Chapter 130: Let Me Treat You Well from Now On!-Fiery King of the Underworld(Willow Whisper)

A kindness received when one is in need should be repaid with a gushing spring. Tang Zhong did not want Li Qiang to be affected by Hua Ming’s "negligence," so he decided to step up and turn the tide.

To his surprise, everyone treated him like a madman or a lunatic.

Li Qiang clearly did not believe Tang Zhong could sing the song well. He waved his hand and said, "Tang Zhong, I understand your intentions. This isn't about who goes on stage—it’s about who can sing this song well. If we could pick any song, I wouldn't mind you going up to sing something you’re good at. But this song is extremely difficult. If you go up there and go off-key... perhaps we should think about whether there’s anyone else. There are plenty of freshmen this year; there must be many who can sing well, right?"

"That’s right," Wang Aiguo chimed in. "Tang Zhong, don’t be impulsive. We need to go on stage and perform this song with some level of quality—even if it’s not top-ten singer material, we can’t have the audience cursing us out, can we?"

"..."

Wang Aiguo was even more skeptical of Tang Zhong’s ability. In his mind, the moment the "loser" Tang Zhong stepped on stage and opened his mouth, countless people would likely be throwing shoes and bricks at him, demanding he get off.

Hua Ming’s words left Li Qiang and Wang Aiguo in despair. Squatting inside the stall, he shouted, "Second brother, don't mess around! Singing is an art, not a street fight; it doesn't suit you... Besides, I’ve never heard you sing in the dorm. If it really comes down to it, I’ll stuff some toilet paper down the back of my pants and go up there to roar for a few minutes. If you guys could find a girl to get me a sanitary pad, that would be even better—leak-proof..."

Li Qiang’s eyes lit up; he felt that this might actually work. As long as Hua Ming could get on stage, even if he couldn't perform at full capacity, even at seventy or fifty percent... surely he would still be better than Tang Zhong?

Just as Li Qiang was about to agree, a series of "pfft-pfft-pfft" sounds echoed from the stall...

Consequently, the three of them fled in a panic, completely abandoning Hua Ming. If he were standing on stage in the middle of a high note and suddenly let out a sound like that—would the Psychology Department have any face left?

"If you can find a more suitable candidate, I have no desire to be in the spotlight either," Tang Zhong said with a solemn expression as he stood by the air vent. "But there’s no time left. Our department is up next. If we don't find someone, the introduction will start before we know it. Tell you what, I’ll sing a few lines a cappella. If you think it’s acceptable, I’ll go on stage. If not, hurry and have them delay the program—try to buy us some time."

Without waiting for their agreement, Tang Zhong began to sing, not even bothering to gather his emotions first.

...

Women love beauty, and men love beautiful women.

The female host changed outfits repeatedly, but the male host, Zhao Qiuchen, who was wearing the same black suit as before, returned to the stage to make the announcement. He scanned the auditorium and said in a clear voice, "Now, let us invite Hua Ming, a freshman from the Psychology Department, to bring us 'I Am a Wolf from the North.' Please give him a round of applause."

*Clap, clap...*

Applause broke out. Not much, not little—just polite encouragement.

The lighting technician dimmed the stage. When the lights came up again, a boy in a plaid shirt and glasses was standing there.

"Hm?" Jiao Yuheng, sitting in the section reserved for leaders, let out a sound of confusion. Didn't the program list a student named Hua Ming to sing "I Am a Wolf from the North"? Why was Tang Zhong on stage?

He checked the program again; it definitely said Hua Ming. "What is going on?" he wondered.

"Old Jiao, isn't that a student from your department? Do you know him?" asked Xiong Zhengfei, the dean of the School of Literature, who was sitting next to him with a smile.

"I know him," Jiao Yuheng nodded, though the name didn't match.

"Well? How is his singing? Can he make the campus top ten?"

"...He hasn't started yet. Listen carefully," Jiao Yuheng said dismissively. He had never heard Tang Zhong sing, either.

It wasn't just Dean Jiao in the front row; the students from the Psychology Department in the back were equally bewildered. Wasn't it supposed to be Hua Ming? Why was Tang Zhong on stage? What kind of game were they playing?

Jiao Nanxin, sitting among the girls, looked at Tang Zhong on stage, her heart full of questions. She loved sports but was only average at singing, so when Tang Zhong asked if she wanted to sign up, she had firmly refused. She hadn't expected him to go up there himself. And what about Hua Ming? Wasn't he chosen? Even if she racked her brains, she could never have imagined the ridiculous mishap of Hua Ming having diarrhea and Tang Zhong stepping in to replace him.

