Chapter Seventeen: Advancing to the Finals! Liu Dongli, the Grassroots King of Dance!

"Contestant Jiang Yun's song is truly ahead of its time. Yet, it still carries the rich, old capital flavor of Xiajing, blending rock and traditional Peking-style vocals without the slightest trace of discord," remarked female judge Wang Lan.

"Exactly!" The judge seated to Wang Lan's left chimed in, "The moment Jiang Yun began with those operatic inflections, I was instantly transported back to the old days of Xiajing—big bowls of tea, plum wine, rickshaws, and the porters pulling them!"

"Thank you for your comments, Teacher Wang Lan and Teacher Huang Kang," Jiang Yun replied modestly.

Wang Lan and Huang Kang responded with warm smiles.

At that moment, a discordant voice cut through the atmosphere: "That song was just so-so! Randomly put together, nothing stands out. It’s neither pop nor opera—falls between categories, neither here nor there."

Jiang Yun frowned. He was certain he hadn’t slighted this judge. He had noticed before that this judge, Guo Fei, seemed to harbor a subtle bias against him.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the audience at Guo Fei’s critique; a wave of discontent began to stir.

Seeing the negative reaction, Wang Lan’s brow furrowed.

Host Wei Le quickly stepped in to smooth things over: "Now, let’s invite the Queen of Cross-dressing to the stage!"

Zhang Yang had already changed into men’s attire and stepped onto the stage, offering Jiang Yun a smile as they stood side by side.

"Now, may we have the judges’ scores, please!"

"Ten!" Wang Lan displayed her scorecard first.

"Ten for me as well!" Huang Kang immediately followed suit.

When it was Guo Fei’s turn, he raised his card with deliberate slowness.

"Eight? Eight points?" Wei Le nearly lost his composure.

An uproar erupted as the audience eyed the numbers flashing on the big screen, their dissatisfaction growing.

"What’s wrong with this judge?"

"No professionalism at all!"

Jiang Yun’s frown deepened, but for the sake of harmony he held his tongue—though he made a mental note of the incident.

Wei Le, ever the professional, quickly regained his poise: "Each judge’s point is worth a hundred votes. Teacher Jiang Yun has earned 280 votes from the judges. Now, let’s ask our 1,000 audience members to cast their votes!"

"Three! Two! One! Start voting!"

The big screen broadcast the live tally.

"Five hundred votes!"

"Eight hundred!"

"Eight hundred forty-three! He’s tied with Zhang Yang!" Wei Le’s running commentary sent emotions soaring and plummeting like a rollercoaster.

"Nine hundred!"

"A thousand? A thousand votes?"

"My goodness, what am I seeing?!" Wei Le wore an exaggerated look of astonishment.

"A thousand votes! A perfect score!"

Li Meng echoed the excitement, "Unbelievable! A full vote, really incredible!"

"Contestant Jiang Yun has received a thousand audience votes! Add that to the 280 from the judges, and that’s 1,280 votes in total!"

"Let’s congratulate Jiang Yun on advancing!" Wei Le’s voice rose and fell with emotion, thrilling the crowd.

"Let’s congratulate Jiang Yun on reaching the finals!" Li Meng added.

"Please, both of you, take a short break. Once the second group’s duel is finished, we’ll begin the finals," Wei Le addressed Jiang Yun and Zhang Yang.

The two left the stage and entered the lounge.

Inside, Zhou Ziqian and Liu Dongli sat watching the broadcast on the LCD TV, which showed Jiang Yun and Zhang Yang leaving the stage and heading into the lounge.

As Jiang Yun and Zhang Yang entered, Liu Dongli nodded in greeting.

Zhou Ziqian eyed Jiang Yun, his brow knitting in thought.

So this was the person who had snatched away his chance to challenge? Zhou Ziqian felt not a shred of goodwill toward Jiang Yun.

"Why does he look so familiar? Have I seen him somewhere before?" Zhou Ziqian pondered.

