Chapter Forty-Nine: To the Unknown, I Raise a Toast in Your Honor

“Very good.”

As Qi Yuan finished singing, Yu Wei was the first to applaud. He wasn’t doing it for the live broadcast audience; Qi Yuan truly sang quite well today.

In the novel, he had the protagonist give “Dust Together” a score of 7.5—above average but not outstanding. However, for today’s rendition, he would give it an 8.

The song felt a bit grandiose and empty, yet Qi Yuan’s emotional delivery more than made up for it. It seemed he had genuinely found his own humble path.

No matter the final outcome today, Qi Yuan had gained something.

Yu Wei didn’t hold back and straightforwardly offered his opinion, which Qi Yuan naturally understood, nodding with a smile.

“If that’s already an eight, can you sing a nine?”

“Eight points? What about the remaining ninety-two?”

“Only eight? I was moved to tears.”

“Understand ‘Dust Together’ and still give it just eight? Wishful thinking?”

Qi Yuan’s fans and random netizens were mingling, making it hard for Yu Wei to tell who was who. Sometimes, the frantic efforts of random commenters paled compared to the genuine emotions of the fans.

The entertainment industry was bleak, but the comment section was undergoing a renaissance of artistry.

Yu Wei said no more. He rose and sat down by the piano, closed his eyes, spread his fingers, and gently caressed the black and white keys.

Then, he moved... but nothing happened. Yu Wei feigned a motion, raising his hand but not pressing down.

“The author sure knows how to cut chapters.”

“You even have to drag it out when playing the piano?”

Netizens had just hurled a couple of insults when suddenly several skeptical comments appeared in the live chat, all criticizing Yu Wei’s piano skills.

What the heck? Yu Wei hadn’t even played yet.

It was hard to guess who had sent those disparaging comments...

Turns out, it was a feint—a false move to trick the audience.

The few who prematurely posted negative remarks felt a bit embarrassed; who knew this guy was playing them all along?

Now that he had shown his hand early, further attacks wouldn’t work later...

While everyone was busy enjoying the fan drama, Yu Wei suddenly began to play. The piano sounded unexpectedly, catching even Qi Yuan half a beat off guard.

There was no beautiful prelude or flashy technique. Yu Wei simply played a few simple notes repeatedly without pause.

Yet this simple melody gave a strange sense of familiarity, as if it had been heard many times before despite being new.

After repeating the melody three times, two heavy chords struck, and with the fourth repetition, Yu Wei began to sing.

“I am the nameless one on this road,
No news, no one’s comment,
Fighting with all my might just to earn an ordinary script,
Twists and turns only for survival.”

He changed his singing style?

Qi Yuan instantly recognized Yu Wei’s shift in technique. Abandoning breathy tones, he used chest resonance to convey the power of silence.

This was completely different from Yu Wei’s previous two songs, which were somewhat technical. “The Nameless One” was simple in both lyrics and melody, sung in a straightforward, confiding manner.

He analyzed it professionally, but to other listeners, the song evoked a different feeling.

Not to the point of tears after just a few lines, but when hearing “I am the nameless one on this road,” their hearts skipped a beat.

Over the years, countless musicians and films have told stories of the so-called “ordinary people,” waving the flag of common folk, yet invariably narrating from a privileged perspective.

They lack big houses, designer cosmetics, or endless positivity. They don’t love their work, nor do they throw things in customers’ faces when treated badly...

What mindset praises suffering?

What agenda is there in vilifying the poor?

No one can represent them, nor do they deserve representation. Everyone is just an ordinary person without a name.

Even if they give their all, they can only get the most ordinary scripts.

The opening lines of this song already surpass those lofty works by countless degrees.

“I am the one who left the small town,
The one who ate meals with laughter and tears,
The traveler, the breadwinner,
The silent backdrop of the city.”

In any lifetime, Yu Wei himself is an ordinary person. He left his hometown’s small town, speaks standard Mandarin, but still cherishes his thick hometown accent...

He has his shining moments, but also swallows bitterness at mealtime.

