PS-Chapter 172 Love Again

You can read ahead up to 30 chapters on my patreon and I've also activated (date to date) subscription model on my patreon https://www.patreon.com/darkshadow6395

The rise and evolution of mainstream music in China have always been closely tied to the pulse of the times.

Mainstream music first flourished in the 1950s and '60s, when the nation was newly founded, brimming with hope and energy. Society was infused with a sense of vitality, and songs that captured the era's spirit emerged in abundance, creating numerous timeless classics.

By the 1970s and '80s, as the country underwent economic reforms and opened its doors to the world, prosperity followed. People's material lives improved significantly, and mainstream music adapted to the changing times, producing a wave of renowned young artists— many of whom remain industry veterans today.

However, moving into the new millennium, mainstream music, much like folk and pop, saw a decline in standout classics. The style became formulaic, with repetitive melodies and little innovation, gradually losing its once-dominant influence.

Despite this, from a political and cultural standpoint, mainstream music has remained resilient. Major national celebrations— such as National Day, Army Day, and Victory Day— continue to feature patriotic and ideological anthems as their centerpiece.

For instance, Capital City TV's 2015 National Day Gala featured 15 musical and dance performances, making up 70% of the entire program, with 11 of them being traditional mainstream pieces.

Viewership ratings were never a concern for this kind of event.

Lu Chen had been brought in as a last-minute replacement. So when Gu Rui deliberately assigned him a mainstream song, he instantly recalled numerous iconic anthems from the dream world's memories.

There were simply too many excellent choices— any one of them would have left a lasting impression.

In fact, 'I Love You, China' had two versions. Aside from the one he had just performed, the other was arguably more well-known and aligned more closely with the traditional mainstream style.

However, after careful deliberation, Lu Chen chose this particular version.

The reason was simple: it fit both his artistic identity and vocal style.

While the other version was a recognized classic, its composition, lyrics, and vocal approach vastly differed from his usual works.

This rendition of 'I Love You, China' had a smooth, emotionally charged melodic progression. It employed a dynamic rise-and-fall structure, weaving together gratitude, devotion, love, and blessings for the homeland.

Even though the rushed arrangement left much to be desired, Lu Chen poured his heart into every lyric, every note.

The repeated lines—"'I Love You, China', beloved mother, I cry for you and feel proud of you!"—grew more powerful with each refrain, intensifying the emotional impact.

For the audience present, their first reaction was sheer surprise.

They had never heard a patriotic song quite like this before!

Lu Chen's 'I Love You, China' wasn't the traditional, rigidly structured mainstream anthem. Instead, it leaned toward pop, seamlessly incorporating elements of light rock. The fusion gave it a fresh, modern appeal.

More importantly, his performance resonated on a deeply emotional level.

There was no doubt— this was a great song.

Even Gao Zhixue, who had been skeptical at first, was thoroughly captivated. The imperfections in the arrangement no longer mattered— he found himself nodding along to the melody, caught up in the song's rhythm.

He didn't even notice when Gu Rui had appeared beside him.

It was only after Lu Chen finished singing that the studio erupted into applause.

Though the audience was small— just a few hundred people— the atmosphere was electric, with many standing to cheer.

Gu Rui, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, turned to Gao Zhixue and asked, "Director Gao, what do you think of this song?"

Recommending Lu Chen had been a gamble, but it had paid off. Lu Chen hadn't let him down— he had made him proud!

Gao Zhixue snapped back to reality and, upon seeing Gu Rui, smiled. "Not bad. This song… Lu Chen didn't write it himself, did he? I've never heard it before."

If it had been an existing piece, there was no way he wouldn't have recognized it.

Gu Rui nodded. "Yes, he wrote it."

Gao Zhixue sighed in admiration. "Young talents these days are truly impressive. Every generation outshines the last!"

As he spoke, he failed to notice the subtle change in expression on the face of Lu Zhengzhi, who was seated to his right.

Lu Zhengzhi frowned slightly before reaching out and tapping the microphone in front of him.

Puff! Puff!

He leaned forward and asked, "Friend, did you compose this song yourself?"

Lu Chen answered firmly, "Yes."

A low murmur spread through the audience as they exchanged nods and whispered praises for his talent.

Lu Zhengzhi shifted in his seat, straightened his back, and spoke in a measured but authoritative tone. "Friend, your lyrics are acceptable, and your creativity is commendable. However, the style doesn't quite align with the tone of the National Day gala. We may need to reconsider it."

What?

Both Gao Zhixue and Gu Rui, along with several Capital City TV staff members, were caught off guard.

Not suitable for the National Day gala? What kind of reasoning was that?

Sensing the confusion, Lu Zhengzhi clarified, "What I mean is, it lacks the defining characteristics of a mainstream patriotic anthem. It sounds too much like a typical pop song."

His explanation left Gao Zhixue momentarily speechless. Wasn't this just nitpicking?

