Volume One, Chapter 16: A Song from the Southern Mountains Elevates Folk Music to a New Level!

At first listen, Lu Yaoyao’s new song had a certain allure, but on closer examination, its flaws became evident. Occasional off-key moments and chaotic rhythms caused many to frown in disapproval. Worse still, beneath the stage lights, she appeared visibly flustered, clearly struggling to recall the lyrics. Her panic led to breaks in the melody, and what should have been a dazzling performance unexpectedly devolved into a minor on-stage mishap.

“Yaoyao, what’s wrong?” Alian’s anxious voice echoed in her earpiece.

Lu Yaoyao had no chance to reply and could only plunge into silence.

“I understand. I’ll have Deng Chengqi cover for you and sing the chorus. Then, you can shift the blame onto her.” Alian, seasoned and quick-witted, immediately dispatched a girl with a cute face and pouty lips onto the stage.

The girl took the microphone, and as she began the chorus, her soaring vocals instantly captured the attention of the entire audience.

Meanwhile, Lu Yaoyao, her face tense with embarrassment, gritted her teeth and followed Alian’s instructions. A misstep nearly sent her tumbling to the ground.

As the high notes faded, the music stopped.

The venue was enveloped in silence.

“What happened?”

“Yeah, it sounded off just now, didn’t it? Or maybe I misheard?”

“And there were two seconds of dead air…”

“Something’s off. She was singing perfectly at first, then suddenly…”

“No way, Yaoyao’s a professional singer—our idol! How could she make such a rookie mistake?”

“Anything’s possible. Even the kings of music forget their lyrics sometimes!”

The audience’s fans began to murmur among themselves.

Lu Yaoyao stood rooted in place, her mind a blank. Only when Alian’s voice returned in her earpiece did she turn and retreat backstage.

Then, the girl sent up as a scapegoat, Deng Chengqi, walked to the edge of the stage and gave a deep bow.

“I’m sorry. The mistake just now was entirely my fault.”

“I took over the chorus, which disrupted Yaoyao’s rhythm. I apologize to all the fans—it’s me who let you down!”

As the girl apologized, the fans continued discussing fervently.

The concert reached its intermission.

Some bored fans took out their phones and opened Weibo. What they saw startled them: the silhouette of the White Elephant Mask waving from the stage next door sent them into a frenzy.

“Oh my god, he’s at the neighboring stadium—the White Elephant god is here, and he’s singing a new song?”

“Is that for real?”

“Damn right it’s real!”

“What’s the song called?”

“I think it’s called ‘South Mountain South’—such a peculiar name, must be a folk song.”

“Folk song? Then forget it.”

“No loss not being there. Who listens to folk music these days?”

“Exactly. Yaoyao switched genres years ago. Folk songs are for small bars, not for concert halls. Even the White Elephant god can’t make it work, I’m telling you!”

During the intermission, Lu Yaoyao’s devoted fans began discussing the Oriental Group’s concert next door. Originally excited about the White Elephant god, they lost all interest upon hearing it was a folk song.

…

On the other side, Su Le stood on stage and waved.

“A song called ‘South Mountain South,’ folk music, for everyone!”

“I hope you’ll like it!”

“Once, someone said folk songs aren’t fit for the stage. But through this song, I want to show you that folk music isn’t just about the people; it embodies the unique traditions of our fifty-six ethnic groups, each verse narrating a story that resonates within us. That is folk music!”

As Su Le finished speaking, the hall quieted.

The background music began, soft and gentle.

Yet the fans in attendance seemed disappointed.

They had hoped the White Elephant god would surprise them, but it turned out to be only a folk song.

There was no fiery passion of rock, no emotional highs of pop, nor the bittersweet longing of love songs—it seemed fit only for lulling one to sleep.

“A folk song… I thought it would be another masterpiece!”

“What a letdown.”

“Yeah, I hoped he’d sing ‘Big Fish,’ or at least a pop song. Folk music will make me drowsy.”

“A folk song at a concert… tsk tsk, it doesn’t fit the style at all.”

“It’s awkward, really awkward. Can it even get the crowd going? Folk songs are for middle-aged people, aren’t they?”

“Alright, alright, let’s give the White Elephant god some credit—guess I’ll make do and listen.”

“Yeah, having the god sing us a lullaby is a kind of pampering, isn’t it?”

“Sister, your logic is wild!”

“Folk music can be beautiful too—don’t be so discouraged.”

“Exactly, let’s listen and see!”

The fans’ enthusiasm was subdued, as if the earlier excitement had plummeted into a trough.

Chen Tianxiong observed and sighed, convinced Su Le’s choice of folk music was a sign of inexperience.

But Su Le cared little.

After his divorce, he no longer needed to please anyone or cater to their moods.

If none appreciated it, he would sing for himself.

As the music filled the hall, Su Le picked up the microphone and began softly,

“You are in the southern sunshine, where snow falls thick and heavy.”

“I am in the northern night winds, where spring reigns all year.”

At first, the reaction from below was lukewarm, the fans’ faces indifferent. They exchanged glances, silently questioning whether this performance was worth their anticipation.

Su Le’s voice reached every corner of the venue, gentle as the morning’s first light.

Gradually…

The emotions woven into his voice surged like a tide, warm and powerful.

Every word and line of the lyrics seemed to tell a story spanning time and space.

Those who had harbored dissatisfaction were slowly drawn in by this force, falling silent.

As the song progressed, Su Le’s voice grew more heartfelt and captivating.

He seemed immersed in the world his song created—the southern sunshine and northern chill entwined in his singing, painting vivid scenes.

The audience began to be moved by the pure charm of the music.

They set aside their preconceptions and listened with their hearts, feeling a resonance from deep within.

“South Mountain South, northern autumn’s sorrow, South Mountain with heaps of grain.” Su Le raised his head and sang the high notes.

When the chorus arrived, something subtle shifted in the atmosphere.

At first, only a handful sang along—but soon, it blossomed into a sea of voices. The simple yet soul-stirring melody infected them all, drawing everyone into the chorus.

As Su Le’s clear, penetrating voice pierced the air, “Southern breeze whispers, North Sea north, North Sea with gravestones,” the lyrics seemed to become invisible threads, quietly tugging at the heartstrings of everyone present.

The fans’ eyes softened, grew distant; some closed their eyes, lost in swirling memories.

Others gazed at the figure bathed in radiant light, wearing a faint smile, their hearts stirred by an unnameable warmth.

In that moment, every person’s hidden stories were awakened by the song.

For some, “South Mountain South” was more than a direction.

It spoke of youthful innocence, of love unblemished, and of dreams battered by reality’s cruel edge.