Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

After hanging up the phone, Zheng Hui didn't dare to delay. He took Lin Dashan out, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for the University of International Business and Economics.

Upon arriving at the school, they asked for directions along the way and finally found the teaching and research office where Liu Huan was located.

Zheng Hui knocked on the door and went in; Lin Dashan was waiting at the door.

"You're here? Have a seat." Liu Huan gestured to the chair next to him.

Zheng Hui didn't sit down; he wanted to finish his business first: "Teacher Liu Huan."

Liu Huan didn't dwell on it anymore. He looked at Zheng Hui and asked, "You said on the phone earlier that you wanted to sing 'My Motherland and I'?"

"Yes."

Why did you want to sing this song?

Liu Huan looked at the young man and said, "I've also listened to your songs 'I Believe,' 'Stubborn,' and 'Fly Higher.' You're going down the rock and roll path."

This song, "Me and My Motherland," is a genuine lyrical song, and a grand, sweeping one at that.

Zheng Hui said, "Mr. Liu Huan, I went to Tiananmen Square this morning and watched the flag-raising ceremony."

Liu Huan nodded without saying anything, waiting for what was to come.

"When I saw the flag being raised, everyone around me was singing the national anthem. I sang along, and while I was singing, besides that feeling of excitement, I also had another feeling in my heart."

Zheng Hui placed his hand on his chest: "I am from Macau. Next year, Macau will return home."

"The feeling wasn't that I was going to build up my motherland, but that I was finally going to return to the embrace of my motherland."

I imagine myself as a child who has been wandering outside for a long time, finally seeing my home and my mother.

Liu Huan's expression changed, and he sat up straight: "Continue."

"Li Guyi's version is about standing on the earth and praising the greatness of mothers."

But in my version, I want to try snuggling up to my mother's feet and whispering something to her.

"But the original melody of this song was very high and powerful, which wasn't quite suitable for this kind of expression. So I wanted to change the singing style and also change the feel of the arrangement."

Liu Huan became interested: "That's interesting. Talk is cheap. Sing a couple of lines and I'll hear it."

Zheng Hui nodded, cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and adjusted his breathing.

Instead of using diaphragmatic breathing to reach the high note, the breath is now swirling around in the mouth, accompanied by a slight whisper.

"Me and My Motherland..."

Liu Huan raised an eyebrow as soon as the first sentence was uttered.

The sound was too soft.

There was no vibrato, no booming resonance, it was like speaking right next to your ear.

"We can't be separated even for a moment..."

Zheng Hui swayed slightly, a faint smile on his face. That relaxed feeling was completely different from the solemnity that this song usually gave people.

"Wherever I go, a hymn flows forth..."

At this point in the song, the rhythm becomes lighter and more upbeat.

It wasn't the rhythm of a march, but rather a waltz-like cadence.

Three beats.

Boom, snap, snap.

It's like dancing in the sunlight.

Liu Huan's fingers involuntarily began to tap out a rhythm on his leg.

"I sing of every mountain, I sing of every river..."

Zheng Hui's voice gradually relaxed, and although it was still the same gentle singing style, the intensity of emotion reached its peak at this moment.

That was pure attachment.

"Wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, a small village, a rut on the road..."

As the last syllable faded, Zheng Hui opened his eyes and looked at Liu Huan.

Liu Huan clapped.

"good!"

Liu Huan stood up, walked up to Zheng Hui, and looked him up and down: "Zheng Hui, you've got guts."

Zheng Hui was both apprehensive and hopeful: "Mr. Liu Huan, isn't this a bit too outrageous?"

"If it were anyone else, any professional singer from mainland China, who dared to sing this song like this, I would curse them out."

Liu Huan said seriously, "I would say he's frivolous, that he's disrespectful, and that he turned such a serious subject into a pop ballad."

Zheng Hui's heart skipped a beat.

But Liu Huan changed the subject, a smile appearing on his face: "However, if you sing and it works, I'll applaud and cheer for you."

