was Lin Xiaoyun's turn. She walked out, crossed her hands in front of her, closed her eyes for a moment, and then began.

She sang a nursery rhyme, an old local tune about watching the furnace fire in winter. Her voice wasn't bright, but it sounded warm, like freshly lit charcoal. When she sang, "The flames jump three times, I see Mother in my dreams," she lowered the final note, which was all the more moving.

Shen Xiaochuan glanced at Carl.

Carl nodded: "She can stay."

The last one was a tall girl named Chen Yue. She sang a short piece adapted from a military song; her voice was powerful but too aggressive, as if it were being hammered out.

"How long do you practice usually?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

"Two hours a day," she said. "I practice in front of the mirror at home."

"Have you ever listened to how others listen to songs?"

She was stunned for a moment.

"Singing isn't for yourself," Shen Xiaochuan said. "It's to let the people sweeping snow outside hear it, to let the women taking care of children in their homes hear it, to let them stop and catch their breath. You are singing too hastily right now, like you're rushing to finish a task."

She lowered her head.

"Try again next time," Shen Xiaochuan said. "You're not eliminated, but you won't be on duty this time."

No one objected. The atmosphere in the room didn't change, and no one felt relieved or sad.

Shen Xiaochuan walked to the center: "Six will stay. Yinafuer, Lin Xiaoyun, Zhang Xiaomei, Zhao Lan, Zhou Ting, Wu Jing. Shifts start tomorrow. The others have another chance next week."

He took out his terminal and opened the payroll: "Fifty faith points per month, paid weekly. One late arrival deducts two points, one absence deducts ten points, and missing two consecutive shifts cancels your qualification."

Carl immediately said: "I'll print the contracts right away, we'll finish signing today."

"Training must also keep up," Shen Xiaochuan said. "Yinafuer, you are the first; from now on, take two afternoons a week to lead the new recruits in vocal exercises. Teach them how to breathe, how to make their voices carry. No need to be complicated, just teach them the most practical things."

Yinafuer nodded: "I can do that."

"Also, don't just stand and sing. Try sitting and singing, walking and singing, even singing while sweeping. Broadcasting doesn't need that stage performance stuff; what it needs is naturalness."

She lowered her head and took notes.

"The working hours are set," Shen Xiaochuan continued. "Nine to eleven in the morning, eight to ten in the evening. Four hours per person per shift, rotating. Arrange your own breaks at noon, but you must ensure you're in good condition."

"Will it be too tiring?" Lin Xiaoyun asked softly.

"No," Shen Xiaochuan said. "Four hours isn't long. You aren't soldiers; you don't need to push your physical limits. The key is stability. If it plays at a fixed time every day, everyone will get used to it. Once they get used to it, they will wait to listen."

He paused: "Right now, many people in the city don't go out, children cry a lot, and the elderly don't sleep well. Your voices are telling them—the sky hasn't fallen yet, and life goes on."

No one spoke.

Carl distributed the agreements one by one. The sound of turning pages was very light. When they signed, the nibs scratched across the paper with a rustling sound.

After signing the last one, Shen Xiaochuan put away the terminal: "Official trial broadcast tomorrow. The first song will still be 'Breeze Turns the Road,' with Yinafuer as lead singer. The others will listen on the side to familiarize themselves with the process."

"Can the signal cover everything?" Yinafuer asked.

"The main network is fine," Shen Xiaochuan said. "The Industrial Zone, commercial street, residential areas, and the five vassal divine domains can all receive it. It might be a bit weaker in remote areas, but it can still be heard clearly."

"What if the power goes out?"

"The backup power can last twelve hours," he said. "The broadcast has the highest priority; unless the entire city loses power, it won't be interrupted."

She nodded.

Shen Xiaochuan checked the time: "I'm going to the control room to check the System."

He walked out of the Cultural Station. The wind was lighter than in the morning. People were shoveling snow on the street, a fuel vehicle drove by slowly, its exhaust pipe puffing white smoke. A small shop on the side of the road opened, and the owner served hot soup to a patrol guard. The man took the bowl, said something, and the two laughed.

As Shen Xiaochuan passed by, he heard them humming a tune. The first few lines were exactly 'Breeze Turns the Road.'

He didn't stop and continued walking forward.

