Chapter 74

That night, Wu Yuchen didn’t stay; he chatted with Ceng Li for a while, then returned home when the time was right.

Of course he had feelings for Ceng Li, but she was sick, her body so weak—he wouldn’t entertain any extra thoughts at a time like this.

He’d just gotten home, the thermos still in his hand, when his phone rang; the moment he answered, Tu Honggang’s powerful voice came through:

“Brother, is there a TV in front of you? Quick, turn to the variety channel!”

Seeing the TV was airing an ad, Wu Yuchen didn’t hesitate—he switched to CCTV-3 with the remote.

At the time, CCTV’s logo wasn’t the later double-C plus TV design, but a butterfly-shaped emblem with “TV” letters inside.

CCTV-3’s variety channel was currently airing a program called “Huaxia Music TV.”

“...Next, let’s enter the heroic world of martial heroes with a grand, sweeping song: ‘Zhonghua Wuhun,’ performed by Tu Honggang.”

Immediately, the sound of hooves galloping from afar filled the air, and on screen appeared a martial hero riding a horse across the landscape.

But what caught Wu Jianping and Zhou Shulan’s attention was the song information displayed on screen.

“...Composer: Wu Yuchen. Lyricist: Wu Yuchen.”

Meanwhile, viewers watching “Huaxia Music TV” in front of their TVs were drawn in by the clashing metallic tones of traditional Chinese instruments.

But what truly captivated them was the music video—the clarity and production quality utterly dwarfed every previous MV by miles.

Some seasoned viewers instantly recognized it: wasn’t this footage from a movie they’d seen before?

Then Tu Honggang’s bold voice rang out:

“Light coat, long sword, wild horse, wild song,

Loyal heart and righteous spirit, strengthening mountains and rivers.

What a free-spirited wanderer of the martial world,

Daring to stand shoulder to shoulder with emperors.

...”

Watching the heroic, Rexue martial film scenes on screen, hearing Tu Honggang’s soaring, commanding voice, many viewers broke out in goosebumps, their blood surging, an aura of heroism rising spontaneously in their chests.

Especially the male viewers—who hadn’t read martial novels? Who hadn’t watched martial films? Who hadn’t dreamed of roaming the martial world?

Some slapped their thighs and leapt to their feet:

“Truly stirring! How exhilarating!”

“This is martial arts! This is the martial world!”

Others picked up beer, took two gulps, and began reciting poetry:

“With fiery blood I repay my brothers, with a thousand cups of Liejiu I toast to heaven!”

When the song ended, many remained deeply moved—some called the production team, others told friends who shared their taste, but everyone remembered the song and Tu Honggang.

On the phone, Tu Honggang laughed heartily:

“Brother, how was it?”

“Absolutely amazing!”

“I’ll tell you, my cassette from January—‘Bawang Bieji’ and ‘Zhonghua Wuhun’ were the two most popular. When this program reached out, I immediately sent them the ‘Zhonghua Wuhun’ MV.

Once I’ve saved enough money, I’ll definitely make a proper MV for ‘Bawang Bieji’ too!

If you write any more songs suited to me in the future, I’ll pay top price!”

Tu Honggang was clearly thrilled—his comeback, ‘Bawang Bieji,’ had been the most popular offline, and this similar song, ‘Zhonghua Wuhun,’ was no less impressive; more importantly, with the MV, its impact doubled compared to just listening, and now that CCTV-3 had aired it, his performance fees would at least double!

Wu Jianping also felt stirred inside, mainly because the MV paired with the song was so compelling, utterly absorbing. After his son hung up, he asked: “Did you write this too?”

Wu Yuchen explained: “Dad, last semester I helped someone with a documentary—that’s when I made it.”

Wu Jianping nodded. Honestly, he was almost numb—his son had changed so much over the past half-year, even won the Berlin Short Film Golden Bear; writing a song was nothing.

Still, he praised: “Your lyrics are really good.”

“Haha, thanks to your teaching!”

Wu Jianping smiled and shook his head.

Over the next two days, Wu Yuchen returned to school normally, but still visited Ceng Li every day, bringing her meals—mainly because her digestive system was fragile, and he feared outside food wasn’t clean.

But when he came over this day, he saw Ceng Li holding the novel “Liang Jian,” her eyes red.

“What’s wrong?”

Ceng Li shook her head.

Wu Yuchen asked directly: “Where are you at in the book?”

“Xiuqin is dead.”

Wu Yuchen understood—he’d reached the scene where the protagonist’s first wife dies. Xiuqin’s death, Li Yunlong’s shattered heart and weeping at her grave, was one of the book’s most tragic moments; many readers in his past life had cried at this part, so no wonder Ceng Li was in tears.

“Here, eat something first before you cry.”

Wu Yuchen brought out her food, then asked:

“What do you think of the novel? You’re one of the first readers.”

“It’s amazing! I stayed up till midnight yesterday, couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

“But you’re too cruel—Sun Desheng died, Xiuqin died too...”

Listening to Ceng Li’s complaint, Wu Yuchen wasn’t bothered—as long as readers found it compelling, that was all that mattered; it was just like Jin Yong’s “Dragon Knight” plot, which made readers tear up newspapers and curse aloud.

“I don’t want to either, but the story reaches this point, and my mind pushes me to write it this way. Honestly, wartime back then was probably even crueller than what I wrote.”

Ceng Li nodded—she understood that without this, the story would’ve been too flat, she just couldn’t help complaining.

“I just feel so sorry for Li Yunlong—I couldn’t bear watching him weep at her grave.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him something better later.” Wu Yuchen casually reassured her.

“What? Are you going to make Li Yunlong a heartless traitor?!”

“Do you want Li Yunlong to spend his whole life mourning at Xiuqin’s grave?”

Ceng Li shook her head: “I just got here—your saying that makes it hard to accept. Don’t spoil anything for me, it’s annoying.”

But after eating two bites, she couldn’t help asking:

“Will he forget Xiuqin? Which one will he like more?”

Wu Yuchen paused—he realized women thought differently from men; even reading a war novel, they fixated on romance.

“Both, both—he’s not a cold-hearted man!”

“That’s more like it~” In Ceng Li’s mind, if Xiuqin could leave such a deep mark in Li Yunlong’s heart, that was enough.

Wu Yuchen quickly changed the subject: “Did you get your results yet?”

Ceng Li shook her head: “Not yet, but it should be in the next couple of days.”

“Alright, call me when you do—I’ll help you think it through.”

Wu Yuchen still wanted to strongly urge Ceng Li to go to CCTV Drama Academy—she’d end up clashing with Jiang Qin if she went to Beijing Film Academy.