Chapter 140: The Father of Rhythm and Blues

This song, "Twenty-Two," was a pure Western R&B track with an extraordinarily catchy and captivating melody. It placed extremely harsh demands on vocal technique, but this was precisely Cheng Xiaoyu's forte. Every vocal run was crystal clear and transparent, every tail-end note was pitched to absolute perfection, and every vibrato was a subtle, delicate tremor—much like tickling someone's ear with a cotton swab, making them wish they could burst into song right along with it.

Due to his congenital physical limitations, Cheng Xiaoyu's vocal range was not quite wide enough, so he had deliberately intensified his practice of falsetto, head voice, and mixed voice. The terrifying aspect of his current singing technique lay in the transitions between chest voice, falsetto, and mixed voice, which were virtually flawless. They were natural, casual, and achieved with seamless connectivity, greatly astonishing those in the audience who understood music. Such complex and sophisticated vocal technique was nothing short of miraculous for a seventeen-year-old boy, not to mention that his mastery of mixed voice throughout the performance was nothing-short-of divine and his execution of details was utterly impeccable. Critique someone whose vocal technique was far superior to one's own? This made the judges in the audience feel somewhat awkward.

Meanwhile, the audience in the small theater had been completely ignited by the song. Although they all knew that someone who looked like this must be exceptionally talented, this strength was so formidable that it exceeded all imagination. Furthermore, for the majority of the listeners, this was their very first time hearing R&B, a genre that had barely made any appearance in this world yet. That marvelous sensation was truly difficult to put into words. Ordinarily, the music most listeners came into contact with was heavy-handed, deeply dramatic, and obsessed with melodramatic, life-or-death Mandarin love songs. This piece, carrying a faint touch of freshness tinged with a hint of melancholy, was the ultimate palate cleanser. It felt like drinking iced beer in the dead of summer—though slightly bitter, it refreshed everyone from head to toe, leaving them yearning to get dead drunk just to feel fully satisfied.

Ma Guoli's face flushed red and turned pale by turns as he recalled his own composition, "Lonely Youth," which now sounded utterly unlistenable by comparison. Both were songs depicting youth, yet someone else's work possessed a mesmerizing melody, profound intellectual depth, and a vocal performance terrifyingly powerful. This made Ma Guoli begin to wonder if choosing the Shanghai Conservatory of Music back then had been a mistake. He had no idea that Cheng Xiaoyu hadn't even received his admission letter from the Shanghai Theatre Academy yet; had he known, he probably would have suffered an emotional breakdown on the spot.

As for Cheng Xiaoyu's peers and most of the young people present, they all saw reflections of themselves in the song. Though everyone's memories differed, everyone's emotional resonance was identical.

Li Ping'an, who hailed from a small town, thought of how difficult it was to gain a foothold in a massive metropolis like Shanghai. Every month's rent was a pain anchored in his heart; every day, squeezed onto the subway and weaving through the vast sea of humanity, he wondered what he was striving so hard for. Back in high school, getting into a good university felt like everything; nearing the end of university, landing a good job felt like everything. But what about after starting work? Listening to this song, Li Ping'an felt as though he had suddenly understood something profound.

A piece of great music could effortlessly touch people's hearts, especially "Twenty-Two," which struck straight at the emotional core of every fresh graduate stepping out of late adolescence and into society. Every single one of Cheng Xiaoyu's peers felt it necessary to completely reevaluate this nondescript, slightly chubby guy.

Yet, some still felt deeply displeased. Cheng Xiujing nearly dug her nails into her palms, her lips pressed tightly together, her entire body rigid to the point of exhibiting a morbid, fragile beauty. Although she had suspected this chubby guy might sing well, the sheer extent of his excellence was something she simply could not accept. She had been instantly reduced to dust by him, and that realization only fueled her anger, because her own vocal technique was undeniably substandard compared to his. This urged an impulse of tears to well up; she desperately wanted to ask him what was so great about singing well. Just because he was talented, did he have the right to look down on others like that? But her pride forbade her from doing so. For the very first time, she doubted whether choosing the path of singing had been a mistake—wondering if she truly lacked this kind of talent altogether.

The other three girls also wore agonizing expressions, the stifled frustration pent up inside them entirely venting itself nowhere. The gazes they cast toward Su Yuqi and Xu Qinning carried a hint of grievance. Being crushed was not frightening; what was terrifying was seeing no hope of ever retaliating. This caused them to harbor a trace of resentment toward Cheng Xiaoyu.

Yet, in truth, the ones least capable of believing their own eyes and ears were the four judges. This brand-new musical rhythm was something they had never encountered before. It bore a slight resemblance to Western jazz, and somewhat resembled blues—which was still a very niche genre abroad—yet it was neither. Blues and jazz rhythms utilized triplet notes, with a two-to-one division forming a single beat, structured as 2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1, spanning four beats per bar. In contrast, Cheng Xiaoyu's music employed quarter notes, with each beat in a bar exhibiting a rhythmic pulse of 1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1, alongside sixteenth-note variations structured as 2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1-2-1 per bar. While blues or jazz could only produce a maximum of eight notes per bar—or twelve even when fully packed with triplets—the rhythmic flow of Cheng Xiaoyu's music featured at least sixteen notes per bar. The creative space for composition, arrangement, and instrumental accompaniment far surpassed that of jazz and blues. This was an entirely new musical form. But even if it were merely unique in style, that would be one thing; the vocal technique, however, was simply god-defying! This caused the judges to begin wondering whether Cheng Xiaoyu had been born crying melodies straight out of the womb, not to mention his fingerstyle guitar playing technique. To industry insiders, this kind of impact was akin to Mars colliding with Earth.

