Superstars of Tomorrow

Indeed, Mo Lang’s 10-minute piece was eyed by teachers in every major music academy as a potential exam question as soon as it debuted. It was exam time, after all; the teachers had to get creative.

Every year, outstanding pieces were used as exam questions, and Mo Lang’s was a shoo-in. He was a master to begin with, and the song was top-notch. The piece was impossible to pass on.

Ever since he had advanced in age, Mo Lang only released a song every two or three years, and every release was a curveball. Teachers immediately saw potential in "Legend" as a possible critical analysis or rearrangement question or essay topic.

Just as music students from different departments had suspected, the complexity of the piece was Mo Lang’s way of showing off. The questions asked by Mo Lang’s piece were all tough ones. The average student struggled to answer one of them, let alone every single question.

Many students started brainstorming. Since they knew that Master Mo Lang’s piece was a likely exam question, they had to prepare in advance.

Should they seek outside help?

Yet folks who had made their presence known on similar occasions in the past—tutors from music cram schools and the authors of prominent textbooks—kept a much lower profile this time around.

The leading cram school tutors were at a loss too. There didn’t seem to be an easy solution.

They didn’t dare comment on the piece. We barely understand it. Who are we to counsel others? What if we’re wrong? That’d be career suicide.

The composer was Mo Lang, after all. What a legendary figure. His technique was beyond the grasp of the average musician.

Should they ask Mo Lang himself, then?

Stop bullsh*tting!

Was it so easy to gain access to a master musician who was a national treasure? Not to mention that Mo Lang was quite old. He had limited energy and his body couldn’t keep up. There was only so much he could do.

After pondering the matter repeatedly, the students realized that approaching Fang Zhao was the easiest move.

Fang Zhao was young, so there wasn’t a generation gap to consider. Plus, Fang Zhao had been involved in the composing of the song. He was somewhat of an authority too.

The students of Qi’an Academy of Music were the first to reach out to Fang Zhao. They were all "senior alum" this and "senior alum" that, fully taking advantage of the old-boy connection.

It wasn’t only the students. The teachers who planned on using "Legend" as an exam question also consulted Fang Zhao.

As for Fang Zhao, he didn’t mind offering his thoughts. It was easy for him. When he had been working on the song with Mo Lang, they had had wide-ranging discussions. He knew Mo Lang’s creative philosophy well. The only thing was that Mo Lang was still the author of the song. Whether or not he should speak up, how much he should reveal—these were matters he still had to consult Venerable Mo on.

Mo Lang was actually quite delighted when Fang Zhao reached out.

"This is a good thing!"

From Mo Lang’s perspective, his body couldn’t cope, so it was impossible for him to lecture at length. But if it were up to him to choose someone to speak on the topic, his first choice would be Fang Zhao.

He didn’t think that Fang Zhao’s young age reflected a lack of ability. The old man had gotten a good sense of how much Fang Zhao knew when the young composer had still been on Planet Wai. As far as he was concerned, Fang Zhao would do just fine as a lecturer.

Mo Lang already enjoyed considerable stature and prestige. He had no intention of holding back his talent and knowledge at this stage. He was more than willing to share his wisdom and insight with the next generation.

It wasn’t that Mo Lang ever withheld in his teaching, but now that he was so advanced in age, and he had gained new insight during the creative process for "Legend." Why leave any stone unturned at this stage?

Passing the torch, a key theme in his work, was very important to him.

As a teacher, he had the responsibility to spread his knowledge, train disciples, and dispel confusion. The future of the industry depended on the next generation. Mo Lang hoped to see innovation and breakthroughs in all musical genres.

"Fang Zhao, do speak up!" Mo Lang was very supportive. "If I weren’t encumbered by my poor health, I’d go on a global lecture tour!"

After receiving Mo Lang’s go-ahead, Fang Zhao approached HuangArt for a venue where he could broadcast his lecture live.

Yes, he could have lectured from his dorm room, but HuangArt had professional lecture halls for live broadcasts. The rent wasn’t that expensive. As long as one could secure a room, the rest was easy. The only requirement for booking a lecture hall was that one had to broadcast through HuangArt’s own website.

