Chapter Ninety-Three: Spring Festival Gala Rehearsal

After seeing Li Feifei off, Zhou Miao plunged completely into a whirlwind of busyness. There were exams to deal with at school, and on top of that he still had demo recordings to finish for the New Year’s Gala. He was so occupied he barely had time to put his feet on the ground.

After finishing the final course, sight-singing and ear training, Zhou Miao finally let out a long breath. At last, holiday break.

“Brother Miao, there’s a class dinner tonight. If you’re free, come join us,” the class monitor said as he approached.

Zhou Miao smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid not tonight. I still have work to do when I get back. Once the break starts, I’ll treat everyone to a proper meal.”

The class monitor looked a little disappointed, but he understood. It was the end of the year, and every performer was busy. Someone as wildly popular as Zhou Miao was surely even busier.

“All right then, it’s settled.”

Back at the office, Zhou Miao rushed straight into the recording room. The gala’s major rehearsal had already begun, and if he missed the next two rounds as well, then he might as well pack up and go home for the New Year.

It was already three in the morning when he finally finished the demo. He was exhausted beyond words. After sending the track to Director Wang Libin’s email, Zhou Miao didn’t even go home. He collapsed in the lounge and slept like the dead.

The next morning at seven, he was jolted awake by a ringing phone. It was Director Wang Libin, who answered in a hoarse, half-asleep voice, “Hello?”

“Hello? Xiao Zhou, I listened to the song. Good. Very spirited! I think it’s fine, but the arrangement still feels a bit rough. Refine it some more. I’ll arrange the musicians. Let’s make it grand, majestic, absolutely stunning. You understand what I mean by stunning…”

Wang Libin spoke with growing enthusiasm, while on the other end of the line Zhou Miao’s phone had slipped onto the blanket. He was still asleep with his mouth open, drooling all over the pillow.

...

Hu San came into Zhou Miao’s home dragging a heavy suitcase, her little face flushed from fatigue as she panted nonstop. Zhou Miao hurried to pour her a cup of hot water.

“Seriously, it’s just winter break. Why did you bring so much stuff back?” Zhou Miao truly could not understand girls.

Hu San opened the suitcase as though unveiling a treasure. “You don’t get it. These are all local specialties I bought. You can’t even find them in Suzhou. I even prepared a set for your parents. Look!”

Zhou Miao crouched down and rummaged through them casually. “Silly girl, these are the kind of things locals get tired of and use to scam outsiders with. They call them specialties, and you’re treating them like treasure.”

Hu San knitted her brows. “Really? But they got tons of likes online.”

“That stuff isn’t reliable at all. Haven’t you heard people say Beijing has no good food? Remember that fermented bean drink we had the second day we came to Beijing?”

The moment Hu San heard the name of that drink, her throat seemed to itch. “All right, all right, stop talking about it. I remember.”

She sat down on the sofa, looking downcast. “Well, I’ve already bought them. I can’t just waste them. If nobody eats them, I’ll eat them all myself.”

After sitting quietly for a while, she asked, “You’ve decided not to go back for New Year’s, right?”

Zhou Miao nodded. “Mm. The song has already passed review. I’ll be in rehearsals for the whole next month. I’ll go back on the second day of the new year.”

“All right. I was hoping to go back with you,” Hu San said with a hint of regret, though she understood that Zhou Miao had real work to do.

Zhou Miao rested his forehead against hers. “Be good. I’ll come find you after I get back.”

Early the next morning, Zhou Miao had the driver take one of the company cars to the airport for Hu San. Then he went alone to the gala studio. Today was the second major rehearsal, and he had come early to get familiar with the stage positions.

“Hey! Zhou Miao!”

The voice was familiar. Zhou Miao turned around and saw Huang Chengxi. He had not expected him to be there too. Since The Summit, the two of them had gotten along quite well and stayed in touch often.

“You’re here too? What are you performing?” Zhou Miao asked with a smile.

Huang Chengxi sighed helplessly. “It was supposed to be a sketch, but that segment got cut. Now they’ve shoved me into a poetry recital. What about you?”

“I don’t have your range. I’m just doing what I always do. First rehearsal for me today,” Zhou Miao said.

“Come on. Everybody knows you’re the runaway champion of the comedy world. It’s such a waste not to have you in a sketch,” Huang Chengxi said with a grin.

“Damn it, are you my hater?”

Before long, the gala’s performers arrived one after another, and the rehearsals began in earnest. The New Year’s Gala ran nearly four and a half hours, with dozens of acts large and small, and in fact many more segments were rehearsed than would eventually make it to broadcast.

During rehearsal, the chief director constantly evaluated each performance. If he felt a segment was not working, it was immediately killed. And even if you survived every rehearsal and made it all the way to New Year’s Eve, that still did not mean you were safe.

If any earlier segment ran long, one later segment would be cut without fail. The New Year’s Gala might look bright and festive on the surface, but behind it there was no shortage of hardship.

Because the elimination system was so ruthless, the performers treated every rehearsal as seriously as a live show.

But sometimes effort alone was not enough. Zhou Miao saw with his own eyes that halfway through one performance onstage, Director Wang Libin suddenly called it off, walked up, and said a few words to the actors.

They were too far away to hear what he said, but Zhou Miao saw the faces of those performers collapse at once. In the end, they could do nothing but pack up and leave in resignation.

Zhou Miao understood. Another act had been cut.

Soon it was his turn to rehearse. Along with him came dozens of musicians, a full spread of ethnic instruments among them.

Before the performance began, Director Wang Libin came over and said, “Xiao Zhou, for this rehearsal we’re mainly checking the musicians’ performance. As for you, I’ll be honest: all vocal numbers will be lip-synced on the night, to prevent any accidents.”

Lip-syncing...

Zhou Miao understood that Wang Libin was being cautious. After all, the gala stage was too important for a single mistake.

But after finally getting the chance to stand on such a grand stage, being asked to fake it was something he could not accept.

Zhou Miao shook his head. “Director Wang, I’m afraid I can’t accept lip-syncing. I don’t care what other singers do. Not lip-syncing is my bottom line.”

Wang Libin grew a little headache-stricken. “Xiao Zhou, you have to understand me. The gala isn’t like other variety shows. There’s no room for even the smallest mistake. And by then the whole country will be watching. If you go off-key or something, won’t that be a huge embarrassment?”

“It’s fine. I’m not afraid of embarrassment. Which singer can honestly say they’ve never gone off-key? Besides, isn’t there a delay in the live broadcast? I can pre-record a version. If I go off-key on the night, you can just switch to the recording. How about that?” Zhou Miao suggested.

At his words, Wang Libin ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Zhou Miao was right. The gala was said to be live, but in reality there was about a seven-second delay, precisely to deal with emergencies.

Seeing that Zhou Miao was dead set on singing live, Wang Libin had no choice but to agree for the moment. “Then you’d better practice properly. Don’t embarrass yourself when the time comes.”

“Don’t worry one bit!” Zhou Miao answered cheerfully, delighted that he had won the argument.