Though of humble rank, I have never dared to forget my concern for the nation.

At the Dragon Kingdom Conservatory of Music, an orchestra composed of students specializing in the music of various ethnic groups watched the screen with barely contained excitement, anticipation shining in their eyes.

Thanks to Ji Fanxing’s advocacy and the support of Fang Zhijing, students who once saw only a murky future had discovered a new direction and a renewed passion to persevere.

Ji Fanxing did not disappoint. With just the first few notes of the prelude, someone immediately identified the instruments playing from the score.

“The flute! That’s a flute!”

“And the erhu!”

...

On stage, Ji Fanxing’s entire aura had changed.

Her beauty was neither gaudy nor flamboyant. Each subtle smile, every fleeting glance, was enchanting—no less than the famed performers of legend. She moved like a startled swan, as graceful as a swimming dragon; her delicate smile on stage was enough to intoxicate the soul.

The students, who had been excitedly discussing among themselves, fell silent and held their breath as they watched Ji Fanxing’s transformation.

The prelude faded, and Ji Fanxing’s clear, bright voice soared:

“A scene unfolds, water sleeves rise and fall~
Singing of joy and sorrow, of partings and reunions—none of it concerns me~
The fan opens and closes, the drums thunder and then fall silent~
Who can speak of the drama’s passion, the outsider’s heart?”

With fingers gently curved in the delicate hand-flower pose, Ji Fanxing pressed her hands to her chest and stepped lightly across the stage. Her gestures and lyrics made it clear that the song told the tale of traditional opera.

Speaking of opera singers, it was impossible not to recall the recent buzz about the Huayun Theatre.

[Ji Fanxing’s very first short video was introducing Peking Opera—this song must be about Peking Opera.]

[My god, she’s so beautiful, so gentle.]

[I’m from Jin City myself. Today, I saw they’d put up scaffolding outside the theatre—it looks like restoration is finally beginning.]

...

Inside the Huayun Theatre, engineers tasked with the restoration eyed the old traces of war damage with interest. One of them, curious about the theatre’s history, turned to Xu Jianguo for a story.

The two men sat together, the engineer—fond of delving into old tales—habitually taking out his phone to record. Xu Jianguo took a drag from his cigarette and began to recount:

“About a hundred years ago, Jin City’s Opera Garden was the largest and most renowned in all of the Dragon Kingdom.
The most talented performers and ardent fans would gather here from every direction...”

On stage, Ji Fanxing’s song continued:

“Custom has it, all joys and sorrows blend into painted faces,
What does it matter, to sing the same lines over and over?
Bones and ashes—both are me.”

Xu Guosheng recalled his master’s words:

“Later, when the invaders came, Jin City was occupied, confronting our army outside the city. There was word that the enemy’s reinforcements were on their way.
If those troops arrived, our army would be surrounded.”

War raged, the world in chaos, and the currents of fate grew ever more treacherous. Ordinary citizens of Jin City, adrift like duckweed in a turbulent era, suffered greatly—yet they refused to let their homeland fall into foreign hands.

They tried everything, hoping to reclaim their land before the reinforcements arrived.

“Drifting in troubled times, watching flames consume the rivers and mountains~
Humble in station, yet I never dared to forget my country’s woes, even if no one knows my name~”

Even those of lowly status never forgot their devotion to their country, willing to sacrifice without recognition.

“In the darkest hour, the senior sisters from the Opera Garden were ordered to perform for the enemy troops in their barracks. Somehow, they managed to procure explosives.
The troupe leader worked with the enemy officer to build the stage himself.
The explosives were hidden everywhere—inside prop boxes, stuffed into bamboo poles, strapped to bodies, concealed in hats... The sisters used every possible method, all for the chance to take one more enemy with them.”

One voice sang on the stage by the sea.
Another recounted the old tale in the decaying theatre of Jin City.

Ji Fanxing and Xu Jianguo, without prior arrangement, were telling the same story of opera performers sacrificing for their country.

