136. Promoting the Erhu on Livestream-Back at Full Power: Shaking Up the Entertainment Industry with Chinese Classics(The Tide Rises in the Sea of Ink)

Ji Fanxing’s calm and composed demeanor left Lu Changhe in a stunned silence. She watched as his expression shifted—from contemplation to regret, with a flicker of inexplicable resentment buried in between. Eventually, after a long pause, Lu Changhe set aside his prejudices against her and patiently explained the situation.

It turned out that the people of the Dragon Kingdom had long since lost their enthusiasm for traditional culture. Compared to other genres of music, the erhu, lacking any truly iconic or memorable repertoire, had become increasingly obscure. More importantly, at some point, film and television began to portray beggars as figures carrying an erhu and holding a bowl. Over years of constant repetition on screen, this had solidified a stereotype in the minds of the public: playing the erhu was synonymous with being a beggar. Consequently, those who could play were ashamed to perform in public, and parents deemed the instrument "low-class" and unworthy of study. Gradually, the conservatory had reached a point where not a single student had enrolled to study the erhu this year.

"Doesn't that effectively mean the end of a tradition?" Ji Fanxing blurted out, unable to contain herself. "The erhu is such a magnificent instrument—it can be bold and stirring, yet deep and lyrical. It could serve as a window for the world to understand and appreciate Chinese musical culture. How can it be allowed to be deliberately vilified?"

Her tone carried a sharp edge of indignation. She was appalled that creators in the Dragon Kingdom’s entertainment industry would sacrifice their own civilization—a culture deeply rooted in the blood of its people—for the sake of profit.

Lu Changhe and his granddaughter, Lu Shengge, were taken aback; they had not expected such a strong reaction from her. Even Fang Zhijing looked surprised. They were born and raised in the Dragon Kingdom, and unlike Ji Fanxing, they had never witnessed or experienced the profound cultural pride that the Chinese people once held. Faced with the decline of their culture, they felt regret and occasionally tried to turn the tide, but deep down, they had grown numb and helpless.

"What did you say?" Lu Shengge’s eyes widened, as if she had heard something unbelievable.

"The erhu could become a window for the world to understand Chinese culture..." Lu Changhe whispered to himself. Even he was shocked by this perspective—a thought he had never dared to entertain. He looked up, finally observing Ji Fanxing with genuine seriousness. This unconventional girl in her early twenties possessed a light in her eyes he had never seen before. Her conviction regarding the value of the erhu made even a professor like him feel ashamed.

If it were anyone else, he would have assumed they were either delusional or fishing for favors with empty flattery. But this was Ji Fanxing, a woman who had proved herself step by step through her work to reach the pinnacle of the Dragon Kingdom’s cultural exchange circles.

"The erhu, going global! My god! Fanxing, tell me more, I want to hear it!" Lu Shengge could no longer contain her excitement and jumped out from behind her grandfather. Growing up, she had been mocked every time she practiced the erhu; she only persisted because of her deep love for the instrument.

Lu Changhe reached out to steady his granddaughter and asked, his voice raspy, "Girl, what... what are your thoughts?"

Ji Fanxing searched her memory from before her rebirth. Finding no record of any tunes similar to the legendary pieces she knew, she said calmly, "Professor Lu, you mentioned that the erhu lacks memorable works. I happen to have heard a few classic pieces on an old tape, and I believe they are of immense value and significance. Would you be willing to listen?"

A significant piece for the erhu? Lu Changhe subconsciously felt this was an exaggeration, but seeing the resolve in her eyes, he pondered for a moment and gave a subtle nod.

With his approval, Ji Fanxing turned her gaze toward the old, wooden case in Lu Shengge’s hands. "Shengge, may I borrow the erhu from your case?"

Lu Shengge instinctively reached to hand it over, then hesitated. "This is just my practice erhu. It's very old, and the intonation is a bit off..."

"That’s fine. It’s even better that way."

"Huh?" Lu Shengge handed the case to Ji Fanxing, looking bewildered. Lu Changhe frowned. He knew that erhu well—it had been used for over a decade, the strings were loose, and it was barely functional for practice, let alone anything else. He decided not to warn her; he wanted to see if she truly had the talent or if she was just putting on a show.

Ji Fanxing carefully took the erhu from the case, unbothered by its poor condition, and sat down. Seeing her, Lu Shengge felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of faith, sensing that this was a moment of historical significance.

"Fanxing, can I start a livestream? I want everyone to hear you play..." Lu Shengge blurted it out before realizing it might be presumptuous, covering her mouth like a child who had made a mistake.

"Of course," Ji Fanxing smiled. The more people who heard this piece, the better.

Lu Changhe’s brow furrowed deeper. A live performance for the public? If it went poorly, wouldn't it backfire? Yet, he did not stop her. The prejudices of a world that looked down on the erhu would be the ultimate test for the "divine melody" she claimed to possess.

Lu Shengge hurriedly took out her phone, notified her fans in the group chat, and frantically started the broadcast. Within seconds, over a hundred people—her most loyal fans—poured into the stream.

[It’s here! It’s here!]
[Shengge, you’re in such a rush, this must be a surprise. Tell us, what kind of spectacle are you showing us?!]
[Wait? Isn't that Ji Fanxing? Holy crap, Shengge, you actually got her?!]
[Looking at Ji Fanxing with an erhu... is she going to play? Maybe don't...]
[Shengge, are you acting up again? Pushing the erhu on everyone you see? Don't do it, we're still friends!]
[You even dragged the great Ji Fanxing into your begging routine? Impressive!]
[I think Ji Fanxing actually knows how to play. I saw a clip somewhere, it wasn't bad. Plus, she uses the erhu in some of her songs; it’s not unpleasant.]
[But in my heart, whoever plays the erhu just looks so low-class. I can accept it as background music, but for such a formal livestream, I feel like she’s going to ask me for tips any second.]
[Honestly, don't even say it! Now I can't even look at her the same way!]

Lu Shengge watched the comments scroll by, feeling conflicted. She was used to being mocked whenever she posted about the erhu, and she would even join in on the self-deprecation. But for some reason, after hearing Ji Fanxing’s words, these comments felt painful.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and gestured to Ji Fanxing that she was ready.