A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

At six o'clock in the morning, the morning light streamed into the recording studio through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The four-hour recording session did not go smoothly.

"stop!"

At the control panel, Lin Yan pushed down the pusher, pressed the microphone call button, and his voice revealed undisguised fatigue and irritability.

Inside the shed, Shen Qingqiu took off her headphones and looked at Lin Yan through the double-layered soundproof glass, her lips pressed tightly together.

This is the seventeenth time she has been stopped.

"Boss, something's not right with you." Lin Yan rubbed his temples.

"You handled the gentleness of the verses very well, but the chorus was too tight! You're not just completing a task; you're singing out the pride of a thousand-year-old tradition across the vast land."

"You've only learned the basics; you haven't grasped the essence!"

Shen Qingqiu didn't refute it; she knew Lin Yan was right.

To complete the vocal transition in a very short time and unleash top-notch penetrating power is an absolute challenge.

Old Liang, whose eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night, cautiously approached.

"Director Lin, how about... we fix it in post-production? These days, top-tier audio engineers are really good; they can totally recreate that ethereal feel."

"fart!"

Lin Yan suddenly turned his head, his eyes sharp as knives, which made Lao Liang tremble all over.

"This epic anthem, representing the nation's image, you're telling me to use post-production? I want pure, natural vocal resonance, a living soul, not machine-synthesized electronic garbage!"

"If it were really about post-production, I could just drag any pig into the shed, make it squeal a couple of times, and edit it into a celebrity!"

Old Liang was so frightened that he shrank his neck and immediately shut his mouth, pretending to be dead.

"It's not their fault, it's my problem."

Shen Qingqiu pushed open the door and walked out of the recording studio, his voice already hoarse from overuse.

"Besides the vocals, the arrangement is even worse." Lin Yan scratched his hair in frustration. "When we were recording just now, why were the guzheng and pipa from the folk music ensemble always half a beat out of rhythm with the modern drum kit? The disconnect was too strong!"

The deputy director of instrumental music explained with a wry face, "Director Lin, the folk music masters invited by Huaxia Conservatory of Music are all giants. They are used to traditional, casual rhythms, and suddenly having to work hard with metronomes and Western percussion will really take time to adjust to them."

"Getting used to each other? What we lack most right now is time!" Lin Yan slammed his hand on the table.

On the international stage, William Davis, that foreign devil, is still posting a countdown on Twitter, constantly mocking the incompetence of Chinese music.

"Since we can't find the rhythm, let's not use the metronome." Lin Yan made the decision directly, his aura changing drastically. "Call all the members of the folk music ensembles and the Western orchestras to the largest set, Studio One!"

"Huh? All of them? That's over a hundred people!"

"Stop talking nonsense! Go and call them!"

Ten minutes later, inside Studio One.

On the left sat dozens of elderly folk music artists holding erhu, guzheng, pipa, and bamboo flute; on the right sat Western symphony musicians dressed in suits, holding cello, violin, and French horn.

The two groups were clearly separated, and the atmosphere was somewhat awkward.

Lin Yan didn't even wear a coat, just a wrinkled white T-shirt, and strode onto the command platform.

He didn't take the conductor's baton; instead, he casually broke off a piece of pencil from the music stand.

"Dear seniors and teachers, thank you for your hard work."

Lin Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced everyone's ears through the microphone.

"I know that fusing traditional folk music with Western symphonic music is an incredibly difficult task, almost like being in hell. But today, we have to force ourselves to master this song!"

He pointed to the sky outside.

"Those foreigners are sitting here on their little stools, waiting to see us make a fool of ourselves. I, Lin Yan, don't know anything about Western customs; I only know that on our turf, no one is allowed to run wild!"

These words instantly ignited a powder keg in the room.

Several silver-haired folk music masters exchanged glances, their inner fighting spirit instantly awakened.

"Xiao Lin, just tell us what to do! We old bones, all of us weighing over a hundred pounds, are in your hands today!"

