Huayu 1992: Starting with the CCTV Young Singers Competition

Chapter 8 continues the new chapter

The two were talking as they walked out of the CCTV building.

A summer night in May.

A cool breeze blew by, dispelling the stuffiness of the body.

The streets felt strangely empty.

The once bustling Chang'an Avenue extension, usually teeming with traffic during the day, is now only graced by the occasional bicycle bell ringing as it passes by.

The air was filled with the faint fragrance of locust blossoms.

And of course, there's that damned willow catkin.

"Achoo... Achoo!"

Lin Hanjiang and Zhang also sneezed at the same time.

The two walked side by side to the bus stop.

The platform was very simple, with a green-painted iron pole supporting a white sign with black lettering, casting a long, slanted shadow under the lonely streetlight.

The long cement bench was empty.

It was just the two of them, along with a few moths that were tirelessly fluttering around the lampshade.

In this day and age, taking a taxi is still quite expensive.

The mainstream price for taxis in Kyoto is 10 yen for 10 kilometers, and then 1 yen per kilometer thereafter. The main type of vehicle is the "mian te", which is a yellow van.

At that time, pork was only 1.5 yuan per jin (0.5 kg), and 10 yuan could buy more than six jin of pork.

Since we're both in Chaoyang, it's not far to take the bus back.

That way, we can avoid wasting money.

Lin Hanjiang gazed at the empty streets, his mind racing with calculations.

It's estimated that CCTV won't pay too much in copyright fees.

Even with Teacher Kim's intervention.

It still depends on the prize money from the finals, that 5000 yuan.

Copyright awareness was low in those days, and prices were relatively cheap.

Most of the time it's given away in a one-time payment. If you're friends in the Beijing circle, they might just give it to you directly.

We men have our pride.

Lin Hanjiang only wanted money.

In Guangzhou, people have a stronger awareness of copyright.

But it wasn't much better, considering everyone's salaries are what they are.

With a monthly salary of around 200 yuan, most people don't even reach that amount.

Copyright fees range from a few hundred to several thousand, and some even cost tens of thousands of yuan.

Without clear circumstances, the price will be determined by the brand's reputation.

So Lin Hanjiang planned to contact them after winning the CCTV Young Singers Competition and sell them the copyrights to a few songs.

Once you have real start-up capital, things will be much easier.

In the distance, two dim headlights pierced the night as the car slowly approached.

Accompanied by the distinctive sputtering sound of an old diesel engine, a large bus slowly pulled up in front of the station.

The Yellow River brand BK670 bus is an articulated bus developed by Kyoto Bus Factory No. 4 in 1976.

It was the main type of bus in Kyoto from the 70s to the 90s.

The car body was painted in red and white stripes, but in many places it was peeling and chipped, revealing the dark metal underneath.

The car windows were large, and some of them had faded promotional slogans or route maps pasted on them.

The car doors are folding, and they make a "creak-puff" sound when they open and close.

Lin Hanjiang and Zhang quickly got into the car.

The driver was a middle-aged man wearing arm sleeves, looking tired, and he glanced at them with little expression.

The coin box is made of sheet metal, and the coins make a crisp "clanging" sound when they are inserted.

Besides the driver, there were two migrant workers huddled in the back corner of the bus, dozing off while hugging woven bags.

There were also about a dozen female workers in overalls, who looked like they had just finished their night shift, resting by the window with their eyes closed.

In every era, there are people who quietly dedicate themselves to the city.

In later generations, people used the term "livestock" to describe it.

Lin Hanjiang disliked this term, after all, livestock wouldn't be easily dismissed.

These are all important means of production.

Lin Hanjiang and Zhang Ye casually found empty seats and sat down.

The seat springs are probably a bit worn out, as they make a slight creaking sound when you sit down.

The car wasn't going fast; it was swaying and rocking.

Perhaps they were both tired, and they rested with their eyes closed.

The bus screeched to a halt at the station near the China Conservatory of Music.

They had informed the driver beforehand to call them when they arrived at their destination.

