assistirfilmes Chapter 133 Folk songs are not dead, they have just changed their way of living.
Chapter 133 Folk songs are not dead, they have just changed their way of living.
"What brought tears to my eyes wasn't just the alcohol from last night."
What I'm reluctant to part with isn't just your gentleness.
The moment the first sentence was uttered, the room fell silent.
These lyrics are so specific.
It was so vivid that I could almost see the small tavern at the end of the road, the lights under the Nine-Eyed Bridge, and the person holding my hand tightly, refusing to let go.
In the audience, a man in his thirties covered his mouth.
He is from Chengdu and has been working in Lin'an for ten years. He hasn't been back for a long time.
Hearing this song now brings back a flood of long-forgotten memories—the little bar on Yulin Road, the teahouse in People's Park, the crowds on Chunxi Road, and my ex-girlfriend with whom I broke up in Jinli.
"How much longer do we have to walk?" you asked, holding my hand.
What troubles me is the struggle for freedom.
Wang Bo's singing was devoid of any flashy techniques; it was simply a straightforward storytelling.
His voice was warm with a slight huskiness, and his pronunciation was clear and natural, each word like a gentle touch on the heart.
The guitar music flowed like a gentle stream, and the lighting technician cast a warm yellow light, making the entire stage seem as if it were bathed in the glow of the setting sun.
In front of the screen.
Chen Tao had forgotten about eating peanuts; his eyes were glued to the television.
When Wang Bo sang, "Walk with me on the streets of Chengdu, until all the lights go out and we don't stop," Chen Tao's tears streamed down his face.
He recalled the three months he spent interning in Chengdu during his university years.
He remembered the noodle shop next to his internship company, where a bowl of dan dan noodles cost three yuan and was so spicy that he was sweating profusely.
I thought of my roommate, who would smoke on the balcony every night and talk about unattainable dreams.
He remembered the rainy day they broke up in Kuanzhai Alley. The girl walked into the crowd without looking back, and he stood there, watching her figure disappear into the rain.
"Chengdu..." Chen Tao muttered to himself, "It's been so long since I've been back."
On stage, Wang Bo was completely immersed in his singing, his fingers dancing lightly on the strings.
In the second chorus, children's voices suddenly join in.
A group of children in neat school uniforms walked silently onto the stage, stood in two rows, and sang the chorus with clear and pure voices.
"Let's take a walk on the streets of Chengdu, oh oh..."
They didn't stop until all the lights were turned off.
The vicissitudes of adulthood intertwined with the purity of children's voices, creating a sense of temporal and spatial displacement that instantly shattered the psychological defenses of countless people.
Some audience members have already started wiping away tears.
A woman in her forties covered her face, her shoulders trembling—she had studied at university in Chengdu twenty years ago, then married and moved to Lin'an, and had never returned.
A young boy sobbed softly—his graduation trip with his ex-girlfriend was to Chengdu. After the breakup, he deleted all the photos, but he couldn't erase the memories of Jinli, Wuhou Temple, and thatched cottage.
Even the other contestants in the backstage lounge were silently watching the screen.
Lin Xiaoya's eyes were already red.
Li Xuan's expression was complicated.
Qin Xiao leaned against the wall with his eyes closed.
Xia Lizhi crossed her arms and looked deep in thought.
Inside the tent in the Western Regions, Zhou Yuji had already forgotten to drink her milk tea.
She stared at Wang Bo's gentle singing on the projection screen, and something about him was a complete mess.
This little man she once thought needed protection has grown into a man capable of supporting himself.
He stood on the stage, radiating brilliance.
He sings other people's stories, yet his songs resonate in everyone's hearts.
Zhou Yuji suddenly remembered her house—the house where she never let anyone stay overnight, not even the Su sisters could stay overnight casually, and now Wang Bo was living there.
Strangely, she didn't feel violated at all; on the contrary, she felt a strange sense of security.
It's like... that house has finally found the person it was meant to wait for.
"I want a home," Zhou Yuji murmured to herself, her voice so soft that only she could hear it. "Not a house, but a home."
The firelight from the stove shone on her face.
Outside the tent, the snow on the Tianshan Mountains shimmered silvery-white under the moonlight.
She suddenly wondered—if she went back now, pushed open that door, and saw Wang Bo sitting on her sofa writing songs, what would that feel like?
It should... be very warm.
On stage, Wang Bo's performance was coming to an end.
"Let's take a walk on the streets of Chengdu, oh oh..."
They didn't stop until all the lights were turned off.
The children's voices joined in again, the singing growing softer and softer, fading into the distance, as if they had truly disappeared into the Chengdu night along with the person in the song.
The guitar music gradually stopped.
Wang Bo put down his guitar and bowed slightly to the audience.
The children bowed in unison.
A few seconds of deathly silence.
Then, applause erupted like a storm.
Many audience members clapped enthusiastically while wiping their eyes.
When the host, Lin Ling, walked onto the stage, her eyes were also red: "Wang Bo... another original song. This song is so touching. Can you talk about the inspiration behind it?"
Wang Bo picked up the microphone, thought for a moment, and said, "A city is not just a geographical coordinate, but also a container of memories. Every city holds some people's youth, love, dreams, and regrets. Chengdu is like that, and every city is like that."
