174: Chapter 174 As Wish Fulfilled: National-Level Recognition

The scenes at the hotel were filmed over three days, with progress being one day ahead of Director Ning Yuan's estimation.

This group had spent over a decade honing their craft on the stage, so they actually got into character in front of the camera faster than expected.

For the first two days, Director Ning Yuan held his walkie-talkie and made corrections scene by scene, but by the third day, the frequency had decreased significantly.

Shen Feng's rate of growth was the most outrageous.

For the first two days, he still occasionally slipped into a theatrical tone with slightly exaggerated facial expressions, but by the fourth day, it was as if he were a different person.

Director Ning Yuan even gave him a rare few words of praise.

On the afternoon of September 30th, the production crew moved into the school.

The old props collected by the prop team were all back in place now.

Enamel mugs, a paint-chipped blackboard, and two lines of red slogans posted on the brick wall— "Study hard and make progress every day."

Director Ning Yuan walked around the classroom, kicked a cracked desk with his foot, and nodded.

"Set up the cameras."

This scene was a key turning point in the entire film— Xia Luo travels back in time, pushes open the classroom door, and sees the desks and blackboard from over a decade ago.

There were no long lines of dialogue and no complex blocking.

It was just a person standing at the door, facing a classroom full of classmates.

Shen Feng loosened his wrists in the hallway and took three deep breaths.

"Action!"

The wooden classroom door was pushed open, sunlight streamed in through the windows, and dust motes floated in the beams of light.

Shen Feng stood at the door, stunned for three seconds.

With no lines, he just stood there.

First, there was confusion— his eyes darted around for a moment before landing on that desk in the third row with the missing corner.

Then came disbelief; his lips parted and closed again, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Finally, something indescribable welled up— his eyes turned red, but no tears fell, and instead, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

Three seconds, three layers of emotion, with the transition between each layer clearly discernible.

Director Ning Yuan finished watching the first playback and then watched it a second time.

He took off his headphones, placed them on the table, and gave a thumbs up to Jiang Fan, who was sitting in the corner.

Jiang Fan nodded while holding his thermos.

Director Ning Yuan slapped his thigh and stood up.

"Cut. That's a wrap."

——

Jiang Fan returned to the temporary office area and checked his phone.

Song Siyi had sent a few messages.

[Song Siyi: The number of favorites has surpassed one million. Paid subscriptions have exceeded two hundred thousand.]

[Song Siyi: President Chen specifically called me to his office today and asked me to tell you— you will receive the highest author honor on the site at the end of the year.]

Jiang Fan typed a reply.

[Jiang Fan: I don't need the honor, just ensure the royalties are paid on time.]

[Song Siyi: Screw you, it's at least a gesture of sincerity on their part.]

After a few seconds, another message came through—

[Song Siyi: Readers in the comment section are jointly urging you to update, demanding ten thousand words a day, and some are even threatening to hang banners at the entrance of the headquarters. You'd better keep that in mind.]

Jiang Fan opened the screenshot she sent.

[What is four thousand words enough for! Author, come out!]

[If you don't update ten thousand words a day, I'm going to hang a banner at the entrance!]

[Brothers, charge! Let the author see our sincerity!]

[Author, listen to me, I can skip meals and sleep, but you cannot skip updating.]

After reading, he replied.

[Jiang Fan: Tomorrow is October 1st, I have things to do these next few days.]

There was silence on the other end for a full ten seconds.

[Song Siyi: Are you serious?]

[Jiang Fan: Serious.]

The next few messages came quickly and urgently—

[Song Siyi: Jiang Fan! This is the first week of your new book's release! It's the peak time for traffic! Your buffer of drafts will run out in two days! If you don't update for a few days, the readers will tear the comment section apart!]

[Song Siyi: Do you have any idea how much money you'll lose in subscriptions for every day you don't update?]

[Song Siyi: ...Sometimes you are really hard to understand.]

——

Jiang Fan turned off his phone and wandered alone to the edge of the playground.

In the middle of the playground stood a white concrete basketball hoop, with most of its paint chipped off and the net on the rim long gone.

The autumn breeze blew over, carrying a hint of chill.

