31: Chapter 31 Music Doesn't Need Your Definition

Inside the rehearsal hall, there was only the rustling sound of turning music scores.

Jiang Fan sat on a folding chair, his gaze sweeping over the seven musicians.

Three minutes passed; no one spoke, but the disdain on everyone's faces had vanished.

"Finished reading?" Jiang Fan asked.

The seven people looked up.

"Let's run through it. Start the intro."

The guzheng player flexed their fingers and put on their finger picks.

Left hand pressed the strings, right hand plucked.

A crisp pentatonic scale rang out in the spacious factory building.

Immediately after, the bamboo flute cut in.

"Stop." The sound ceased abruptly.

He looked toward the bamboo flute player in the corner.

"Third measure, the accidental. You played it a quarter-tone too high."

The bamboo flute player froze.

He had indeed wavered slightly in his breath control, but such a minute pitch deviation, without other instruments as an absolute reference, was almost impossible for the human ear to detect.

"Again." Jiang Fan didn't waste any words.

The second time.

The intro progressed smoothly. The electric guitar and electronic drums cut in at the fourth measure.

The cold clarity of folk music and the heaviness of electronic sound collided in the air.

The transitional chords Jiang Fan had embedded in the Arrangement acted like lubricant, perfectly locking the two distinct musical systems together.

The atmosphere in the rehearsal hall changed.

The musicians, who had originally just been working for the money, all sat up straight now.

They were professionals; naturally, they could hear the value of this Arrangement.

"Chorus, come in." Jiang Fan leaned close to the microphone.

Master-level singing technique engaged.

"The sky turns azure after the rain, and I am waiting for you."

"Cooking smoke curls and rises, across the river, thousands of miles away."

The instant Jiang Fan's voice came out, the drummer hitting the electronic drums twitched his wrist, missing half a beat.

The erhu player opened their eyes abruptly, the bow nearly scratching out a discordant noise.

Li Cheng leaned against the wall; the cigarette he had just lit burned down to his fingers, but he was completely unaware.

This voice, this enunciation.

There was no deliberate affectation of Opera-style vocal technique, no piling up of so-called ancient-style vocal runs.

It was the purest pop singing style, yet every word that fell carried its own imagery—green mountains, misty rain, the cooking smoke across the river, all contained within the sound.

The transition between true and falsetto voice was seamless, and every trailing note was handled cleanly and crisply.

The song ended.

The rehearsal hall was deathly silent.

The guzheng player rested their hands flat on the strings, their gaze toward Jiang Fan having completely changed.

From suspicion, it had turned into admiration.

"Teacher Jiang." The guzheng player changed their form of address. "Is the Arrangement for this song something you did all by yourself?"

"Yes. Any problems?"

"No problems." The guzheng player shook their head. "I've played the guzheng for ten years, and this is the first time I've seen someone combine folk music and pop so thoroughly. This song could win a Golden Melody Awards."

Jiang Fan didn't respond, looking down at his watch.

"Just now the drummer missed half a beat, and the erhu came in a quarter of a second late. Continue. If we don't finish smoothing this out today, no one is leaving."

For the next three days, the rehearsal hall became a living hell for these seven musicians.

Jiang Fan's demands for detail were extremely obsessive.

A single breath, a single overtone—if it didn't meet his standards, they started over.

No one complained.

On the third night, the final rehearsal ended.

Li Cheng tossed a bottle of mineral water to Jiang Fan.

"What kind of monster are you, anyway? This song, 'blue and white porcelain'—lyrics, composition, Arrangement, all by you alone? Which company were you hiding in before?"

"Tianyu Media." Jiang Fan picked up his backpack.

Li Cheng was stunned: "Tianyu? That company Xu Qingya is in? You signed with the lyrics and composition department?"

"The security department."

Jiang Fan slung his guitar over his shoulder and pushed open the iron door of the rehearsal hall.

Li Cheng stood there, unable to snap out of it for a long time.

He pulled out his phone and opened Shen Nian's WeChat.

"For tomorrow night's recording, you'd better come and see for yourself. I guarantee you've never seen a scene like this in your entire life."

The reply came instantly.

"Okay."

Friday, 8:00 PM. Tencent Video headquarters studio hall.

The recording of the third episode of "Tomorrows Star" officially began.

In the backstage lounge area, the atmosphere was much more oppressive than the previous episode.

For the vast majority of contestants accustomed to pop and R&B, the National Style theme was a disaster.

Zhao Tianyu sat in front of the vanity mirror, letting the stylist adjust that custom-made Hanfu worth fifty thousand.

His manager stood to the side, holding a cup of iced Americano.

"I've found out. Jiang Fan found a few freelance musicians and rehearsed for three days."

Zhao Tianyu looked at himself in the mirror, the corners of his mouth curling up.

On stage, the recording had already reached the halfway point.

Teacher He held the cue cards, his voice resonant.

"Next, let's welcome the Solo Track contestant, Zhao Tianyu!"

