Awakening Elementary School System in University
Chapter 29 - 28: First, Sing to My Heart’s Content

Chapter 29: Chapter 28: First, Sing to My Heart’s Content

Chen Lin walked onto the stage, cleared his throat, and tested the microphone.

He moved the microphone closer and then further away to check the volume. Once satisfied, he said with a chuckle, "Let’s give another round of thunderous applause for our senior Song Cheng’s fantastic performance—"

A wave of applause rose from the audience below, mixed with whistles and cheers. The noise was considerable.

"Next," Chen Lin shifted into a more comfortable stance and smiled lightly, "I’m going to perform a few songs that I really like."

Scattered murmurs immediately broke out—

"He’s not going to sing ’Two Tigers’ again, is he?"

"I hope he does something serious this time..."

"That handsome guy just now finally got the mood going. Don’t let this guy ruin it!"

Chen Lin pretended not to hear.

He silently glanced at the brand-new "Little Singer" title in his system panel. His mindset was very relaxed. ’Tonight, I’ll just sing my heart out first and worry about the rest later. All those songs I never dared to touch or choose before, I’ll sing them if I feel like it.’

He tilted his head and stole a glance at Yunqing.

She was watching him with a beaming smile, her eyes sparkling. Her expression clearly said she was waiting for a disaster to unfold.

’Fine, you just wait.’

"The first song is Lin Junjie’s ’A Song Written for No One,’ for all of you."

From the speakers on either side of the stage, a clean piano intro spread out like ripples on water.

A few uncertain claps sounded from the audience, but they were mostly drowned out by hushed whispers.

In the large booth by the window, Yunqing’s eyes widened. She was clearly stunned. "He’s actually singing this one?"

The girl with twin pigtails sitting next to her, He Fei, immediately leaned in and whispered gossipily, "What? What’s wrong with this song?"

Before Yunqing could answer, the guy with glasses across from them adjusted his frames and replied expressionlessly, "Because this song is incredibly difficult. Forget amateurs, even semi-professional singers can easily crash and burn performing it live."

He Fei grinned mischievously. "He Xi, aren’t you known as the Wang Yuyan of the music department? Why don’t you break it down for us?"

He Xi didn’t seem to mind the joke. "You’ll see in a minute," he said calmly. "I’ll just say this: the vocal range jumps from A3 in the verse to C5 in the chorus. That’s a leap of more than an octave, and it requires a seamless switch between chest voice and mixed voice. If even one transition breaks, the entire performance will fall apart."

The words had barely left his mouth when Chen Lin, on the small stage, began to sing—

"Forgive me for this song, written for no one,"

"It feels like the night outside the window."

"There once was that moment,"

"When looking back, I failed to recognize the one whom I must rediscover from memory."

"And the places they cared for,"

"And for the paths I’ve walked, please wait."

He didn’t use any showy vibrato or affected drawls. His voice was clean, his breath control steady, supporting every single word.

A few patrons at the bar who had been chatting trailed off mid-sentence.

At the front two tables, the girls who had been on their phones unconsciously put them back down on the table.

Further back, the noise in the bar began to die down, as if someone were turning down the volume with a remote, notch by notch, until only the backing track and Chen Lin’s voice remained.

At the large booth, Yunqing, Song Cheng, and He Xi all stood up in unison.

The other guys and girls around them also sensed that something was off and exchanged bewildered glances.

"Dreams, watered by effort,"

"Love, pushing from behind."

"When I finally looked up, I realized,"

"Have I forgotten someone?"

"Too tired to sleep the whole night through,"

"But the night is beautiful everywhere."

"There must be someone,"

"Who dodged, evaded, flashed past, and hid away,"

"Who is she, who is she?"

Across the table, a guy couldn’t help but lean closer to He Xi and whisper, "Aren’t these few lines the chorus? Isn’t he singing it pretty well? Were you exaggerating earlier?"

He Xi gave him a very slow eye-roll, too lazy to explain. He just raised a single index finger to his lips in a "shush" gesture.

The stage lights carved out the clean lines of Chen Lin’s silhouette.

He sang with restraint, without forcing it, yet he connected the high notes of the chorus with an almost effortless mixed voice. It was like pulling an extremely thin thread taut, without a single tremble or break. Even the breath control between words was almost unnaturally steady.