The lights in the control room were on. The Technician was debugging the equipment. The big screen showed the power map, with green lights on in all areas; everything was normal.

"Is the audio signal connected?" Shen Xiaochuan asked.

"Just finished the last test," the Technician said. "The delay is less than 0.3 seconds, basically imperceptible. All speakers are online."

"Broadcasting on time at eight tonight?"

"Yes."

"Shut down non-essential loads. Whatever happens tonight, get the broadcast out first."

"Understood."

Shen Xiaochuan sat at the monitor console and pulled up the city map. Red ripples represented the speaker coverage area, which had already spread across the entire urban area. He zoomed in on the East District and saw that there was also a green dot at the location of the old factory building.

He didn't want to think about the maternal and child branch Anna mentioned.

He opened the communication channel and connected to Carl: "Has the personnel list been uploaded?"

"Just uploaded," Carl said. "The payroll System is synchronized, and the first week's advance payment will be issued automatically at midnight tonight."

"Good. Organize the first group training tomorrow morning at the Cultural Station. Yinafuer will be responsible for leading the singing demonstration, and you two will be present."

"No problem."

After hanging up, he leaned back in his chair and looked at the gear on his cuff. Sunlight shone on the corner of the table, reflecting a ray of light.

It was still bright outside, but the west side had already started to darken.

He walked to the window. Smoke rose from chimneys in the distance, and people were walking on the street. A little boy squatted by the roadside, drawing on the snow with a branch. An adult called out, and he stood up and ran over, humming a song.

Shen Xiaochuan heard it clearly.

It was 'Breeze Turns the Road' again.

He returned to his seat and opened the broadcast countdown program. Three hours and forty-seven minutes until eight in the evening.

A prompt popped up in the lower right corner of the screen: [All speakers self-check completed, waiting for instructions]

He clicked confirm.

Time passed minute by minute. During this time, he received two messages, one from the Azure Dragon Legion reporting on the progress of timber transportation, and the other from the community feedback on stable heating. He only replied "Received" to both.

At 7:55, he got up and walked to the control console.

"Prepare to push audio," he said.

The Technician nodded: "Signal channel locked, power adjusted to maximum."

"Start."

At eight o'clock sharp, the speakers all sounded at once.

The first few seconds were blank, then Yinafuer's voice came through.

Still a cappella.

When the first line rang out, a shopkeeper on the commercial street who was about to close up stopped. He looked up at the speaker under the eaves, didn't close the door, and just stood there listening.

In the residential area, a couple sat under the light holding their child. The woman gently rocked the cradle, the man cocked his ear to listen, and the corners of his mouth slowly relaxed.

In the Industrial Zone guard room, two workers who had been dozing off suddenly opened their eyes. One of them took off his hat, placed it on the table, and listened quietly.

The singing lasted for four minutes and twenty-three seconds. After the last line, there was no applause, no commentary, just blankness. Ten seconds later, a life reminder was broadcast: "The minimum temperature tomorrow will be minus eighteen degrees; please take precautions against the cold when going out. Skydome City Broadcasting Station, see you tomorrow at the same time." The signal cut off, and the control room went quiet.

The Technician looked back at Shen Xiaochuan: "How was it?"

Shen Xiaochuan stared at the screen. Feedback from various districts came in one after another: commercial street listenership 87%, residential area 91%, Industrial Zone 76%. There was also data from the vassal divine domains, generally above 70%.

He didn't speak, just nodded.

Footsteps came from outside the door. Carl pushed the door open and came in, a smile on his face: "Just passed the East Street, a family was standing in the yard listening to the whole thing. The child asked the mother, 'Does that big sister live in the sky?'"

Shen Xiaochuan twitched the corner of his mouth.

"What next?" Carl asked.

Shen Xiaochuan said: "No need to write special content. Just tell the stories you heard when you were a child; as long as they are genuinely remembered, they will have warmth."

"Who will write the content?"

Carl nodded and didn't ask again.

Shen Xiaochuan sat back in his chair, his hand touching the copper gear on his cuff. The data on the screen was still jumping; resident listening status was good, and the emotional index had risen slightly.

Outside the window, the night grew deeper.

The lights of a building in the distance came on. Then another one lit up. Someone turned on the light, someone pushed open the window.

The wind was very light.

A withered branch fell from the eaves, hitting the snow pile with a dull thud.