Suddenly, Zhou Ziqian’s eyes lit up as he recalled where he’d seen Jiang Yun—in the most famous recording studio in Modu, accompanied by none other than Old Master Wei himself.

"So this Jiang Yun is the one recommended by King Zhou..." Zhou Ziqian muttered inwardly.

Jiang Yun and Zhang Yang exchanged a polite smile with Liu Dongli.

Zhou Ziqian, giving off an unmistakable "keep your distance" vibe, made neither gesture nor greeting. Sensing this, Jiang Yun and Zhang Yang wisely refrained from approaching.

They sat down, watching the TV.

Out front, Wei Le began to announce, "Now, please welcome our Grassroots Dance King, Liu Dongli, to the stage!"

"Enjoy Liu Dongli’s song and dance performance! The dance track ‘If Wine Could Be Sold,’ music please!" Li Meng added.

The audience burst into enthusiastic applause.

"Boom-ch-boom-ch!" The infectious beat thumped, and the stage lights flashed. Liu Dongli appeared, carrying an old, tattered burlap sack.

Keeping pace with the powerful DJ rhythm, Liu Dongli began to dance. His right hand rested on his lower abdomen, left hand gripping the sack, moving in time with the drums.

He let out a howl, striking a pose with the sack on his back, his right hand constantly in motion.

What a familiar sound,
That has accompanied me through years of wind and rain...

Throughout the performance, Liu Dongli stood in place, only his right hand moving, maintaining the same posture.

"Though you cannot speak a word,
You understand the world’s rights and wrongs better than anyone.
Though you cannot express your true feelings,
You dedicate your life with unwavering passion."

As the passionate rhythm continued, Liu Dongli moonwalked across the stage, concluding his performance.

Li Meng and Wei Le returned to the stage.

"Thank you, our Grassroots Dance King, for that performance. Now, let’s hear the judges’ comments and scores," Li Meng announced.

Huang Kang grinned, teasing, "Dongli, that moonwalk at the end was totally unnecessary! Do you know why?"

Liu Dongli, a man in his thirties with stubble and a rather downcast look, shook his head expressionlessly.

"Your dance is so hypnotic, you only need that one move the whole time—just wave your right hand while holding the pose. The moonwalk was superfluous and didn’t match your shocking grassroots energy," Huang Kang critiqued.

"I’m giving you 9 points—the moonwalk at the end cost you!"

"Nine points as well," Wang Lan stated.

"Nine," Guo Fei agreed.

"Great! All three judges have given 9 points. Now, audience, please vote!" Wei Le called out, microphone in hand.

"Eight hundred votes!" Li Meng announced excitedly.

"Nine hundred!"

"Eight hundred twelve!"

The final tally stopped at 812.

"My goodness! 1,082 votes!" Li Meng exclaimed. "Congratulations to our Grassroots Dance King on such a great result!"

"Let’s have our Dance King take a short break! Now, let’s welcome our final contestant to the stage!"

Zhou Ziqian took the stage.

"What program has Ziqian prepared for us?" Wei Le asked.

"Singing as well," Zhou Ziqian replied.

A stir swept through the audience; whispers broke out.

"Why is Zhou Ziqian singing too? Isn’t he worried about duplicating acts?"

"What? Two singing acts in a row? That’s not good news for my dear Ziqian!"

Meanwhile, Zhang Tie was live-streaming, "Folks, look! Zhou Ziqian is on stage!"

Watching the gifts pour in from fans, Zhang Tie’s face bloomed with delight. Tonight’s stream alone would easily net him half a million.

"You’ll never guess what program Zhou Ziqian is performing!"

"Stop teasing, streamer, or we’ll stop tipping you."

"Alright!" Zhang Tie rubbed his nose and relented, "Zhou Ziqian is going to sing too!"

"What? He’s singing too?"

"Isn’t he worried about repeating acts?"

"My Ziqian is just amazing!"