Smoothing the sparse hair on his head, Lu Zhengzhi twisted his plump waist and adjusted his posture, letting his hefty frame sink more comfortably into the plush chair. The balance of firmness and cushioning was just right.
His old friends had really made it big!
The director of CCTV's Arts Program Department sighed inwardly. It was said that the chair he was sitting on cost over 7,000 Yuan— an ergonomic marvel designed for maximum comfort.
And in the Capital City TV T1 studio, there were exactly 2,999 identical chairs!
This brand-new studio was hailed as the most advanced and largest in the country. Even Lu Zhengzhi couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy—CCTV's biggest studio could barely accommodate 2,000 audience members at full capacity.
As a mid-to-high-level executive at CCTV, Lu Zhengzhi hadn't come to Capital City TV just to watch the first rehearsal of the National Day gala out of curiosity—he had official business to attend to.
CCTV, or China Central Television, is the nation's most influential media powerhouse, a key player in shaping public opinion, and a dominant force in mainstream broadcasting. It serves multiple roles, from news and education to entertainment and information services.
Founded in 1955, CCTV remains the primary channel through which the Chinese public receives information, acting as both a window for China to view the world and for the world to understand China. Its international influence is undeniable.
Interestingly, CCTV's roots trace back to Capital City Television, which, after a restructuring, split into what are now CCTV and Capital City TV.
The phrase "even if the bones are broken, the tendons remain connected" perfectly describes the intricate, almost familial relationship between CCTV and Capital City TV— a history deep enough to fill an entire book. Many of Capital City TV's top executives once held key positions at CCTV, and the latter still maintains a direct supervisory role over the former.
That influence runs deep.
The fact that Capital City TV only launched its first reality show this year? CCTV had a hand in that.
Capital City TV depends on CCTV to a certain extent, but it refuses to be just a subsidiary.
The overwhelming success of 'Singing China''s ratings had undoubtedly stirred ambitions within CCTV's younger sibling.
Which is why Lu Zhengzhi's visit today wasn't just about overseeing Capital City TV's National Day gala!
Lost in thought, Lu Zhengzhi found himself momentarily distracted.
It wasn't until Lu Chen stepped onto the stage that his attention snapped back to the program list in his hands.
"This segment is…"
Lu Zhengzhi squinted at the printed text and frowned. "Wang Bin's 'New China, New Era'?"
Although Director Lu was slightly nearsighted, his high-end glasses—worth several thousand Yuan—ensured he had a clear view of the performer on stage.
Was this Wang Bin?
You've got to be kidding me!
Lu Zhengzhi knew Wang Bin personally— they had even shared meals together.
Seated beside him, Gao Zhixue, director of Capital City TV's Editorial Office, coughed awkwardly and said, "Wang Bin's program was… temporarily replaced."
Replaced? With this young man?
Lu Zhengzhi was baffled.
It wasn't unusual for performances in TV galas to be swapped out during rehearsals. The reasons varied— some acts simply didn't make the cut, some performers ran into issues, and sometimes, new acts were strategically pushed forward.
But Wang Bin was no small-time artist. While not an A-list superstar, he was still a heavyweight guest for Capital City TV.
Could he really have been sidelined?
Lu Zhengzhi shook his head and asked, "Did something happen to Wang Bin?"
Bullseye.
Just then, his assistant leaned in and whispered a few words in his ear.
Both the assistant and Gao Zhixue had already heard the news. The former hadn't mentioned it because he didn't think it was necessary; the latter had simply chosen not to bring it up.
Now that Lu Zhengzhi had asked directly, his assistant couldn't pretend to be unaware anymore— avoiding the question would be disrespectful to leadership.
Lu Zhengzhi was momentarily stunned.
After a brief pause, he turned to Gao Zhixue with a peculiar expression.
Gao Zhixue could only respond with a wry smile.
Lu Zhengzhi sighed. "Wang Bin is a decent guy; he must have had a lapse in judgment. Who's this replacement?"
Anyone who could step in for Wang Bin on such short notice had to be someone significant.
Gao Zhixue discreetly exhaled in relief and quickly introduced, "This is Lu Chen, the champion of 'Singing China'."
"Lu Chen?"
Lu Zhengzhi furrowed his brows but then relaxed. "Ah, I remember now. My son really likes his songs."
He gave Gao Zhixue a knowing look. "Wang Bin was originally scheduled to perform a main theme song. What is Lu Chen going to sing?"
Whether at CCTV or Capital City TV, the National Day gala had strict program guidelines— political correctness came first. A large portion of the performances had to be patriotic or officially approved songs, while popular music was merely decorative.
The last two acts had already leaned toward mainstream appeal, and now they were bringing in a talent show winner?
Director Lu couldn't help but scrutinize the decision, offering a subtle reprimand.
Gao Zhixue forced another bitter smile. "This was arranged by Deputy Director Chen and Director Gu. They wouldn't neglect the bigger picture."