Supporting a family is another matter—he can’t even save enough for a bride price.

When the line “the traveler” came, everyone finally understood why the simple melody was so familiar: it repeated like footsteps on a road, deeply imprinted in everyone’s heart.

They had heard it countless times.

“I just want to touch with my own hands
Every bent moment,
Are the soaked footprints left behind worth it?”

Another shift in singing?

The silent outburst turned into oral cavity resonance, a deep tail note transforming the previous confiding tone into what sounded like an ordinary question from a friend: Is it worth it?

Qi Yuan felt a chill run down his scalp at that question. In that cramped artist’s apartment, Yu Wei must have asked himself countless times late at night.

The answer was yes, because everyone moving forward through the steel tide asks themselves the same: Is it really worth it?

They all carry heavy burdens—family responsibilities and dreams—not out of self-pity for life’s hardships, but because there is no other choice.

Even disregarding the expression of the song itself, simply listening, it’s hard not to be moved. Even those who are not ordinary themselves have people struggling beside them.

Everyone is trapped by life yet strives to live better, working their entire lives for it.

Even those who listen with prejudice in front of screens are, in the end, just you, me, and them in life. Though prejudice may not dissolve, at least...

Not today.

“O nameless one, I toast you,
To your silence and every roar.”

If this line were sung at the start, people might think it glorifies suffering and praises ordinariness. But after the gradual buildup, they are more willing to believe these are Yu Wei’s sincere words.

The verses seem plain but serve as a foundation, with simple, steady notes expressing genuine confession, leading to the true theme.

Is a person born ordinary, who strives to change their life, undeserving of respect?

Is one who refuses to bow to life, who battles every setback with effort, undeserving?

Is one who leaves parents and home to bravely move forward undeserving?

This song is not pity, not sympathy, nor a celebration of hardship, but a mutual recognition among ordinary people.

Unlike other songs that praise ordinariness, this one is different because Yu Wei is like them—they don’t understand art, but can tell the difference between sincerity and pretense.

Which of the two songs is better? Even fans of Qi Yuan had their answer long ago, but Yu Wei’s song was only halfway through.

“You come from a southern village,
From rough hands,
You stand in the cracks of buildings,
But you do not retreat.”

If the first part of the song builds the foundation of ordinary music, the second part elevates it into ordinary poetry, still without ornate words, but striking the emotional core through nostalgic memories.

They say don’t kill with memories, because it’s hard to resist.

Yu Wei’s first two love songs weren’t universally relatable, but these lines about hometown and childhood easily touch listeners’ hearts.

Southern villages, northern springs—these emotional symbols transcend regional divides, and the fusion of scene and feeling inevitably resonates.

As the song progressed, the speed of scrolling comments slowed. No one wept as in the novel, but they stayed for this song.

This author has some skill...

“Got it!”

Almost all senior staff at Firefly Huawen were watching the live stream. After hearing “The Nameless One,” their last doubts vanished.

Yu Wei’s song was a perfect answer. Not only did he resolve conflicts successfully, but he also boosted his reputation further. After this song, he had already reached the threshold of the top tier.

Even if Yu Wei did nothing else, once this song spread widely, he would become one of the hottest first-tier singers in the industry, full of limitless potential.

As long as he didn’t cause trouble, his future achievements were unimaginable.

“I told you he’d win.”

Qi Luo’an was squatting on the floor, chin resting on the sofa back. Her hair brushed her ear, which was slightly flushed.

Her eyes half-closed, but the corners of her mouth held an uncontrollable smile. Compared to finally seeing her brother lose, she seemed happier that Yu Wei had won...

A rare treasure finally recognized.

“Lost without regrets.”

Qi Yunming, initially indifferent, was fully captivated by Yu Wei’s performance. Meanwhile, Chen Jinyi, who always cared for her son deeply, lowered her gaze, as if recalling a trivial memory.

She remembered that tall, imposing figure—he was just as incredible. He had once told her that greatness comes from the ordinary.

It seemed so...