Chapter Eighty-Five: The Charity Gala (Part One)

Chapter 85: The Charity Gala (Part One)

In early May, as soon as Zhang Le wrapped up his scenes for "No Way Out," he hurried back to Yanjing to prepare for the charity gala performance he had promised Yang Li. At the event, Zhang Le would sing a song, receiving no appearance fee, yet his dedication surpassed even that for paid commercial performances.

Charity, after all, requires true devotion. Naturally, Yang Xin’er accompanied him.

Filming Zhang Le’s scenes in "No Way Out" took two months—not only because he wasn’t the leading man, but also because Director Chen Ke had intentionally scheduled his scenes earlier. Otherwise, by the time shooting for the film fully concluded, Zhang Le might not have made it in time for the charity event.

“I heard you took Director Chen Ke’s new film. I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it,” Yang Li said, glancing at Zhang Le with a smile, surprised to see him at rehearsal.

“Since I promised, I’ll do my best to keep my word,” Zhang Le replied with a gentle smile.

“Then help me review the ‘Thousand-Handed Goddess’ dance. See if there’s anything that needs improvement,” Yang Li said. “Who would have thought you’d be so talented in dance as well, Genius Zhang truly lives up to his name! If you ever switch to dance, the rest of us might be out of work.”

“Teacher Yang, you flatter me. I only talk on paper,” Zhang Le replied, shaking his head.

All he had done was sketch out the choreography for "Thousand-Handed Goddess" from memory. If he really pursued a career in dance, it wouldn’t be others who went hungry, but himself. Choreographing or even just dancing—it wasn’t his forte.

But in Yang Li’s eyes, Zhang Le was simply being modest. Her comment about losing work if he entered the field was, of course, a joke.

Every time Yang Li thought about receiving Zhang Le’s design for "Thousand-Handed Goddess," she still felt awed. The choreography was worlds apart from what she’d seen in his films. To a dancer of her caliber, one was art, the other mere… well, far less.

The dance was still performed by twenty-one deaf-mute dancers. With Yang Li's international reputation and Zhang Le’s original design as reference, the final performance was even more breathtaking than the first time Zhang Le had seen the piece.

“I never imagined such a stunning dance could have originated as a comic sequence in a film,” Yang Xin’er remarked, only regaining her composure after a long moment.

“It’s not just the choreography that’s moving, but the dancers themselves,” Zhang Le said with emotion. “Teacher Yang, you must have overcome countless difficulties during rehearsals.”

“The dancers?” Yang Xin’er looked at the two of them with curiosity.

“They’re all from an art troupe for people with disabilities. They can’t hear or speak. Didn’t you notice the four sign language interpreters around the stage?” Zhang Le explained.

Yang Xin’er’s eyes widened in shock, then glistened with tears. She said nothing more, deeply aware of how much more effort it took for someone with a disability to achieve what others took for granted.

“In the beginning, there were only eleven dancers, but gradually the group grew,” Yang Li said, her smile full of pride and satisfaction.

“Director Zhang, give us some pointers! Don’t hold back if anything can be improved,” Yang Li continued.

“Please, Teacher Yang, don’t tease me. This already exceeds imagination,” Zhang Le replied with a wave of his hand. “What was a comic film sequence in my hands has become a classic with yours.”

“You designed more than half of this,” Yang Li protested.

“I just made a few suggestions,” Zhang Le demurred. The dance now was quite different from the one he remembered, and even more powerful.

This charity gala was organized by Yang Li, with enormous support from the national broadcaster—not only was there live coverage, but the stage itself was provided.

Both Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er were familiar with this stage; they’d stood on it just that past New Year’s Eve.

It was the Spring Festival Gala stage, though naturally redesigned for the occasion. Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er took their performances seriously, attending every rehearsal without the slightest airs.

On May 19th, National Day for Assisting Persons with Disabilities, the charity gala went ahead as scheduled.

With Yang Li’s extensive connections and the broadcaster’s support, the event was grand, drawing many big names—including superstars of the highest order.

For entertainment celebrities, participating in charity also adds a dazzling aura to their image. Unless there was a scheduling conflict, few would decline the invitation. And with Yang Li at the helm and the broadcaster’s backing, it was clear the event had official support.

Many stars didn’t care about appearance fees, but about the exposure and influence that came with such an event.

The hosts were also top figures in the industry, familiar faces from recent Spring Festival Galas.

Yang Xin’er’s performance was scheduled to open the gala.

This surprised no one, but when viewers saw the words in the corner of their TV screens, they were taken aback.

A new song, “Invisible Wings,” with lyrics and music by Zhang Le, and dance accompaniment by students from a school for the deaf.

Yang Xin’er wore a simple white dress—one glance and the word “pure” came to mind.

Each time, growing stronger through loneliness. Each time, refusing to cry no matter how much it hurts. I know I have a pair of invisible wings, carrying me, flying above despair…

A gentle, comforting folk song, full of emotion. It gave listeners a special strength and moved them to face life with courage.

At this moment, such a song was a perfect choice. The audience immediately understood: Yang Xin’er was chosen to open not for her fame, but for this song.

The song was a highlight, but so were the dancers—students from the school for the deaf. Their performance was not dance in the traditional sense, but a sign language interpretation of the lyrics.

To translate a song’s lyrics into sign language on stage was deeply meaningful. This “dance” held a unique beauty, more moving than any choreography could be.

Both Yang Xin’er and Zhang Le participated in this charity event. Yang Xin’er debuted a new song, one so perfectly tailored to the gala that it was clear Zhang Le had written it specifically for the occasion.

So, what would Zhang Le perform?

No one doubted he’d bring a new song. No one questioned the speed at which he produced new material; by now, it was expected.

Both the live audience and viewers at home waited with anticipation for his performance.

With Yang Xin’er’s recent award and her promotion of “Dragon Inn,” she’d been in the media spotlight. Zhang Le, too, had won Best Original Song for a Film, receiving acclaim for his “Red Dust Inn.” Both were frequent faces in the press.

But what truly stunned everyone was that Zhang Le did not appear on stage to perform. Instead, a dance associated with him, choreographed with Yang Li, left everyone in awe.

Working together, Zhang Le and the renowned dancer Yang Li had transformed a comic dance from Zhang Le’s film “Crazy Stone” into something profoundly moving.

When the dance ended, neither the audience in the theater nor those watching at home cared whose contribution was greater—Zhang Le’s or Yang Li’s. They were left speechless by the brilliance of the performance.

This was a charity gala for people with disabilities, yet it was the performers with disabilities who conquered the entire audience with their artistry. The dance alone would have been stunning; knowing the dancers were deaf-mute made it all the more powerful.

Without a doubt, this was the most spectacular act of the evening.