Right now, however, they had to mask the shock within their hearts and speak up. As a result, all four of them blurted out simultaneously, trying to grab the initiative, only to awkwardly yield to one another. In the end, Cao Damian, who had originally recommended Cheng Xiaoyu, spoke first.

At this moment, Cao Damian's inner conflict was intense. Possessing such formidable vocal technique, it would be an absolute waste for him to remain strictly behind the scenes; yet as a singer, his physical appearance imposed severe limitations. Furthermore, he was the boss's illegitimate son, which truly placed Cao Damian in an impossible dilemma.

Cao Damian stared at Cheng Xiaoyu on stage, lost for words for a long time, before finally asking, "How old are you?"

With a face full of dark lines, Cheng Xiaoyu hugged his guitar and replied, "Seventeen."

Cao Damian gave a dry cough to mask his awkwardness and said, "Not bad. At such a young age, your vocal skills are truly remarkable. You're in the Vocal Department at the Shanghai Theatre Academy, right? Your department head, Huang Hongtao, happens to be a good friend of mine." The audience below was completely baffled as to why the head of the planning department was suddenly making small talk with this chubby kid.

Hearing Cao Damian's question, Cheng Xiaoyu fell silent for a moment before answering with a troubled tone, "Pardon me, but I applied for the Piano Department, and my acceptance letter probably hasn't even been mailed out yet."

Cao Damian and the three other judges on stage were already fluttering away in the wind, all four wearing expressions as if they had just swallowed a dog. Sitting nearby, Production Department Director Xiang Fengxing felt that Cao Damian was getting further and further away from the main point, so he cut in to ask a question that was about to explode inside his head: "Did you write this song?"

Ever since Cheng Xiaoyu calculated his astonishing earnings from the music website, he felt he had fulfilled his obligations. Besides, since the track he plagiarized wasn't even by his own idol, he carried very little psychological burden. He answered quickly, "Yes." He was merely a person with personal bottom lines, not a moral saint. Once he found a self-deceptive equilibrium, he wouldn't blush over his own plagiarism either.

Yet that single word, "Yes," struck the minds of the four judges below like a nuclear bomb, turning their thoughts completely upside down. Although anyone coming for a musician evaluation was expected to sing their own original songs, hearing that answer actually confirmed still left them astonished. It wasn't that geniuses didn't exist in this world, but when a true genius materialized right before your eyes, you still couldn't help but wear an expression of sheer disbelief.

Xiang Fengxing couldn't help but ask again, "This song carries a strong, top-tier jazz—cool jazz—musical style. Does it belong to jump blues within Western music?"

Cheng Xiaoyu had recently studied Western musical forms, and since the concept of funk did not exist in this world, he explained, "It's not just jazz and blues; it also blends gospel and dance-pop styles. I call it rhythm and blues."

Xiang Fengxing nodded thoughtfully, first softly uttering a questioning phrase: "Rhythm and blues?"

Then he added, "Truly a vivid description! Do you have any other works?"

Cheng Xiaoyu nodded. Xiang Fengxing let out a hearty "Ha-ha!" and said, "Very well, report to our production department tomorrow."

Cao Damian couldn't help interrupting Xiang Fengxing, saying, "Cheng Xiaoyu was recommended by me; surely I should have priority? If he joins our planning department, he can both compose and receive vocal training. It would be an absolute shame for someone with such powerful vocal skills not to step out front."

Xiang Fengxing looked at Cheng Xiaoyu, whose visual presentation was far from ideal, and let out a soft "Heh-heh" chuckle before saying, "I still think it's more reliable for him to develop as a musician and producer. Besides, don't you trainees have enough people already? We finally managed to find such a talented bud; only by coming to the production department will he not be wasted." He had no idea that Cheng Xiaoyu was the boss's illegitimate son, so he hadn't even considered respecting Cheng Xiaoyu's own personal wishes.

Cheng Xiaoyu didn't care about the subtext in Xiang Fengxing's words. He spoke directly into the microphone, declaring, "I still want to go to the planning department myself, but my goal isn't to become a pop star. I simply want to be a music producer for the idol project."

When those words were uttered by Cheng Xiaoyu in a flat, calm tone—within this modest little theater, on this sweltering afternoon where the sky outside lacked a single cloud, the sunlight scorched with blinding intensity, and the air swept by heat waves was completely dried out past the point of burning—inside this cool, slightly chilly indoor space, right after Cheng Xiaoyu dropped that statement about wanting to be a producer, the entire theater seemed to lose all shelter, exposed directly to the outdoor blaze of extreme temperatures. In that tranquil theater, a cataclysmic spiritual tremor was instantly triggered, as if all the air in the room had been completely sucked out. Everyone was rendered utterly speechless, unable to muster even a sound of mockery, collectively feeling amidst the burning anxiety that this chubby kid had simply lost his mind with arrogance. Wanting to be a producer at seventeen years old?

Cheng Xiaoyu quietly watched the people in the audience whisper among themselves, the atmosphere gradually growing noisy. He looked at the four judges staring at him with dropped jaws and incredulous expressions. He looked at Cheng Xiujing and the other three girls standing there in unfathomable, dumbfounded shock. He looked at the entire world openly and unashamedly questioning him.

At that exact moment, Cheng Xiaoyu deeply felt that life in this world was truly, wonderfully interesting.

*(Due to the Chinese New Year, I can only guarantee two chapters a day, and I hope everyone understands. First, I wish you all a safe journey home and a joyful New Year. Thank you for every tip, every recommendation ticket, and every click. Qingshan is also writing for the first time, and currently, the performance is quite mediocre, but Qingshan understands that persistence is key in all things. So please rest assured and add it to your library—it will definitely be completed without any ruined endings. Once again, thank you all profoundly.)*