Privately, the director of Capital City TV's Editorial Office was just as frustrated.
Of all the choices for a main theme performance, why Lu Chen?
He had already participated in a choral piece earlier in the show.
Lu Zhengzhi said meaningfully, "Let's hope so."
He had already made up his mind— if this turned out to be another pop song, he would have to step in.
Just then, the gala's host announced enthusiastically, "Up next, we have a solo performance by Lu Chen, the champion of the first season of 'Singing China'!
"He will be performing a song titled…"
"I Love You, China!"
As soon as the host finished speaking, murmurs spread through the audience.
During the first rehearsal of the National Day gala, the audience was composed mostly of TV station staff.
They already knew about Wang Bin's arrest, so a program change was expected—but no one anticipated that Lu Chen would be the replacement for the veteran singer.
Lu Zhengzhi raised an eyebrow. "'I Love You, China'? That's a great title, but I don't recall ever hearing this song before."
Gao Zhixue initially sighed in relief— at least the title suggested a patriotic theme—but his unease quickly returned.
'I Love You, China' sounded fitting for the occasion, yet he had no recollection of such a song. Where had Gu Rui dug this one up from?
This old fellow— couldn't he have made a safer choice?
Gao Zhixue's frustration was mounting.
There were so many well-established patriotic songs to choose from. Why not go with 'Happy Chinese', 'The Future of Our Motherland is Brighter', 'Red Flag', or 'Ode to China'?
But despite his internal complaints, Gao Zhixue had to keep up appearances. "It should be a great song."
He could only hope for the best—because he had never heard it before.
The next moment, the music began to play.
As the prelude filled the studio, Gao Zhixue's heart sank, and his expression darkened.
Not only was this song unfamiliar, but the arrangement also sounded lackluster—almost like a last-minute composition!
Gao Zhixue had a background in music and knew it well.
The only saving grace was that Lu Zhengzhi wasn't well-versed in music, so he wouldn't immediately recognize the song's shortcomings.
Still, Gao Zhixue's expectations for this performance plummeted to rock bottom.
Among the TV station staff seated behind them, many had a sharp ear for music. Some looked tense, others amused, and a few were genuinely intrigued.
Could a solo like this even pass muster for a major gala?
Everyone turned their attention to Lu Chen, waiting to see how he would pull this off.
Lu Chen held the microphone, head bowed slightly.
As the intro played, he began to sing.
"Whenever I feel pain, I long for your embrace,
Like a familiar warmth touching my soul.
Whenever I feel lost, you light my way,
Like gentle arms wrapped around my shoulders.
Sometimes, I feel lonely and helpless, like a stone tumbling down a mountainside,
But just thinking of your name restores my strength.
Sometimes, I lose my way, like a swallow drifting from its flock,
But as long as I know you're there, fear fades away.
…"
Gao Zhixue listened, his brows furrowing deeply, dissatisfaction clear on his face.
If Lu Zhengzhi weren't present, he might have already voiced his objections.
Even without being an expert, Director Lu could tell this was an unfamiliar song. The melody and lyrics lacked a strong hook, and the slow, deep tune felt too subdued— where was the soaring emotion expected of a patriotic anthem?
Lu Chen's vocals were undoubtedly impressive. His voice carried a distinct timbre and was instantly recognizable. His control over the mid-low range showcased why he was the champion of 'Singing China'.
But this arrangement? It leaned unmistakably toward pop music. Where was the so-called "main theme" element?
Gao Zhixue found it increasingly difficult to sit through.
He had already made up his mind—this solo needed to be replaced. Gu Rui couldn't just throw in a personal favorite and expect it to stick.
Then, just as Gao Zhixue was about to tune out—
Lu Chen lifted his head.
His gaze was sharp, filled with unwavering conviction. Suddenly, his voice surged, brimming with passion and power.
"...
I love you, China—my beloved mother!
I weep for you, I am proud of you!
I love you, China—my dearest mother!
I weep for you, I am proud of you!
..."
As the powerful chorus echoed through the studio, Gao Zhixue felt a shiver run down his spine!
This transition— this chorus— completely transformed the song. The contrast was stunning, the climax soaring. It struck something deep within, sending a wave of emotion through him. Goosebumps prickled his skin!
"...
One day, this song will grow old, like blossoms on an ancient tree,
But I will sing it again and again, as if it were my very life.
Some people may fade away, some bonds may break,
But you will always remain in my heart, shining like the eternal sun.
I love you, China—my beloved mother!
I weep for you, I am proud of you!
I love you, China—my dearest mother!
I weep for you, I am proud of you!
..."
The entire studio fell silent. Conversations halted.
Only Lu Chen's voice remained, echoing powerfully, surging like waves crashing against a towering cliff.
Wave after wave—it struck straight to the heart!—
——
(End of Chapter)
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