The leadership at HuangArt wasn’t about to stall Fang Zhao on this matter, not to mention that he had Mo Lang’s backing. His request was approved immediately and he was allocated a prime lecture hall that had recently been upgraded with live broadcast equipment.

Once he got approval, Fang Zhao studied his own class schedule and decided on a timetable for his lectures.

Tentatively, there were three lectures scheduled, each lasting an hour. They were free to watch.

This was what the HuangArt officials in charge of the school’s online curriculum had suggested.

Given Fang Zhao’s current seniority, he wouldn’t be able to command a very high viewing fee. Mo Lang also had to be taken into consideration. The fee couldn’t be too low, out of respect for Mo Lang’s stature. Still, Fang Zhao wasn’t short of cash, so they decided to keep things simple and make the lectures free. Master-level teachers had done the same in the past. It was a form of pro bono work, a token of encouragement and support for young musicians.

The news of Fang Zhao’s upcoming online lectures on "Legend" was first spread by the students of QiMu and HuangArt. Students from the leading music academies in other continents soon caught wind from chat groups and online forums.

Many folks tuned in to partake in the spectacle. The lectures were free, after all. Giving them a listen didn’t cost a cent. But there were also folks that felt that there was no such thing as a free lunch. Fang Zhao was bound to withhold the good stuff, so the lectures were a waste of time.

It was up to the masses to decide whether or not to tune in. Fang Zhao couldn’t force the issue.

The three lectures were scheduled for three separate days, but cumulatively, they would not last more than three hours. Fang Zhao showed Mo Lang his lecture outline.

"You’ve done a decent job. Just stick to this outline. Knock ’em dead! I will tune in."

While Mo Lang was only listening in on the lectures, he occasionally posted a thought or two. He couldn’t physically deliver a full lecture now, but he was still fully capable of offering a thought or two every lecture.

But that got some of Mo Lang’s disciples jealous. "Teacher is playing favorites!"

Mo Lang had so many students. In terms of seniority, stature, and academic achievement, any one of them was far superior to Fang Zhao.

But Mo Lang had no patience for the jealousy. "What can I do? On the matter of this piece alone, Fang Zhao knows me the best. He also has enough professional knowledge to lecture on the topic. You guys don’t know me well enough. You can’t capture what I want to convey."

Several of Mo Lang’s disciples were incredulous. They also tuned in to Fang Zhao’s lectures.

During the first lecture, Fang Zhao focused on the background of the song and its artistic merits.

"Is that the case? Is that what Teacher Mo meant?" asked one of Mo Lang’s former students.

But every time a disciple posed such a challenge, they were inevitably shot down by Mo Lang. "Indeed. That’s exactly what I meant!"

So much so that the more they listened to Fang Zhao’s lectures, the less they questioned. Or maybe they simply kept their thoughts to themselves. So that’s what Venerable Mo was thinking. I could never tell. Has age changed his perspective?

It wasn’t just Mo Lang’s former students. Many folks tuned in to Fang Zhao’s lectures to enjoy a good show or with skepticism, but gradually, they realized that this Fang Zhao fella’s lectures were very high quality. They were all gems.

Fang Zhao’s gaming and acting fans got word of the lectures and started tuning in too.

"Even though I couldn’t understand a single sentence, I still felt that it was kick-ass."

"So Zhao God is truly a music professional! I thought it was a joke."

Out of the online audience of some 20 million for Fang Zhao’s first lecture, only one-tenth were music students. The remaining viewers were either fans or random spectators.

On day two, Fang Zhao moved on to composition technique. The number of music professionals tuning in jumped by 1 million. Students who had skipped yesterday’s lecture showed up today. They realized that Fang Zhao’s every utterance might be considered a model answer on their upcoming exams. It was better to hit record first and decipher his words later. Students who were lacking in analytical skills committed the lecture to memory. At least they wouldn’t turn in a blank exam.