Zhao Tianyu walked onto the stage. The lights dimmed, and white mist created by dry ice spread across the stage.

The intro began, with chime bells, big drums, and guzheng interweaving, creating a majestic momentum. The big screen displayed the song title: "Song of the Long March."

Zhao Tianyu wore Hanfu, holding a folding fan, and deliberately added a large amount of Opera-style vocal technique runs into his singing.

The lyrics were piled with words like "waning," "heartbroken," "the world," and "backbone," sounding extremely ornate.

Once the song was finished, the audience erupted into enthusiastic applause.

On the judges' panel, Hua Xingyu led the applause, his face full of admiration.

"Fantastic." Hua Xingyu picked up the microphone. "This is what National Style is! A grand Arrangement, profound cultural heritage, plus your perfect Opera-style vocal technique performance. Tianyu, you have raised the threshold of National Style to a whole new level!"

Hua Xingyu gave a score of 100 directly.

Xue Zhiheng frowned and gave 90 points. Xu Qingya was expressionless and gave 80 points.

Adding the votes from the public judges, Zhao Tianyu's total score was 750, temporarily ranking first in the venue.

Teacher He returned to the stage, glanced at the cue card, and raised his voice by half a degree.

"Next, let's welcome Shenghai Entertainment's Lu Ming!"

The stage lights changed abruptly.

Lu Ming's stage made everyone realize what "no budget cap" meant.

Behind the stage, the lift platform rose slowly.

A full thirty-person symphony orchestra, plus a twelve-person folk music ensemble, appeared impressively before the audience's eyes.

Holographic projections of peach blossom petals falling filled the sky.

Lu Ming stood in the center of the stage, singing a song called "Jiangnan Rain."

The Arrangement was extremely complex, with various instruments taking turns, showcasing skills to the extreme, forcefully using money to create an auditory storm.

The song ended, and the atmosphere at the venue was pushed to a climax.

Hua Xingyu stood up directly, clapping forcefully.

"Perfect! Lu Ming, your stage presentation is phenomenal!" Hua Xingyu did not stint on his praise. "Top-tier Arrangement combining Chinese and Western elements, a massive band structure—this is what respect for music is! This is the correct configuration for National Style to go global!"

He gave 100 points without any suspense.

Xue Zhiheng gave 92 points, and Xu Qingya gave 88 points.

The public judges' voting concluded, and the numbers on the big screen froze.

Lu Ming's total score—768 points!

It directly refreshed the highest score record since the show began airing.

The barrage comments completely exploded.

"Holy crap! Shenghai Entertainment is too ruthless. How much must this stage design and band cost?"

"Thirty symphony musicians plus twelve folk musicians? Did they move the National Centre for the Performing Arts here?!"

"It's over. With Zhao Tianyu and Lu Ming, these two great mountains, pressing down in front, what does Jiang Fan have to fight with?"

In the contestant seating area, Lu Ming walked off stage, high-fived his manager, and swept a provocative gaze toward Jiang Fan's direction.

Two great mountains stood in the way.

The anticipation and sense of oppression in the venue reached its peak at this moment.

Jiang Fan wasn't wearing his eternal black T-shirt today.

Xu Qingya had picked out a perfectly tailored shirt with blue and white porcelain patterns for him.

Without any extra accessories, his whole person exuded a cold, crisp quality.

Jiang Fan walked toward the passageway. Behind him, seven musicians carrying instruments followed.

This scene was caught on camera, and the whole venue was in an uproar.

The barrage comments exploded instantly.

"Holy crap? Brother Xiao Chou brought a band?"

"Guzheng, erhu, bamboo flute, plus electric guitar and drum kit? What kind of hellish combination is this?"

"It's over, it's over. Folk music plus electronic sound—this is the standard configuration for a National Style car crash!"

Jiang Fan walked to the center of the stage. The seven musicians took their respective seats behind him.

Hua Xingyu sat on the judges' panel, watching the formation on stage, and couldn't help but pick up the microphone.

"Jiang Fan, let me remind you. National Style isn't about moving all folk instruments onto the stage for a big, messy stew. Music needs focus and restraint. Your configuration is very likely to backfire."

Hua Xingyu's tone carried the instruction of an elder; it seemed well-intentioned, but in reality, it was planting a psychological suggestion in the audience that "this song will be very messy."

Jiang Fan stood before the microphone, adjusting the height of the stand with one hand.

He looked toward Hua Xingyu.

"Teacher Hua." Jiang Fan's voice carried through the speakers across the venue. "Music doesn't need you to define it."

The whole venue gasped.

Too arrogant.

An amateur, directly contradicting a Star Mentor on the recording set.

The smile on Hua Xingyu's face froze, and his eyes instantly turned gloomy.

Jiang Fan ignored him further, turning his head to look at the band behind him, nodding slightly.

The lights went out completely.

Only a single spotlight remained, shining on Jiang Fan.

On the big screen, three calligraphy characters slowly emerged.

"blue and white porcelain."