Chapter 129: He Turned the Ballad into a Blade

When He Shuyuan wrote this song, he did so from Su Yuanchao’s perspective, singing with the experiences and emotions of Su Yuanchao. It was a kind of open-hearted sadness, and He Shuyuan believed Su Yuanchao could perceive that.

Although Sun Zhe was supporting him behind the scenes, He Shuyuan hoped it was mostly because of the strength of the work itself.

As the song ended, the applause lingered for a long time.

At the client’s table, Su Yuanchao also clapped and nodded approvingly.

He Shuyuan was straightforward; after finishing, he gave a shy smile and bowed before stepping off the stage.

He knew there was almost no suspense in this round. He and Sun Zhe spent two days writing the song, one whole day spent guessing how Tang Zhichu would compose his piece.

Facing Su Yuanchao, there seemed to be only two directions: one was this kind of symbolic thematic approach, the other a critical and satirical one.

He had already written the former. It was impossible for another song of such quality to overshadow his, as folk arrangements usually followed certain patterns.

The critical and satirical route was even more subjective. Would you really want to use Su Yuanchao’s voice to criticize and satirize himself?

So He Shuyuan stepped down from the stage decisively.

The audience didn’t understand this; at that moment, Tang Zhichu’s popularity was at its peak. When Tang Zhichu stepped onto the stage, the spotlight shone down.

The audience was momentarily stunned because Tang Zhichu’s outfit reverted to the simple style from the romance reality show days—loose denim paired with a shirt.

After that brief confusion, applause and screams erupted, though faint shouts of “Chen Siyang” could still be heard.

Tang Zhichu stood in the same spot as He Shuyuan had. He shared a brief glance with Su Yuanchao—just about a second—before closing his eyes.

Opposite him, Su Yuanchao was momentarily taken aback, feeling a bit proud.

He was deeply curious about Tang Zhichu.

Of course, the romance reality show stunt was outrageous in itself, but more puzzling was why such a clever person would choose to get involved.

Everyone was sensible—why bother?

But when the prelude began, and letters appeared on the big screen, Su Yuanchao was stunned.

Not just him; the musicians backstage were also stunned.

“Guo Yuanchao”

Composer: Tang Zhichu

Composer: Tang Zhichu

He Shuyuan’s previous song was symbolic, expressing a feeling, an atmosphere, a kind of solace. Tang Zhichu’s approach was ruthless—he called it Guo Yuanchao, which was basically Su Yuanchao with a different surname.

Could he really write someone’s name explicitly?

Just the song title made some backstage restless.

The prelude wasn’t complicated—guitar, bass, percussion, and drums.

Tang Zhichu only opened his eyes when he started singing, staring intently at Su Yuanchao across from him.

“You say you know their world

Three sad songs buying everything

Buying a place to rest in Kunlun

Letting thoughts roam in Penglai

Buying the disputes of men to brew the wine soup”

Tang Zhichu deliberately lowered his voice and recited slowly.

In just this verse, he directly summarized Su Yuanchao’s most infamous “flipping the table” incident.

Yes, back when Su Yuanchao was doing the Yin-Yang folk music, many said he was just flipping the table because he was full, right?

Backstage, older musicians instantly recognized it and smiled knowingly.

“Damn, little Tang really is little Tang. No wonder he dared to name it Guo Yuanchao. Not calling it Su Yuanchao is already giving old Su some face!”

“Hahaha, I feel like this is a killer blow to the heart.”

“No, he’s just stating facts without adding subjective bias. Keep listening.”

From Su Yuanchao’s perspective, what did it feel like? A dream back to the old days!

Moreover, Tang Zhichu sang it in a more refined, classy style.

Unconsciously, Su Yuanchao straightened up and fixed his gaze on the big screen.

“Buying the crow at the princess’s tomb

The incident at the wood and the hemp by the eastern window

Buying the boats sailing and fishermen’s songs in the Rouge River

The laws of all things in a golden world

You and I alike shall be forgotten

Guo Yuanchao

Your illness is the same as mine

The wind and moon hard to sever, partings and reunions not sordid”

Hearing this, Su Yuanchao’s brow furrowed more tightly. There was a reference here, but before he could digest it, the next line caught his attention.

