Volume One, Chapter 33: The Song "Why Not"

Jiang Yu, standing in the audience, couldn’t hold back his laughter. “So hollow”—what a perfect choice of words. As expected of Su Muyu, always able to cut straight to the heart of the matter. If someone lacks culture, she’ll just say it outright. And now it’s “so hollow”—how hilarious.

On stage, after hearing the critique, Wang Linkai’s smile froze instantly. He could only bow slightly and walk off the stage with a dark expression.

The host returned to the stage. “Next up, our contestant—Jiang Yu!”

“Go for it, Yu!” As soon as his name was called, Liu Bin and Guo Qiang immediately cheered him on. “Yu, don’t be nervous. You’ll do great!”

With a gentle smile, Jiang Yu strode forward, his demeanor relaxed. He walked from the performer’s passage toward the stage.

As his figure appeared beneath the lights, a buzz of excited whispers swept through the audience.

“Hey, girls, look—there’s a handsome guy up there!”

“Wow, he’s actually gorgeous! His face is flawless!”

“And that physique—he looks so fresh and full of energy.”

“That smile—he’s absolutely charming. Which company is he with?”

“He’s definitely going to be a star!”

Jiang Yu wore a crisp white shirt and pale blue jeans. Cheerful background music began to play as he stepped into the spotlight, his bright, sunny smile directed toward Su Muyu.

Su Muyu gazed back at that face, which struck her as so remarkably unique.

“The sky looks as if it will rain, and I think I live next door to you.

Standing foolishly beneath your building, I look up and count the storm clouds.

If a piano appeared in this scene, I’d sing for you,

Even if buckets of water came pouring down.”

The light, clean, and spirited music instantly caught everyone’s attention.

“Summer is ending soon—please don’t buy too much ice cream.

When day breaks, don’t wear your short skirts—don’t be so mischievous.”

Hearing these lines, a faint blush crept over Su Muyu’s earlobes. She remembered the words Jiang Yu had spoken that night when he treated her to ice cream: “Only tonight—it’s a special treat.”

Was this song written for her?

“If sometimes you’re not so happy, I’d lend you Gloomy.

You know what’s truly in my heart.”

As Jiang Yu reached this part of the song, the entire audience was utterly absorbed. His singing seemed to hold a magic that swept everyone into a sweet reverie of young love. Some listeners felt as if they’d been transported ten years back, their faces blooming with nostalgic smiles as they revisited those carefree days.

Who hasn’t experienced a secret crush? Back then, life was free from pressure and family burdens. Just catching a glimpse of that special someone, exchanging a word or two, was enough to bring happiness for an entire day.

Unconsciously, smiles spread across the crowd. No one spoke; they simply followed the rhythm, swaying gently, grinning with bashful delight. No one wanted to break the spell. They just wanted to listen quietly.

The song paused briefly, then Jiang Yu’s voice rang out again, entering the most moving part.

“I sing this song for you; it has no particular style.

It simply means I want you to be happy.

I’d thaw frozen rivers for you, become a moth drawn to your flame.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

As the song swelled toward its climax, some in the audience were moved to tears.

The song was sweet—so why did it taste bitter inside?

A boy in the audience found his cheeks wet with tears.

[We promised to come back together after graduation.]

[Alright!] (When I return after college, I’ll finally confess to her.)

[But you never came back after graduation, and I never got to say those words to you…]

A stranger nearby, seeing his tears, patted him encouragingly on the shoulder. He was deeply moved, understanding the song’s meaning, though not as overcome as the young man beside him. He too remembered someone he regretted losing, recalled their past together. But now, it no longer mattered.

He reached for the hand of the woman beside him, smiling with happiness. She rested her head on his shoulder. He had found someone new, started a new life. The regrets of the past were now just passing travelers in his journey.

No youth lasts forever, does it?

The same song, different stories—some wept with regret, others smiled with joy.

It had no particular style, only my blessing for you: I hope you are happy.

The song continued. This time, to everyone’s surprise, the audience joined in. Though it was their first time hearing the song, they quickly picked up its simple melody and lyrics. Simple on the surface, but far from ordinary.

“I sing this song for you; it has no particular style.

It simply means I hope you are happy.

I’d toss and turn for your sake, give up the world for you—why not?

May the lingering warmth at summer’s end color the coming season.”

When the song ended, Jiang Yu bowed to the audience. For a moment, there was silence. Then, as the judges led the applause, a wave of enthusiastic clapping swept the room.

There were no flashy dance moves, no blaring rap—just pure emotion that touched the heart.

“This song…” Song Changying spoke first. She was the most senior figure in the performing arts world; though no longer as popular as before, her authority was unquestioned. She had intended to offer a critique, but found herself lost for words, her eyes slightly red and her nose tinged pink, clearly touched by the song.

What woman hasn’t experienced girlhood? What young girl hasn’t harbored secret yearnings?

“Perhaps the other judges would like to comment first,” she suggested.

Xu Kun took the cue, turning to Jiang Yu. “Honestly, I don’t like this song. It lacks the mainstream elements popular right now. It’s flat, and there’s nothing emotionally stirring about it!”

The entire audience was stunned. How could it not be emotionally stirring?

Jiang Yu sneered inwardly—his earlier suspicions confirmed. People from Stardust Entertainment would never let him get through the competition so easily. And just like that, their performance began.

Xu Kun pressed on, fixing his gaze on Jiang Yu. “You don’t understand what mainstream music is today, or what a song should mean. A song needs a sense of subtlety. Yours is too direct, with only a single scene—like a grade-schooler’s picture story. After listening, I don’t remember any lyrics, just an image. What matters in a song? Memorability!”

“To be frank, I think your song is very cliché. It feels like one of those cheesy tunes from a decade ago. But how many of those songs do people still sing today?”

“So, I cannot give you my vote. Let’s see how you perform in the holding area before we make our decision.”

“That’s all I have to say.” Xu Kun turned with a smile to Su Muyu. “I wonder, Ms. Su Muyu, what are your thoughts?”