Separated by thousands of miles, their voices slowly merged together:

“The audience passes by, no longer seeing the faces of old~
The singer on stage sings a heartbroken song of parting~
Love is hard to put into words, she must sing it with her own blood~
The curtain rises, the curtain falls—who is but a guest?”

Ji Fanxing’s operatic voice was melodious and haunting, as if bridging time and space to connect with the people in Xu Guosheng’s story.

“That night, a violent explosion threw the enemy’s rear into chaos.
Our army seized the opportunity to reclaim Jin City!
But not a single person from the Opera Garden ever returned…”

At this, Xu Guosheng recalled his master’s tear-choked voice, “My senior sisters from the Opera Garden—skilled with spears and swords—dared to wrap themselves in explosives and perish with the enemy!”

He stubbed out his cigarette, letting out a deep sigh.

“Deep emotion is true repentance~
Turn back, and all is but an illusion~
Who stands across from me?”

As Ji Fanxing delivered the spoken lines in her operatic voice, the audience seemed to see a woman in heavy makeup and crimson robes, resolutely throwing a torch into a box packed with explosives.

Opera performers, clad in explosives, rushed toward the highest-ranked enemy officers they could find…

Humble in station, yet never forgetting the nation’s woes. People called opera singers heartless, but who knew the fiery loyalty that burned in their hearts?

“Ah—ah—ah—”

During the interlude, Ji Fanxing held a soaring note for over ten seconds.

“Afterwards, the Opera Garden could no longer perform; those who remained went to the front lines, and slowly, they too vanished without a trace.
Later still… Only my master returned. He rebuilt the Opera Garden and renamed it ‘Huayun’…”

Xu Guosheng finished the story, wiping his face, his eyes full of guilt.

His master had devoted his life to running the Huayun Theatre, finally managing to revive it—yet now, under his own stewardship, it had fallen so far.

The restoration engineer, already wiping tears from his eyes, made a silent vow to share this story with the world.

He wanted everyone to know that the Huayun Theatre was not a relic abandoned by history.

The engineer handed Xu Guosheng a glass of water and opened an app on his phone—right as a live broadcast of “King of All Songs” was playing.

By then, Ji Fanxing’s song was drawing to its conclusion. Her voice gentle and lingering, she sang:

“I once questioned fate, once sang proudly of rise and fall~
Is love heartless or passionate, how can it be weighed?”

The cup fell, spilling water, as Xu Guosheng leapt to his feet in excitement. “That… that singing style!”

For the first time, he’d heard such a stunning operatic voice online, in the world of young people.

Looking closer at the performer taking her bow on screen, he realized it was Ji Fanxing.

“Good, good, good!” Xu Guosheng exclaimed three times in a row.

He had a feeling that, from this day forward, Peking Opera had a future!

Perhaps one day, he would witness the Huayun Theatre filled to the brim once more!

As Ji Fanxing’s song faded, the competition hall seemed to echo with her lingering notes.

A moment of stillness, then thunderous applause erupted, shaking the room.

People who had never listened to Peking Opera before now found their eyes misty with emotion.

This song was not only about an opera performer, but about a deep love for one’s country.

In the online livestream, comments flooded the screen.

[My god?! What is this?! It sounds amazing!]

[I was watching halfway when my grandmother came in and listened with me—she asked me which great master was singing.]

[Such a powerful, story-rich song. After hearing this, I suddenly don’t find opera so grating anymore.]

[Heavens! Who was it that kept saying opera is old-fashioned! What have I been missing all these years?!]

...

In the contestants’ lounge, Ye Yu’s face was ashen, lips pressed into a tight line.

She’d thought she could use Ji Fanxing’s illness as an easy comparison, but who could have guessed her luck would turn out like this!

Is she even human? How can she sing something like that? How are the rest of us supposed to follow her performance?!

She cast a sideways glance at Ji Shengxue, a hint of schadenfreude in her eyes. To bring out a song like “Scarlet Performer” so early—wasn’t she afraid of having nothing left for the next challenge?

Ye Yu was determined to watch closely when Ji Fanxing’s allergies inevitably flared up—let’s see how she intends to keep her King’s crown then.