Why did Su Yuanchao believe good commercial music should be nurtured in national culture? This was his answer—because it’s something no other country’s music could provide: the meaning and imagery of the lyrics.

Hearing Tang Zhichu sing “Guo Yuanchao,” Su Yuanchao genuinely felt as if he was being called out: “Your illness is the same as mine; the wind and moon are hard to sever, partings and reunions not sordid.”

Su Yuanchao smiled bitterly—this was gutsy writing.

Indeed, the wind and moon are hard to sever, and the partings were not sordid. At this point, Su Yuanchao was already a wanderer in the mortal world.

Simply put, life was not well taken care of, nor was art accomplished.

Yet Tang Zhichu used the phrase “your illness is the same as mine.”

This was not only a stylistic technique but also a gesture of respect on a personal level—something Su Yuanchao could understand.

If He Shuyuan’s was symbolic, Tang Zhichu’s was symbolic too, but with a critical edge, while still preserving Su Yuanchao’s dignity.

There was no time to think further before the next lines came:

“The tall tower ultimately misled the youth

Freedom sooner or later confuses the rest of life

You and I didn’t meet before the mountain

Let’s not meet behind the mountain”

When this line ended, Su Yuanchao was completely stunned. The long interlude seemed to give him time to process.

You loved the tall tower and loved freedom, but what about your remaining years?

You and I didn’t meet before the mountain; behind the mountain, let’s not meet.

To Su Yuanchao, this was Tang Zhichu’s proudest stroke—each line piercing directly into his current predicament. The second line even suggested that the friends didn’t want to write this about him, but it was forced upon them.

Like thunder, it echoed in his ears for a long time before Su Yuanchao finally exhaled heavily.

Backstage, more than half the people were dumbfounded.

Several were quietly reciting: “The tall tower ultimately misled the youth, freedom sooner or later confuses the rest of life.”

Frankly, this was a mainstream attitude toward life—live in the moment, and as for the rest of your life? Who cares.

And who were the pioneers of this lifestyle? People like Su Yuanchao’s generation.

But when your present becomes your entire remaining life, is your greatest nostalgia still your freedom?

“Absolutely brilliant, look at Teacher Su’s expression.”

“Hey, this isn’t a song; it’s a killing blade.”

“The tall tower ultimately misled the youth

Freedom sooner or later confuses the rest of life

You and I didn’t meet before the mountain

Let’s not meet behind the mountain”

When Tang Zhichu sang the second verse, there was a brief pause.

Why so much buildup? So that listeners could briefly reflect or be drawn into an emotion.

After the short pause, Tang Zhichu gripped the microphone with both hands and soared two octaves right then and there.

“In truth

You and I are the same

Though destined to be forgotten

Guo Yuanchao

Your illness is the same as mine

The wind and moon hard to sever, partings and reunions not sordid

The tall tower ultimately misled the youth

Freedom sooner or later confuses the rest of life

You and I didn’t meet before the mountain

Let’s not meet behind the mountain

You and I didn’t meet before the mountain

Let’s not meet behind the mountain”

The continuous iconic high notes exploded like a wake-up call to dreamers, sending shivers down everyone’s spine and bringing tears to their eyes.

Don’t be afraid; you and I are the same.

The wind and moon are hard to sever; partings and reunions are not sordid.

Not just the audience—Su Yuanchao himself was brought to tears.

Although Tang Zhichu’s pride made him feel somewhat ashamed.

Especially the repeated lines “You and I didn’t meet before the mountain, let’s not meet behind the mountain.”

To Su Yuanchao, this was Tang Zhichu saying he knew all the messy things behind the scenes.

Since we didn’t meet before the mountain, let’s not meet behind it either.

Su Yuanchao was overwhelmed and couldn’t compose himself. He hadn’t expected a folk song to possess such power—like a rich, potent rock anthem.

Backstage, someone took the lead, and a group of young musicians began making gestures of reverence.

This was Tang Zhichu’s answer to everyone’s doubt.

Someone whispered, “He turned folk music into a blade.”

(End of chapter)