Chapter 14

The connection finally began. Just as Old Feng was about to scold the person on the other end for chasing fame and fortune, Xia Wansheng spoke first:

“Old Feng! I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time, and today I finally get to connect with you! Not only have you risen to the pinnacle of the music world through sheer talent, but you’ve also contributed greatly to the preservation of traditional Chinese culture. Truly admirable!” Xia Wansheng recited the pre-written script sincerely.

Workplace toasts are far more complicated than this.

Old Feng, originally brimming with criticism, suddenly lost his momentum but still maintained a stern expression as best he could.

He scanned the face on the other end of the line without any courtesy.

The aura between his brows was not bad; the person seemed steady.

“Let’s hear you sing a bit,” Old Feng waved his hand dismissively.

If the talent wasn’t there, no matter how good-looking, it wouldn’t matter.

The number of viewers skyrocketed in an instant—millions flooded in.

Everyone was waiting to see Xia Wansheng’s embarrassment, hoping that an infuriated Old Feng would tear him apart so badly he’d never dare step into the entertainment industry again.

But Xia Wansheng himself was completely unflustered. He truly couldn’t sing; he could only rely on intuition to perform, so he chose a rather obscure opera excerpt he had heard before.

After Xia Wansheng finished, he noticed that Old Feng on the other end made no move. Thinking it might be a lag on his side, he tentatively asked, “Can you still hear me over there?”

“...”

He could hear, but it might as well have been silence.

Old Feng began to wonder if he was getting senile or if some high-tech software on the other end had achieved flawless mimicry.

He was known for his sharp ear, able to judge a person’s musical talent and whether they could make a living in this field after just one listen.

He had exposed many phony singers using post-production audio tricks during live streams, earning the nickname “Voice Warrior.”

Could this person be mocking him? If he had such talent, wouldn’t his family have noticed?

Feigning calm, Old Feng waved his hand to indicate he was still listening.

“This part is average. Try another piece,” Old Feng said, now fired up, ears pricked to uncover any technological trickery.

But the more he listened, the more stunned he became.

Originally, viewers had come to watch a joke, but after hearing more, they found it surprisingly good, even doubting their own ears.

“Um... why do I think it sounds pretty good? I’ve listened to other singers’ songs before; half of us amateurs are confused.”

“I agree. Though it doesn’t quite feel like the usual single-song loop, it’s still pretty decent.”

“We’re all laymen here. We can’t be as thorough as the professor. There have been talented amateurs in the past streams, but it turned out they had formal training!”

“True. Let’s wait and see what Old Feng says.”

The chat flooded with messages, all hoping Old Feng would declare Xia Wansheng talentless.

Old Feng pondered for a long time. His expression shifted from anger to critical, then shock, and finally silence.

“You really never learned vocal music from anyone else?”

After a long pause, he finally asked for confirmation.

The young man on the other end showed no signs of professional training, hadn’t even protected his voice, yet possessed such excellent timbre and perfect pitch.

This was a rare gem found among the common folk!

After all these years, now nearing the grave, Old Feng was truly witnessing such a talent—a gift from heaven he had yet to claim!

What a waste!

“...Really not,” Xia Wansheng forced calm.

He wondered if he had sung so badly that the master began doubting whether he had been misled before.

Hearing this, Old Feng was inwardly ecstatic, certain he had found a treasure, though outwardly restrained. Clearing his throat, he curtly said, “You can go back for now. I have a few other candidates. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

Then he cut the connection, already overjoyed. As the old saying goes, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

He hurriedly rose, ready to tell his granddaughter that he had “reluctantly” decided to take in this promising student.

His granddaughter was tidying a guzheng when she saw her grandfather approaching. She guessed he probably had just scolded Xia Wansheng harshly and rushed over to soothe him.

“Grandpa, don’t be upset. Tomorrow morning, I’ll run to the park with you a few times. We’ll surely find a suitable final disciple,” she comforted him.

Inwardly, she sighed.

These days, it’s not easy to snatch a genius midway. They all want masters. Any child with talent has been apprenticed since childhood.

You can’t just expect a rare pearl to fall from the sky, can you?

“I’m not keen on those places,” Old Feng said reluctantly, unable to bring himself to be direct, so he hinted, “What do you think of that young man’s talent?”

“I’d only heard of him before. I didn’t intend to push him on you as your disciple.”

“If you don’t want him, we’ll keep looking. No need to get upset. I’ll delete him now!” The granddaughter, eager to show loyalty and end the topic, reached for her phone to delete Xia Wansheng’s contact.

