Chapter Seventy-Six: Provincial Champion

“How are you all doing?”

This time, when Zhang Kexuan took the stage, he didn’t introduce himself as he had during the preliminaries. Instead, he greeted the audience directly, a sign of the great progress he’d made in his mindset. That simple greeting set off another round of shrieks from the girls, especially the female students from Jinling University, whose enthusiasm was through the roof.

He continued, “Tonight, we’re bringing you another one of our original songs—‘Sunflower.’”

Once again, the entire venue erupted.

Chen Wan, standing on tiptoe, leaned in close to Li Mu and whispered, her breath warm against his ear, “My brother really has no shame; it’s clearly your original work!”

Li Mu laughed heartily. “If he wants to become famous, he has to be bold. If he can’t even manage that, he’ll never make it out of Jinling.”

Chen Wan nodded thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on Zhang Kexuan on stage, brimming with anticipation.

At that moment, Zhang Kexuan turned to signal the rest of the band. Drummer Ye Tianming tapped his drumsticks four times to set the pace, and the intro to “Sunflower” began.

The original composer of “Sunflower,” Xie Tianxiao, was already a veteran of the underground rock scene by the time he rose to fame. His singing style placed greater emphasis on unleashing power and emotion than on making the song sound sweet or polished.

However, under Li Mu’s guidance, Zhang Kexuan had gradually discovered his own identity. His vocal tone and style leaned toward pop-rock—not quite as raw or edgy, but far more accessible to the average listener.

So, as Zhang Kexuan sang “Sunflower,” the audience, caught up in the excitement, also found themselves moved by his voice and the song’s message of positivity.

A seed, sprouting from the depths of the mud, breaking free from darkness, blossoming with abandon toward the sunlight.

Though the lyrics carried only a simple theme, they were more easily accepted by the crowd than the cynical works of other rock musicians, and more moving than obscure or convoluted verses.

It wasn’t just the audience who were enthralled—even the judges below the stage were astonished. Such a rock song was rare: catchy, inspiring, and deeply touching.

Among the eight bands competing in tonight’s semifinals, Simple Plan’s “Sunflower” was the only song with a positive message. From lyrics and melody to vocals and arrangement, it eclipsed the competition—it simply wasn’t in the same league.

Li Mu listened quietly, awarding full marks in his heart to Zhang Kexuan and the other three members for their performance.

This time, their live performance was flawless—far superior to any rehearsal. They ignited the spirits of the thousand-strong crowd, sweeping everyone along in their rhythm and capturing them with their music.

“Sunflower, will you bloom again…”

Zhang Kexuan had been restraining his voice, singing as Li Mu had advised—closer to a pop style, avoiding harsh, intentionally broken or torn notes. But as the performance reached its climax, his excitement got the better of him, and with the final line, he unleashed all the pent-up energy in a single roar, instantly sending the atmosphere to its peak. Li Mu felt his ears nearly deafened by the screams of the surrounding fans!

A glint flashed in Li Mu’s eyes. That final shout from Zhang Kexuan was the finishing touch, like the sunflower seed’s explosive burst as it breaks through its confines—a truly electrifying moment.

Li Mu couldn’t help but applaud; he knew Zhang Kexuan had poured his soul into it, and he also knew that Zhang Kexuan truly had the potential to become famous.

In the arrangement of this song, the outro mirrored the intro, creating a musical loop, symbolizing that every end is also a beginning.

After the last note, the applause in the venue was thunderous and unending. The audience had already risen to their feet halfway through the performance, and at that moment, in everyone’s mind, there was only one possible champion for this competition—Simple Plan.

The host came onstage and spent a full minute calming the ecstatic crowd. The young woman, in her twenties, was visibly moved by Simple Plan’s performance; her voice trembled as she spoke, repeatedly exclaiming how wonderful it was. Before inviting the judges to score, she looked at Zhang Kexuan with open admiration and said, “Like many people in the audience tonight, I’m a fan of yours.”

Zhang Kexuan smiled serenely, composed and unflustered. But Li Mu, knowing him well, could guess he was probably about to burst with excitement inside.