The number of music professionals tuning in on day two had increased, but the overall viewership actually increased by 20 million! In contrast, 1 million more music professionals wasn’t much to write home about.

"The music professionals are a minority here. Most of the viewers are fans of Fang Zhao, no?"

"No wonder producers like to invite top celebrities to join live broadcasts. They have a built-in audience," another view lamented.

"What a smart PR move by HuangArt!"

Because the second lecture touched on some key points and important techniques, the music professionals tuning in paid close attention. Those who couldn’t keep up with the lecture rewatched the archived video after class.

Fang Zhao was also very focused.

The vocal reminder on Fang Zhao’s bracelet sounded before the online audience of some 40 million. "Ding! You have received an important email. Please take a look."

Fang Zhao paused briefly before resuming, but he ignored his bracelet as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

But some of the folks watching the lecture took issue.

"It’s best that you turn off your notifications while lecturing. It’s a form of professional courtesy."

"That’s right. We turn off our notifications when we lecture too. Otherwise, your flow and rhythm will be interrupted. We’re also concerned about affecting our students."

"Aiya, Fang Zhao is still young, after all. He’s inexperienced. He just has to pay attention next time. My fellow professionals tuning in, there’s no need to be too harsh."

Fang Zhao’s fans:

"So it turns out the vocal reminder on Zhao God’s bracelet is the default one."

"I remember when this voice first came out. Everyone complained it was ’as stiff and emotionless as a stone’."

"I haven’t heard the default voice in a long time. So they haven’t changed the voice, have they?"

"Hahahaha... My granddad uses the same voice!"

The chitchat continued until the following comment: "Do you guys know what the email he just received is about? If not, check out the press release the Galaxy Awards organizing committee just put out! The winners of the Galaxy Supernova Prize have been announced! Fang Zhao is among the 10 winners!"

"So it’s possible that Fang Zhao had set his notifications to mute, but the email from the Galaxy Awards organizers was categorized as extra important? And that’s why his vocal reminder was triggered?"

"That can’t be it. If it was a message from the Galaxy Awards organizers, why didn’t he read the email?"

Mo Lang, who was listening in on the lecture, also noticed the announcement from the Galaxy organizers. He made the connection to the vocal reminder he had just heard during Fang Zhao’s lecture. "Ha! This fella is quite something," he blurted with a chuckle.

This was probably the first time in history someone had been able to ignore a prize-notification email from the Galaxy Awards organizers and keep lecturing calmly.

More and more folks searched the internet to verify the news. When they managed to do so, they scrambled back to the online lecture to post comments.

"Zhao God! You’ve won!"

"You’ve won a major prize! Aren’t you going to take a look?"

"Hurry, check out the email you just received!"

"If it were me, I’d screw the lecture and read the email first!"

"Now this is a masterful display of god-level composure!"

"So the award citation refers to his ’special contribution in curing the Hull virus.’ What the heck? Isn’t the Galaxy Award an arts prize? They don’t have a medical category, do they?"

"New fan? It’s a long story. Please conduct a search for news items related to the four chapters of the ’100-Year Period of Destruction’ series."

More and more folks found out about Fang Zhao’s Supernova win, but Fang Zhao continued his lecture at his usual tempo even though the comments section for the online lecture had already been flooded with messages urging him to read his email.

At the retirement home for former government officials in Yanbei.

Great-Grandfather Fang was watching the live broadcast. He learned of Fang Zhao’s win through the comments section and confirmed the news on the Galaxy Awards’ official website. He was in tears, his voice hoarse from screaming in celebration.

Great-Grandfather Fang felt that this went beyond a family honor. As the only Yanzhou native to win a Supernova Award this year, Fang Zhao was the pride of the continent no doubt, but as one of the major players behind the curing of the Hull virus, he was a credit to all mankind!

"Our Xiao Zhao... How come he’s so competent?"

Great-Grandfather Fang’s emotions began spiraling out of control. He was so moved that he was covered in tears and snot. He turned his head to discover Great-Grandmother Fang had been filming him all along.

Great-Grandfather Fang: "Burp!"