His phone vibrated.

It was Xu Qingya.

[Xu Qingya: I have to go on stage tomorrow night.]

[Jiang Fan: Nervous?]

[Xu Qingya: A little. After all, hundreds of millions of people will be watching.]

[Jiang Fan: You've already performed at a concert for seventy thousand people; the National Day Gala is just a change of venue.]

[Xu Qingya: It's different. At a concert, the audience is fans; at the National Day Gala, the audience is leaders.]

Jiang Fan thought for two seconds.

[Jiang Fan: Just pretend everyone sitting in the audience is a fan.]

After about four or five seconds, a voice message came through.

Jiang Fan played it— Xu Qingya's voice had a slight nasal tone. "I miss you."

Jiang Fan stared at the phone for two seconds, didn't reply with a voice message, and typed a line of text.

[Jiang Fan: When you finish performing and come back, I'll throw a welcome party for you.]

[Xu Qingya: Okay.]

——

October 1st. National Day.

The crew didn't take a break; taking advantage of the students' holiday, they filmed as much of the school scenes as possible.

They filmed for a full twelve hours during the day.

At 8:00 PM, Jiang Fan returned to his hotel room and tuned the TV to CCTV-1.

He leaned against the headboard alone, with the remote control placed beside him.

On screen, the stage was a size smaller than a stadium, but the scale was on a completely different level.

The national-level magnitude was evident; every piece of decoration on stage had been measured with a ruler.

The backdrop featured the colors of the national flag, with red and gold intertwined, and the lighting was restrained and solemn.

The audience seats were filled with people sitting upright, and the applause was uniform.

The preceding programs went by one after another— singing and dancing, recitations, and traditional instrumental ensembles.

Xu Qingya's performance was scheduled second to last, right before the finale.

Jiang Fan waited for nearly forty minutes until the host's voice came from the TV— "The next song is an original work highly recommended by the China Civilization Office this year. Lyrics and music by Jiang Fan. Performer— Xu Qingya."

The camera cut to the stage. Xu Qingya walked out from the left side of the stage.

She wore a beige long qipao, fitted at the waist, with the hem reaching her ankles.

Her hair was pulled up, revealing her entire face and the lines behind her ears; no earrings, no necklace, just clean and simple.

She stood still in the center of the stage. The prelude began.

"You are the distant road, the lamp in the mountain fog—"

The large screen behind her simultaneously played the MV produced by the China Civilization Office— black and white footage emerged from old film, showing factories, rice fields, and schools from the early days of the country's founding.

The images moved forward frame by frame, from the fifties to the seventies, from the Reform and Opening-up to the new century.

One generation grew old, and the next generation stood up.

The final set of shots in the MV were aerial views— high-speed trains crossing plains, airplanes soaring into the high sky, and city skylines lighting up in the morning light.

Xu Qingya's voice merged with the images. "The mountains and rivers are safe, the fireworks are ordinary—" "But you look out as you wish—"

As the last line fell, the outro faded away.

Xu Qingya lowered the microphone and bowed to the audience.

Applause rang out. Uniform, long-lasting applause.

The TV screen cut to the audience— in the front row, an elderly man with white hair took off his glasses and wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. Several middle-aged people in formal wear beside him were also applauding.

The applause lasted for nearly half a minute.

This wasn't the screaming of fans, nor the fanaticism of an audience. It was a group of people who were the least easily moved, expressing their recognition in the most restrained way.

Jiang Fan turned off the TV, and the room darkened. In the distance outside the window, there were sporadic sounds of fireworks.

He picked up his phone and opened Weibo. The live broadcast of the National Day Gala hadn't ended yet, but the hot search was already exploding.

#Xu Qingya National Day Gala as you wish# — — Number one on the real-time hot search.

Jiang Fan picked up his phone and sent a message to Xu Qingya. [Jiang Fan: I saw it all. You performed very well.]

The message was sent, but he didn't receive an immediate reply. The backstage of the National Day Gala must be busy.

Ten minutes later, his phone lit up. Xu Qingya replied with one word. [Xu Qingya: Hmm.]

After a few seconds. [Xu Qingya: Wait for me to come back.]