Why?

Liu Huan pointed at Zheng Hui: "Because of your identity, you are from Macau. Just as you said, this is a wanderer returning home."

"A child who has been wandering for a hundred years returns to his mother's side. He will not immediately shout that his mother is great. He will first act coquettishly, first express his longing, and first touch his mother's face."

"Only you can sing out that sense of whispering, that sense of intimacy. Your handling just now, that breathy tone, captured that feeling of tender affection so perfectly."

Liu Huan turned around, picked up the phone book on the table, and started flipping through it.

"I'll take care of this for you."

As Liu Huan flipped through the pages, he said, "The lyricist of this song is Mr. Zhang Li, who now lives in Beijing."

"The composer is Mr. Qin Yongcheng, who used to be the dean of Shenyang Conservatory of Music. He retired in 96. Now he works at the Beijing Music Life magazine and lives in Beijing."

Liu Huan found the number and picked up the receiver: "I'll call them right now. This kind of good adaptation must be heard by them. I believe these two gentlemen will understand your intentions."

Zheng Hui watched Liu Huan dialing the number and felt relieved; it was finally done.

Liu Huan spoke respectfully into the phone: "Hello, is this Teacher Qin? This is Liu Huan. Yes, yes, yes."

I have something to report to you. There is a young singer from Macau who wants to cover your song "Me and My Motherland".

Hey, don't be so quick to refuse. This young man's changes are quite unique, and I think they're really good. I'd like to take him to meet you so he can sing for you in person.

"It's in Beijing, yes. Okay, shall we go this afternoon?"

After hanging up the phone, Liu Huan dialed Zhang Li's number again.

After a brief conversation, Liu Huan hung up the phone and waved to Zheng Hui.

"All done."

Liu Huan picked up his coat from the hanger: "Come on, Teacher Qin is at the magazine office, not far from here. Let's go see Teacher Qin first, then we'll go see Grandpa Zhang."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Liu Huan," Zheng Hui said gratefully.

"What are you thanking me for?" Liu Huan patted Zheng Hui on the back and pushed him out: "Being able to hear this version of 'My Motherland and I' means my efforts weren't in vain."

If this song were recorded, it would absolutely melt the hearts of all Chinese people at this crucial moment of reunification.

The two walked out of the teaching and research office, with Zheng Hui following behind Liu Huan, his steps light and quick.

Music Life Magazine

"Xiao Zheng, right?" Old Qin looked at Zheng Hui: "Liu Huan praised you to the skies on the phone, saying that you sang with originality."

This song was written over a decade ago, and many people have covered it, but most of them just follow Li Guyi's style. I want to hear what you, a kid from Macau, can bring to the song.

Zheng Hui was not intimidated. In front of such a musical master, technique was secondary; sincerity was the key.

He sang Faye Wong's version of "Me and My Motherland" again.

At first, Old Qin leaned back in his chair. After listening for a couple of sentences, he tapped his fingers lightly on the table, a look of surprise flashing in his eyes, which then turned into appreciation.

After Zheng Hui finished singing, Qin Lao exclaimed, "You sang well! When Zhang Li and I wrote this song, we were in Zhangjiajie."

At that time, I wanted to write a song with a beautiful melody, like a flowing stream.

Therefore, this descending melody and this triple meter were used.

Old Qin looked at Zheng Hui and said, "Your singing style, although different from Li Guyi's grand style, has precisely captured the softest part of the melody of this song."

You amplified that sense of fluidity, that feeling of intimacy.

"Child, I agree to your changes."

Old Qin stood up and took out a musical score from the bookshelf; it was a copy of the manuscript of "My Motherland and I".

He signed his name on it and handed it to Zheng Hui.

"Take this song and sing it, let more young people hear it, and let them know that patriotism can also be a gentle thing."

Zheng Hui accepted the sheet music with both hands and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Teacher Qin!"