As soon as he finished speaking, applause rang out again.
At this point, the internet was in complete chaos!
On Weibo's trending topics list, #WangBoChengdu# suddenly appeared at number one, followed by the word "explosive".
Hashtags such as #Children'sChoirsChengdu#, #FolkSongsAreNotDead#, and #WangBoAchievedGodhoodAgain# followed closely behind.
Topic Forum.
"I cried like a baby in my dorm again! My roommate asked if I'd broken up with my boyfriend again, and I said I'd lost a whole city!"
"Chengdu native reporting for duty! Wang Bo, you're inhuman! You've made Chengdu sound so beautiful, how am I, a wanderer far from home, supposed to live?!"
"The children's choir section was absolutely breathtaking! The pure children's voices intertwined with the weathered adult voices, creating an amazing sense of dialogue across time and space!"
"As a complete outsider, I used to think folk music was dead, but now... I'm sorry, I was so naive! Wang Bo has breathed new life into folk music!"
"Where's Chen Tao? Chen Tao, come out here! Your brother Bo is going to give you a lecture!"
My WeChat Moments feed was flooded with posts about it.
A programmer from Chengdu, the capital city, said: "I was working overtime until 10 p.m. when I heard the song 'Chengdu.' I stopped in front of the code and cried for ten minutes. I missed home and my mom's twice-cooked pork."
A young, artsy person said: "Some songs, you know you'll want to listen to them on repeat a hundred times just by hearing the intro. 'Chengdu,' thank you, for reminding me of that rainy little town."
A music teacher commented: "Teaching case study +2. What does it mean to 'express the most complex emotions with the simplest imagery'? Every musician should listen to Wang Bo's lesson a second time."
In the viewership monitoring room, the data had already soared to the red line.
"3.3%! It's broken again! A new all-time high!" the staff member shouted excitedly.
Zhao Zhong slumped into his chair, let out a long sigh, and then jumped up: "Quick! Prepare the press release! The fourth episode of 'The Voice of China' has broken 3.3% in ratings, setting a new record for music variety shows!"
Inside the rented room, Chen Tao was already sobbing uncontrollably.
While wiping away tears, he frantically typed on Weibo: "Folk music isn't dead, it just needs a breath of fresh air! Wang Bo did it! He infused folk music with the warmth of the city, the vibrancy of everyday life, and the memories of bygone days! This is true folk music! This is what music should be!"
After posting on Weibo, he turned off his phone and walked to the window.
Outside the window is the city night view, dazzling and bustling, yet also unfamiliar.
Chen Tao suddenly felt like writing a song.
These aren't the sentimental love songs of the past; they're like Wang Bo's songs—songs that are real, relatable, and full of life's warmth and humanity.
"Brother Bo, thank you," Chen Tao said softly. "I know how to write it now."
In the Western Regions, Zhou Yuji turned off the projector and stepped out of the tent.
The night sky over the Tianshan Mountains is filled with countless stars.
She looked up at the starry sky and suddenly smiled.
"Little Wang, I keep my word," she whispered to the night sky. "After I purify your soul, I'll go back and warm your bed."
"But before that..." Her smile deepened, "I need to figure out how to snatch you back from the Su sisters."
"After all, I can warm the bed, but the bed can only belong to me."
The night wind blew by, carrying the crisp, cool scent of the snow-capped mountains.
Zhou Yuji wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and turned to walk back into the tent.
My phone vibrated; it was a WeChat message from Wang Bo.
"Sister Zhou, have you watched the show?"
Zhou Yuji typed with a smile: "I saw it, Xiao Wang made me cry again."
Wang Bo replied, "Wow, Sister Zhou's prediction was spot on!"
Zhou Yuji: "Pah, what are you thinking... I really cried. You sang so well, how could I bear to keep partying outside?"
Wang Bo: "Then come back."
Zhou Yuji stared at those three words for a long time.
Finally, she typed: "Wait for me, sister is almost finished purifying. I'll go back once I've figured out what I want."
"What do you want?"
"I want a home," Zhou Yuji pressed send, "the kind with you in it."
This time, Wang Bo did not reply immediately.
Zhou Yuji wasn't in a hurry. She put away her phone and crawled into her sleeping bag.
Outside the tent, snow was falling silently over the Tianshan Mountains.
Inside the tent, the firelight from the stove flickered gently.
She closed her eyes, and the image of that house appeared in her mind—her house, which is now also Wang Bo's house.
Wang Bo was writing a song on the sofa in the living room.
In the kitchen, she was making milk tea.
On the balcony, his shirt and her skirt were hanging out to dry.
That's home.
Instead of this empty house filled only with expensive furniture and luxury goods.
"Soon," Zhou Yuji murmured to herself. "Once I've thought it through, I'll go back and turn you and the house into a home."
In a rented room, Chen Tao opened his music composition software.
He thought of a certain city, certain times, and certain people who had disappeared from his memory.
Fingers land on the keyboard, and the melody flows out.
This time, it's not a sad love song.
It's a song with warmth.
Folk songs are not dead.
It's just a different way of living.
The person who breathed new life into folk music is currently sitting in Zhou Yuji's house, looking at the city lights outside the window.