The judges all gave extremely high praise, especially the deputy music director from the record company in Yanjing, who was especially generous with his compliments. He said excitedly, “Kexuan, you know, on the flight to Jinling, I was thinking about what kind of original work Simple Plan might present at the semifinals. I was worried that your last song, ‘Li Bai,’ would be your peak and that you’d be a shooting star in my eyes…”

He paused, then raised his voice and declared, “But today, your ‘Sunflower’ proved my worries were completely unfounded. Tonight’s song is a little more rock-influenced in both style and arrangement than ‘Li Bai,’ but the lyrics are much more uplifting. Honestly, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard such a positive and inspiring rock song—it’s truly refreshing!”

The four members of Simple Plan bowed in gratitude. After the judges finished their comments, they waited anxiously for the scores to be announced.

The host spoke up: “So far, the highest score among the previous seven bands is held by Castle in the Sky, with 22 points. In the preliminaries, Simple Plan scored an astonishing 27 points. So, what will the judges give for tonight’s performance of ‘Sunflower’? Let’s wait and see!”

The five judges began writing their scores. A moment later, when the host asked for the results, the whole crowd gasped in unison.

One 10, two 9.5s, and two 9s.

The judges understood the level of this competition: most bands were obscure and far from professional standards. Yet, in their eyes, Simple Plan had already surpassed this tier, so such high scores were entirely justified.

After removing the highest (10) and lowest (9) scores, the final score for Simple Plan’s semifinal performance was: 28 points!

An undisputed victory in the semifinals!

The host, too, announced excitedly on the spot, “The champion of the Ice Power Pioneer National Band Competition, Southern Su Province division, has finally been decided—it’s Simple Plan! Congratulations! On August 8th, they’ll compete in the first round of the finals in Yanjing against champions from eighteen other provinces and regions! Let’s congratulate them and wish them even greater success in the finals!”

Thunderous applause erupted once more. Chen Wan was so happy she was practically jumping for joy, and even the parents of the band members raised their hands high above their heads in applause. These wealthy first-generation parents, all in their forties or fifties, were, for the first time in over twenty years, genuinely proud of their sons.

On stage, Zhang Kexuan was overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes brimming with tears. Seeing the other three members also red-eyed, he pulled them all into a huddle. The four formed a tight circle, their faces hidden from the audience, only visible to each other—faces alight with excitement and tears silently falling.

At this point, the host invited the other competing bands to join them onstage. Members of the other seven bands came up one after another to offer their congratulations to Simple Plan. Meanwhile, Li Mu received a text message from Zhang Kexuan: “Brother Mu, the host said we have to do a TV interview backstage later, so it’ll be a bit late tonight. Don’t leave, okay? Let’s find a place to celebrate together afterward!”

Li Mu checked the time—it was already ten o’clock. Once they finished the interview and squeezed past the fans outside, it would still take a while. They wouldn’t be free until after eleven at the earliest.

All four members of Simple Plan had their parents present, as did Chen Wan’s. With the four of them celebrating, naturally the elders would join in, and as an outsider, Li Mu felt he’d be out of place, not to mention he didn’t much care for such occasions.

Besides, Chen Wan had a train to catch after midnight, and he needed to take her to the station and then head back to Haizhou.

So Li Mu replied to Zhang Kexuan: “Congratulations on the win! You guys should celebrate with your families tonight. I won’t intrude; I need to head back to Haizhou later anyway.”

After sending the message, Li Mu turned to Chen Wan and asked, “Wan-jie, are you going to the celebration with them later? If so, I’ll find somewhere to wait for you—just let me know when you’re ready to go to the station.”

“I don’t want to go either.” Chen Wan would rather spend a quiet moment with Li Mu than join the celebration.

Li Mu said, “Wouldn’t it be awkward if you didn’t go? And your parents are here too—they’ll probably attend, and they’ll want to see you off to the station tonight. What would you tell them if you didn’t show up?”

“That’s true,” Chen Wan pouted, visibly displeased. “Xia Ji’s father owns a star-rated hotel in Jinling, and he’s already arranged for a celebration dinner at the hotel if they won. The four members’ parents and mine will all go. It really wouldn’t be right if I didn’t attend…”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Chen Wan brightened and said, “How about this: I’ll tell them I want to see a friend before I leave, then you and I can find somewhere to sit for a while. After eleven, I’ll show my face at the hotel—just enough to be polite.”

Li Mu nodded. “Sounds good.”