The two got off the bus and returned to the campus.

"I'll head back to my dorm now. You should get some rest too."

Zhang also lives in the faculty and staff dormitory area, which is in a different direction from Lin Hanjiang's student dormitory.

The rooms in the faculty and staff dormitory area are spacious, with one bedroom, one living room, and one bathroom, totaling about forty square meters.

Lin Hanjiang was incredibly envious when he visited Zhang Ye.

I wonder when I'll ever get this kind of treatment.

After all, Zhang Ye is just a graduate student. If he becomes famous, he can become like Zhang Ye.

Looking back, Lin Hanjiang belatedly realized that the treatment he received wasn't because of his fame.

It was the offer that made Zhang choose it.

Lin Hanjiang said goodbye to his senior sister and turned to walk towards his dormitory building.

Art colleges have fewer students and relatively more comfortable accommodations. Many senior male students like him are assigned to single dorm rooms.

Although it's not big, it's quiet and peaceful.

Open the door with the brass key, press the pull switch next to the door, and the dim incandescent light illuminates the small room of less than ten square meters.

It certainly can't compare to my senior's accommodations.

There was just a single wooden bed with a blue checkered sheet.

An old-fashioned wardrobe with peeling paint.

A desk by the window, neatly stacked with professional books such as "Harmony," "Form Analysis," and "An Introduction to National Vocal Music."

There was also a stack of blank musical staff paper and a Hero brand fountain pen.

The house was clean and tidy, even a little too simple.

It was nothing like the dirty, messy, and smelly dormitories of male science and engineering students.

Lin Hanjiang did not rest immediately, but instead went to his desk and sat down.

The night breeze stirred the thin curtains, carrying the faint sound of piano practice from afar.

There are always students who stay up all night studying!

Roll it up! Roll it up! Just roll it up!

The rolling left all the classmates exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes.

I practiced the piano so much that my fingers swelled and became deformed, which triggered a tenosynovitis attack.

The atmosphere in the entire music academy became so oppressive that it was hard to breathe, and it swept away the original pure love for music and the vibrant creative passion.

At worst, I'll risk everything and stay with you until dawn, then we'll see who can last the longest!

Lin Hanjiang did not act immediately, but sat quietly for a while.

Clear my mind and recall that piece of work.

And then he began to hum the melody softly.

A moment later, he reached out and pulled out a brand new sheet of musical notation paper, then unscrewed the cap of his pen.

The songs for the final round still need to be finalized and sent to the organizing committee of the CCTV Young Singers Competition.

As is customary, it must be submitted by Monday at the latest.

In fact, many people can confirm the song by making a phone call, but since Lin Hanjiang's song is original, the song has to be copied down and sent over.

As his pen fell, simple lyrics and musical notes poured forth from his pen.

Another, even more magnificent picture begins to unfold.

Unlike "The Story of Spring" in the semi-finals, this song looks back at this epoch-making circle.

The songs in the finals should not only maintain that grand and sincere feel, but also possess a sense of vigorous and inspiring progress towards the future.

The lyrics open with a direct expression of feelings, bursting forth with emotion.

It no longer begins with a narrative like in "The Story of Spring," but rather with a direct and powerful declaration.

As Lin Hanjiang wrote, he hummed in a very low voice to make sure he hadn't misremembered.

In the chorus, he deliberately enhanced the rhythm and appeal, with the melody building layer by layer, like the tides of the times, one wave higher than the next.

He even added a small note next to it: "Harmony can be added here to enhance the momentum and sense of layering."

Hopefully, the band from CCTV won't disappoint.

As the last note faded, he gently blew away the ink.

I carefully put the sheet music away; it's time to rest.

I made plans with my senior classmate to go see Teacher Jin together tomorrow.

Outside the window, some diligent student was still repeatedly playing a slightly awkward arpeggio etude, playing it intermittently.

Lin Hanjiang's lips curled up slightly.

Let's roll it up, students.

And I will take this song to a wider stage.