Gu Rui, on the other hand, turned visibly agitated, his face flushing red.

As the music director of Capital City TV, Gu Rui had high regard for both Lu Chen and his song 'I Love You, China'.

While it didn't fit the rigid mold of traditional patriotic anthems, the melody and lyrics were outstanding— it was a fresh, innovative take on mainstream music.

And if mainstream music was fading into irrelevance, wasn't precisely this kind of innovation necessary to revitalize it?

How could it be dismissed so easily?

Gu Rui, known for his blunt personality, was ready to argue.

But before he could, Gao Zhixue subtly gestured for him to hold back and turned to Lu Zhengzhi. "We'll reconsider this song," he said tactfully, "or perhaps select another one that's more suitable."

Gu Rui clenched his fists, clearly displeased.

While Lu Zhengzhi held a higher rank, he was from CCTV, not Capital City TV. Overriding a program like this was as good as a public slap in the face.

However, CCTV did hold a supervisory role over Capital City TV in several respects, and since Lu Zhengzhi was here in that capacity, his input couldn't be outright ignored. Confronting him head-on would be unwise.

Meanwhile, Lu Zhengzhi, sensing the shift in dynamics, leaned back in his chair with a faint smile.

After all, he hadn't come here just to sit in silence— he needed to make his presence known.

The focus shifted back to the stage.

Lu Chen was still standing there.

Among the staff who had been acting as the audience, several exchanged glances, their expressions laced with sympathy.

A situation like this would have left most newcomers flustered— being rejected so publicly was humiliating.

But what no one expected was that Lu Chen's expression remained unchanged.

There wasn't the slightest trace of frustration or disappointment.

After a brief pause, he raised the microphone again and said calmly, "Director Gu, Director Gao, and Director Lu— actually, I have another song that might be more suitable. Would it be alright if I performed it now?"

Huh?

Another song?

For a moment, even Lu Zhengzhi looked surprised.

He turned toward Gao Zhixue, his brows knitting slightly in displeasure.

If this had been a CCTV gala rehearsal, he would have rejected the request outright.

A no was a no. If every performer who received criticism demanded a second chance, where would it end? It would set a bad precedent.

Not to mention, Lu Chen's direct appeal could even be interpreted as a challenge to authority.

But this wasn't CCTV. This was a Capital City TV event. Overstepping his bounds again would make it seem as though he didn't respect Gao Zhixue's authority.

So instead, he subtly signaled with his expression— this decision was up to Gao Zhixue.

Gao Zhixue felt as if a stampede of wild horses was thundering through his mind.

As the editorial director, he wasn't the type to be easily pushed around—everyone had their limits. Even a clay figurine, when provoked, would crack.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he made a decisive call.

"Lu Chen, go ahead and sing another song!"

Strictly speaking, this wasn't standard procedure. But this was Capital City TV, his domain— he couldn't allow himself to be completely overshadowed.

Too many people were watching.

If he backed down now, how would he maintain his authority?

The tension in the room subtly shifted.

Gu Rui's expression brightened, and he quickly asked, "Lu Chen, do you need to step down and prepare first?"

He was genuinely concerned that Lu Chen might not be ready for an impromptu song change. If he fumbled, it would be a disaster.

The last thing Gu Rui wanted was for Lu Chen to miss such an important opportunity.

But Lu Chen simply smiled, radiating quiet confidence. "Thank you, leaders. Thank you, Director Gu. I can perform this song a cappella."

Something about that smile was infectious.

Gu Rui, who had been tense just moments ago, suddenly felt a sense of reassurance.

"Alright then."

Lu Chen nodded in acknowledgment.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the microphone and announced, "This song is also my original work. It's called— 'I Love You, China'!"

…What?

The entire studio froze.

For a split second, people wondered if they had misheard.

Hadn't Lu Chen just performed 'I Love You, China'?

Why was he singing it again?

Was this some kind of mistake?

Lu Zhengzhi let out a sharp "Ha!" of disbelief.

Both Gao Zhixue and Gu Rui stiffened.

The confusion rippled through the room.

"Did I hear that right?"

"Wait, is he repeating the same song?"

"Did he slip up?"

"Is Lu Chen confused, or are we?"

"Heh… this is getting interesting."

Yet, while murmurs spread and the leadership's expressions ranged from puzzled to doubtful, Lu Chen remained completely unfazed.

He opened his mouth—and began to sing.

This time, a brand-new melody, a different 'I Love You, China', flowed from his lips.

"The lark soars in the vast blue sky,

'I Love You, China'—

'I Love You, China', 'I Love You, China'—

I love your sprouting seedlings, your golden autumn harvest,

I love your steadfast pines, your crimson plum blossoms,

I love the sugarcane from my hometown, sweet as milk that nourishes my heart—"

The moment Lu Chen sang the opening line, his voice clear and pure, the entire venue fell into stunned silence.

—

(End of Chapter)