An old man who had played the erhu his whole life laughed loudly.

"Okay!" Lin Yan held up the half-pencil in his hand.

"Western orchestra, listen up! You're responsible for laying the rhythmic foundation from here on out. Keep it steady and powerful!"

"Dear senior members of the folk music ensemble, throw away your metronomes and watch my hand gestures! Unleash all your decades of accumulated knowledge and skills, and let those foreign devils see what I'm capable of!"

"Qingqiu, let's go into the greenhouse!"

Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath, put on the monitoring headphones, and stood in front of the microphone.

Lin Yan's gaze swept across the entire room, and the half-pencil in his hand suddenly drew a sharp arc in mid-air.

"Enter!"

As the gestures fell, the steady and majestic cello and the grand French horn roared first, like the solid foundation of the Great Wall, firmly supporting the entire epic.

Immediately afterwards, Lin Yan pointed his left hand towards the folk music ensemble area with lightning speed.

"Clang!"

The guzheng and pipa played like pearls falling onto a jade plate, their sounds crisp and clear.

That was a clear, cool tone that belonged only to the East, with a penetrating quality.

Two completely different musical systems miraculously intertwined under Lin Yan's god-like dominance.

There was nothing abrupt, only the vast and inclusive spirit of the ocean.

The prelude was perfectly timed. Lin Yan's gaze locked onto Shen Qingqiu, his eyes filled with encouragement and a resolute determination to burn his bridges.

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes.

The repression of being shelved for the past three years, the emotion of being pulled out of the abyss by Lin Yan, and the patriotic feelings surging in my chest at this moment all merged together.

She opened her eyes and parted her red lips slightly.

Her ethereal voice, clear to the extreme, was like the first ray of dawn cleaving through the long night, instantly tearing away all the fog:

"The red sun rises in the east, its grand avenue bathed in rosy light."

How fortunate I am to have been born into your arms.

"Passing down the same bloodline..."

He was so impressed he immediately knelt down!

Outside the control room, Lao Liang and the others had goosebumps all over their bodies.

This unadorned, natural timbre, under the accompaniment of top-notch symphonic music, evokes a sense of destiny that brings tears to the eyes.

The verses progress smoothly, with emotions building up like a volcano about to erupt.

"Sharing both hardship and happiness, they stood tall and upheld their principles."

"Our nation, with its vast territory, is governed by benevolence and love."

"A faith that has endured for a thousand years"

......

At the very last moment of the lyrics, Lin Yan suddenly jerked the half-pencil in his hand upwards, unleashing his suppressed aura.

"Rise!" Lin Yan mouthed a silent roar.

Shen Qingqiu clenched his fists tightly, a chill running down his spine.

She completely abandoned all worldly singing techniques, unleashing the purest and wildest Eastern pride from her chest.

"To depict the vast sky, one only needs to capture a corner of the sun and moon's enduring beauty."

"When painting the earth, only a corner is depicted, with mountains and rivers unharmed."

"Looking back on five thousand years of history, all of heaven and earth admire us."

"Only the Yan and Huang people, with open hearts, can roam freely in all directions."

boom!

The voice, imbued with the spirit of Chinese culture, possessed an absolute penetrating power that shattered everything, resonating wildly throughout the recording studio.

The hands of the Western musicians were trembling uncontrollably as they played the strings, while the veteran artists of the folk music ensemble were overcome with emotion and tears streamed down their faces.

This is truly an epic of Chinese history!

The song ended, but the lingering melody still resonated.

The entire No. 1 shed was deathly silent.

After holding it in for a full half minute, they suddenly erupted into a thunderous roar and cheers that seemed to tear the roof off.

Lin Yan threw away the half-pencil he was clutching, which was already sweating, and let out a long breath.

He looked at Shen Qingqiu behind the glass, a carefree smile, typical of salted fish, curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Done. Now, it's time to show that foreign devil on the internet what cruelty really means."