Chapter 68: The Final Act

No one had expected that Elder Li Pingyi would say such words.

Since the very first Spring Festival Gala in 1980, Elder Li Pingyi had accompanied the gala and its audience for a full thirty-five years, and this would be her thirty-sixth performance. Over more than three decades, people had grown accustomed to rising to their feet as Li Pingyi sang, welcoming the arrival of the new year. Now, her unexpected words left everyone present in shock.

“Teacher Li, what we mean is, after you finish singing, please don’t leave the stage immediately. Instead, introduce this young man and let him have a moment in the spotlight. I think more people should hear this song.”

“Xiao Ma, you’re right. A song this good shouldn’t go unheard. In fact, I know that every year, when it’s my turn to sing, most of the audience has already started tidying up, preparing to stay up for the new year. By the time I finish, many have already turned off the TV. This song shouldn't be wasted. I think we should have the host introduce me, then I’ll say I won’t sing this year and will instead provide backup vocals for someone else. At the very least, this will be something new for the audience, won’t it?”

One had to admit that the older generation of artists valued their art far more than their own fame. They cared little for personal recognition, wishing only that a fitting song would reach as many listeners as possible.

The stubborn elder refused all other suggestions, insisting on giving Wang Lei the opportunity to perform.

In the end, with no other choice, they agreed to Elder Li Pingyi’s proposal. Wang Lei bowed deeply to her, a gesture of respect for her noble artistic virtue.

At this moment, any dissatisfaction Wang Lei had felt had long since dissipated. To protest further would have been unmanly. Now, he was filled with anticipation for the upcoming gala. He resolved to give his best performance on stage, to be worthy of everyone’s support and praise.

The chief director of the gala had not expected that Zhang Laopao and the others would persuade the elder artist so quickly. He knew well the temperament of these old masters, who were intolerant of the slightest compromise. For their sake, Hua Lianfeng felt he had given his all.

Since the main parties had agreed, Hua Lianfeng could only hurry to notify the team and the hosts, and the ceremony for the final performance would have to be revised. As for how Wang Lei would perform, that was no longer Hua Lianfeng’s concern.

After signing confidentiality agreements and collecting their passes, Wang Lei and the others left the central broadcasting building. All that was left was to wait.

New Year’s was upon them again—a time for family reunions, a tradition rooted deep in the blood of the people. Even as the pace of life accelerated and many lamented that the holiday had lost its meaning, when the time came, those who could would still lay out a lavish feast, seat the elders in the place of honor, watch over the children, and for one night, set aside all grievances and frustrations in favor of reunion and familial warmth.

Once again, the gala began promptly at eight. Despite the increasingly lavish stage design and ever more innovative programs, fewer people were willing to watch. The rapid development of the age had broadened people’s access to new information, making them ever more discerning.

It is only after something is lost that we learn to cherish it—a common human fault. As the older generation of artists gradually passed away, people began to reminisce about the galas of years gone by.

In the earliest galas, there were no dazzling stages, no spectacular lighting and sound effects, not even backup dancers. Yet from these simple shows emerged countless classics: from the late master of crosstalk Ma’s solo performances, to the overseas singer Zhang Shuangmin’s “My Motherland’s Heart,” from the late Elder Zhao’s comedic sketches, to the laughter brought by northeastern comic Zhao Yuanshan.

Year after year, the gala produced countless classics, and those who created them were swept away by the tide of time.

Today’s gala boasts the most extravagant costumes and stage design, world-class effects, and big-name stars who capture the eyes of countless young viewers. Yet it lacks that true flavor of the New Year. No matter how sincere or moving the hosts and performers sound, there remains an ineffable something that is missing.

Is it the gala that has grown restless, or is it the people themselves? No one can say for sure.

Whatever the later judgments may be, for now the gala proceeded as usual. This year, compared to previous years, there were more artists from Korea and Japan. After all, the gala’s theme had shifted from a national celebration to a global one. Any country touched by Chinese culture was expected to join in the New Year’s celebration.

Wang Lei sat quietly backstage with Teacher Li Pingyi, waiting for their turn as the final act.

“Young man, is it all right if I call you Xiao Lei?” she asked.

“Of course, Teacher Li. Call me whatever you like.”

“My, you’re so tall. Which school did you graduate from?”

Beyond marveling at Wang Lei’s height, Li Pingyi concluded that this young man was a promising talent—at least, his voice was highly distinctive, a quality essential for a top singer.

“Teacher Li, I’m not a musician. I used to be a basketball player, and now I’m a coach.”

“Oh, no wonder you’re so tall. But what a pity about your voice—it’s quite something. Still, being an athlete is good, and you and Meimei are a good match. Wait, did you just say you’re a coach? You don’t seem very old—how did you become a coach so soon?”

“It’s nothing. Two years ago I was in a car accident and lost a leg, so now I can only coach.”

Wang Lei was not embarrassed as he showed Li Pingyi his prosthetic limb.

Seeing it, Li Pingyi’s eyes reddened. She had not expected that this always optimistic and humble young man had endured such hardship.

“Being a coach is good. Train some outstanding athletes and win us some championships. By the way, is your family here today? Make sure you give your best in front of them—don’t let that song go to waste.”

“My family... I’m the only one left. My parents died in a previous car accident. I was rushing home when my own accident happened.”

Though Wang Lei was reluctant to mention it, he explained anyway. Though it might seem like an appeal for sympathy, it was simply the truth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Xiao Lei. Don’t be sad. From now on, consider me your family. After the gala ends, come home with me—Grandma will make you dumplings.”

Elder Li Pingyi had children of her own, but they all worked overseas. At home, only an old housekeeper and she herself remained. Hearing Wang Lei’s story, she could barely hold back her tears.