Sorry, superstar, I don’t want to hear about this for a whole month.

“Wait!” Old Feng was frantic.

This was a rare talent. If he disappeared now, where would he find another?

“Don’t delete him. That young fellow does have some skill. I think he’s worth nurturing,” Old Feng tried to hide his admiration.

At this point, the granddaughter finally understood.

So her grandfather wasn’t rejecting Xia Wansheng but rather saw his talent and wanted to take him as a disciple!

“Are you really decided?” she asked, hardly containing her excitement.

Now the old man wouldn’t have to worry every day, lamenting that after all his years, he hadn’t found a promising student.

“All right! Since you like him, I’ll contact him early tomorrow, so this good seed doesn’t get snatched away.”

For the first time, Old Feng used the phrase “worth cultivating.” Previously, when Old Shao brought his juniors asking for guidance, Old Feng had scolded them away.

“Go now, don’t wait until tomorrow!”

Old Feng feared that if he didn’t act quickly, this precious talent would be stolen, and he’d never hold his head high again in front of his old comrades.

He already planned to brag once he successfully taught Xia Wansheng, boasting to his pals about this prodigy who grasped everything instantly.

Those old friends always praised their own disciples’ genius, but now it was his turn to shine!

Meanwhile, the chat, once filled with mockery of Xia Wansheng’s last-minute efforts, slowly shifted. Viewers who had watched the live stream realized they could no longer disparage him; they felt they had witnessed true talent.

“If I could sing like that in the shower, the whole village would chip in to pay for me to go to music school.”

“I thought he really couldn’t sing, but now you’re telling me he was just humblebragging?”

Some who hadn’t watched the stream doubted: “How much money did he pay to clean up his image?”

They skeptically opened the stream recording, scrutinizing it repeatedly.

“...He’s so good at pretending.”

This guy must be humblebragging! Didn’t he say he was looking for a teacher for beginners? Does Xia Wansheng misunderstand what “beginner” means? And perfect pitch? Brother, you don’t really think talent is just handed out with a click, do you?

“Grandpa’s actually quite happy about this connection. Don’t mind him saying he’ll get back to you; old folks often just can’t admit things straightforwardly,” Feng Yue explained.

“As for the rumors before, don’t worry. Grandpa said there’s no way someone this talented would need someone else to ghostwrite even a simple pop song.”

Those were definitely deliberate smear campaigns by the industry, trying to sully Xia Wansheng’s name just because he refused to conform.

The misunderstandings and grievances were countless. How had Xia Wansheng endured all these years?

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong...” Xia Wansheng tried to explain. After all, the original person really couldn’t compose songs—that wasn’t a lie but a candid truth.

But before he could say more, Old Feng quickly interrupted with a grave tone: “Child, I know you’ve suffered these past years.”

With such outstanding talent, ordinary people would have been rolling in money long ago. Yet Xia Wansheng gritted his teeth, hiding his true strength, maintaining a facade as a mere pretty face. There had to be a deeper story.

Old Feng wore an expression of empathetic pain.

He had heard of newcomers tricked into exorbitant contracts, where agencies wouldn’t let go without squeezing every last bit of value.

“When the time comes, let them see what it truly means to be gifted by heaven!”

Xia Wansheng: “...Why do I feel inexplicably fired up?!”

As Xia Wansheng was discussing his study schedule, a message suddenly popped up from his manager:

“Latest news: The production team plans to change this season’s broadcast format.”

At the strong urging of guest Shao Huan, the show would switch from pre-recorded to live broadcast.

“!!!”

Live broadcast—a term ripe for mishaps and perfect for social disasters.

Xia Wansheng stared wearily at the pile of discarded drafts and embarrassing past works left behind by the original owner in the corner, feeling the future was bleak.

If this got exposed, his pure and flawless image would collapse in an instant.

He could only grit his teeth and figure out a way. He built a small fire with branches in the mansion’s backyard, watching the flames slowly consume sheet after sheet of musical notation.

Progress: 1/50... Progress: 32/50...

Xia Wansheng comforted himself: with every piece burned, the five million yuan prize grew more secure.

At that moment, Yu Congyan happened to walk to the window overlooking the backyard and saw the scene.

Xia Wansheng sat opposite the flickering flames, a slender figure, methodically tossing manuscripts and notes full of painstaking effort into the fire, his expression cold. The scores in his hands seemed like a farewell to the past.

As if they would vanish the next second.

“!!!”

Had Xia Wansheng’s mental state really deteriorated to this extent?