The woman in the white dress, standing in a corner on the second floor, raised her elegant eyebrows slightly as she saw Tang Zhong appear on stage. "Is the attention you've gathered outside not enough? Why must you stand on stage and put yourself in such a precarious position?"

The mere act of her frowning made the boys nearby, who had been stealing glances at her, feel as if they had been electrocuted, wishing they could hold her in their arms and comfort her.

Students from other departments didn't know Tang Zhong, so they had no idea that the "Hua Ming" on stage wasn't actually Hua Ming. Just as many were scratching their heads in confusion, the prelude to "I Am a Wolf from the North" began to play over the auditorium speakers.

Tang Zhong stood in the center of the stage, his mind clear, focusing only on the lyrics of a song he hadn't sung in a long time. He had once bought tapes of Qi Qin’s albums, but as years passed and playback devices changed, everyone was now listening to "The Phoenix Legend" on their phones, and his tapes no longer had a place. He had, however, heard Hua Ming practice it several times. After Hua Ming’s entry was accepted, the computer in their dorm had played it on loop. Anyone who opened their door would have thought they’d walked into a wolf’s den.

He knew he couldn't replicate the tragic, mournful feeling that Hua Ming brought to it, but he had his own little bit of sorrow.

*Sorrow, but not despair.* That was the emotion he wanted to convey.

He tried to keep his head down as much as possible, not wanting too many people to see his face clearly. Fortunately, the Mingli Auditorium didn't have the giant screens typically used at celebrity concerts that could project his expressions in high definition. To those sitting far away, he was likely just a silhouette.

"I am a wolf from the north."

As Tang Zhong began, the room fell silent. Clearly, they were waiting for a more impressive performance.

As Tang Zhong poured more emotion into the song, and as the performance brought a more visceral experience to the audience—the feeling of being utterly alone with nowhere to go—the applause erupted like thunder.

When Tang Zhong sang the line, "I can only grit my cold teeth and let out two long howls," the crowd below suddenly boiled over.

Screams. Whistles. Countless people stood up, clapping frantically.

This left Tang Zhong confused. The song wasn't even over; why were they applauding so intensely? Was it possible that the last two lines he sang were just that good?

"Qiu Yihan!"

...

They were screaming a single name in a frenzy, pouring out their emotions hysterically.

Only then did Tang Zhong realize their enthusiasm had nothing to do with his singing and everything to do with the person herself. The crowd was of one mind. Tonight belonged to Qiu Yihan; her name echoed through the Mingli Auditorium.

"Qiu Yihan!"

...

The song could no longer continue, for no one wanted to hear it.

Following the audience’s gaze, he looked toward the right corner of the stage. In the actor's section in the front row, a girl wearing a black silk cocktail dress was running frantically toward the stage. The large white silk flower pinned to her hair had fallen off at some point, leaving her hair messy and her appearance somewhat disheveled. Perhaps she wasn't used to wearing high heels; as she climbed the steps toward the stage, her foot twisted, and one shoe flew off, landing on the floor below.

She frowned, feeling a sharp pain. She glanced at the shoe, hesitated for a moment, and decided to leave it behind. She turned and ran toward the center of the stage where Tang Zhong stood.

With one leg long and the other short, her gait was strange and comical. Yet, this innocent and naive girl didn't know to take off the other shoe to regain her balance.

She stumbled and wobbled until she stood before Tang Zhong, her face a mix of smiles and tears. In her hands, she clutched a bouquet of bright red roses, the color of which matched her flushed cheeks.

She was panting heavily, her chest heaving like a frightened dove. She rarely exercised; this short dash had exhausted every ounce of her strength. Standing before Tang Zhong, looking at his face just inches away, she felt her legs turn to jelly.

"I..." she started to speak, but tears began to stream down her face. She just wanted to cry—she couldn't help it, couldn't stop it, couldn't hold it back. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, leaving her small nostrils reddened by the rough motion.

"I lost my shoe," Qiu Yihan choked out.

"I’ll go get it for you," Tang Zhong said with a smile. He looked earnestly at this pitiful, adorable girl, his heart melting.

"No," Qiu Yihan grabbed his sleeve. "I know you must hate me. Hate me to death. I hate myself, too."

As she spoke, she cried, and as she cried, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"I didn't come up here to ask you to keep being good to me. I just... I just wanted to ask you for one chance."

She held out the bouquet of roses, her voice trembling. "From now on, let me be good to you... *sob*..."