Qi Wanwan suddenly felt a barely perceptible tremor in Song Cheng’s hand, which she had been holding all along.

She subconsciously tightened her grip.

Yunqing, however, stared intently at the stage, a complex mix of emotions flashing in her eyes: surprise, disbelief, curiosity, and an admiration she couldn’t suppress.

...

"Forgive me, this song"

"Written for no one"

"It feels like the night outside the window"

"There was that moment, looking back"

"I couldn’t even recognize"

"The one I must rediscover from memory"

"And the places they cared for"

"And those paths I’ve walked"

"Dreams, watered by effort"

"Love, pushing from behind"

"When I looked up, I realized"

"Have I forgotten someone"

...

He didn’t deliberately imitate the original singer’s choked-up, emotional tone.

Line by line, he brought out the emotion—exhaustion, forgetfulness, and an indescribable tenderness.

"Love, pushing from behind."

"When I finally looked up, I realized,"

"Have I forgotten someone?"

"Too tired to sleep the whole night through,"

"But the night is beautiful everywhere."

"There must be a she,"

"Who dodged, evaded, flashed past, and hid away,"

"Who is she, who is she, who is she?"

The final note cut off cleanly, landing just half a beat before the drum hit.

Chen Lin himself was very satisfied.

He had sung this song for his buddies in the dorm before, but he’d lost control every time he reached the high notes. Today, he finally felt vindicated.

’The "Little Singer" title really gave me a solid buff to my vocal technique. If nothing else, it’s done wonders for my morale.’

When he came back to his senses, the bar was eerily quiet.

After two seconds, "WHOOSH—!"

Cheers crashed over him like a wave. Applause came in torrents, one wave after another. Someone whistled, and someone else shouted directly, "That was incredible!"

Many people pulled out their phones to scan the QR code and tip while they applauded. The DJ at the counter opportunely switched on his mic, his magnetic voice coming online again: "Thanks to all our generous patrons for tipping this handsome guy—896 yuan!"

Mixed in with the cheers were the screams of several girls: "Another one!" "Don’t stop singing Lin Junjie songs!"

Over at the large booth, He Fei came to her senses and tugged on He Xi’s sleeve. "It sounded really good to me, but was it really better than Song Cheng’s performance just now? Can you analyze it for us?"

He Xi saw that Yunqing and Song Cheng still seemed to be processing what they’d heard. Looking slightly awkward, he pushed up his glasses. "Well, the two songs have different points of focus. The song Song Cheng just sang, ’You,’ leans more toward storytelling and emotional delivery. With Chen Lin’s song, the most noteworthy aspect is the vocal technique, especially the pitch and rhythm. From a technical standpoint, his performance was incredibly strong. At least, I couldn’t hear any mistakes. What’s even harder is that he hid the transitions between chest and mixed voice so cleanly, and his breath management was flawless. That’s real, solid skill."

The guy next to him couldn’t help but ask again, "Well, if Chen Lin can sing this song, surely Song Cheng can too, right?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Song Cheng turned around. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the surrounding noise. "I can’t."

Everyone, except for Yunqing, froze.

"Huh?"

Song Cheng gave a wry smile, speaking with frank honesty, "To consistently smooth over those transition points in a live performance... that’s very difficult for me, too. I could try to force my way through it, but if I crash and burn, it would be extremely ugly."

After he said that, the expressions on the faces of those around them grew even more complicated.

Song Cheng turned his head to ask Yunqing, "Is he really not a professional?"

Yunqing pulled her gaze back from the stage and recalled the information she’d gathered on Chen Lin. "He shouldn’t be. In last year’s campus singing competition, he only passed the open auditions and the first round before being eliminated."

"He got this strong in less than a year?" Qi Wanwan muttered in disbelief.

Although she was a folk dance major, she was a fan of Lin Junjie. The version just now might not have had the mature emotional depth of the original recording, but it was clean, stable, and easy on the ears. It was truly excellent.

Yunqing couldn’t figure it out either. ’With my knowledge of the school’s music scene, if there were really a technical powerhouse like him, it’s impossible that I wouldn’t have heard a single peep about it.’

The fervent discussion in the bar hadn’t ended, but Song Cheng had already stood up and was walking toward the stage.

All eyes in the bar instantly converged on the stage once more.