Chapter Sixteen: Ma Pingdong's Astonishment

"Will this really work?"
"How will you know if you don't try?"
"But what if people think I'm trying to rob them?"
"Then just drag your third brother over, and simply grin like a fool. Remember, don't speak—let your third brother do the talking. Your job is to smile and watch. Consider it practice for your acting skills."

In front of the Capital Film Academy, Wang Lei leaned on his crutch, imparting his methods to Zhang San and Li Yongxiu.

When it came to the character "Qiu Ya," Zhang San suggested casting an experienced beauty from the People's Art Theatre or another troupe, but Wang Lei believed the role was best suited to a freshman at the Film Academy—someone whose innocence remained intact, whose image fit the part better. As for her acting skills, that could be "coached" later.

It was nearly the start of the school term at universities, so Wang Lei sent Zhang San and Li Yongxiu to wait outside the academy, scouting not just for women but for men as well.

The theater couldn't grow without bringing in professional newcomers. Yet, lacking reputation, they had no choice but to rely on luck—if fortune favored them, perhaps they'd discover a new talent with a passion for performance; if not, at worst, they'd lose a little time and effort.

Leaving the two "ordinary folks" behind, Wang Lei departed alone. The capital was indeed congested, and with the sweltering weather, most people avoided going out unless necessary. But Wang Lei had grown accustomed to his crutch, and, after all, he wasn't short of money.

Returning home and checking the time, Wang Lei then stepped out again, heading for the apartment across the hall.

"Uncle Ma, are you home?"

"Oh, Xiaolei! Come in! I’m just tidying up since I have no classes today. Your aunt left for a business trip to Guiyun this morning. Looks like it'll be just us two bachelors for a while! I was about to look for you, but you weren't in."

"I went out for a stroll just now."

"Uncle Ma, I wanted to ask you something—do you know a reliable recording studio? I have two pieces I’d like to record, and if possible, could you also find a dependable male singer?"

A stage play isn't just actors performing under the lights; the other elements are equally essential—makeup, props, costumes, music, and more. Zhang San could find trustworthy help for makeup and such, but the play "Goodbye Mr. Loser" contained many musical scenes, which were beyond Zhang San’s reach. Wang Lei had to resolve this in advance. Fortunately, he knew a "professional," Ma Pingdong, a senior professor at the Capital Conservatory of Music. In the music world, Ma Pingdong had considerable connections; after all, no one wanted to offend a good-natured, well-connected old friend.

"Have a seat, then. I won’t be formal with you. You know where the water is if you’re thirsty."

"Tell me—what kind of pieces are these? What will they be used for? If they’re suitable, we can go to the academy’s studio—its acoustics are the best."

Ma Pingdong was a little surprised by Wang Lei's request. True, he knew Wang Lei had dabbled in guitar, but only at an amateur level.

"I wrote a story online a while back—you probably saw it, the one on my Xunbo account. A theater near the Fourth Ring wanted to adapt it. I thought, why not? Since I have free time, I decided to invest in that small theater myself and give it a try. The pieces I wrote are based on the story and will serve as background music."

"Do you have sheet music? May I take a look first?"

"Only the guitar chords, to be honest. My skill isn’t up to transcribing scores."

"Haha, that's fine. I saw you and Meimei return with a guitar. Bring it over and play for me. At the very least, I can give you some advice."

When it came to music, Ma Pingdong’s authority asserted itself. Besides, he didn’t stand on ceremony with Wang Lei—he was family, and perhaps soon to be even closer.

"My voice is a bit rough these days, so forgive me if I’m not at my best."

Wang Lei fetched his guitar, first warning Ma Pingdong that his voice seemed irreparably hoarse.

This time, Wang Lei didn’t play Jin Zhiwen’s version of "Goodbye Mr. Loser" from his Earthly past. Instead, he chose the original interlude, "Just Once." The melody was gentle, with slow, steady picking and few chord changes—a simple song, simply sung. But when Wang Lei began, Ma Pingdong couldn’t help but frown.

When he finished, Ma Pingdong was the first to applaud. As a professional, he recognized that while the song might not be groundbreaking for the music world, it was a fine popular piece—straightforward in mode and rhythm, yet with its own theme and emotion. For a popular song, that was enough. Besides, knowing Wang Lei as he did, Ma Pingdong could tell the young man had put real effort into the composition.

"Not bad, not bad! I never realized you had such talent. Had I known, I might have fought your father for you! Good—play the other one too, I’ll listen. If it’s suitable, I’ll find a professional singer for you. Your voice really isn’t right for this kind of song."

Seeing his neighbor’s child perform like this, Ma Pingdong felt genuine gratification, and his hopes for Ma Dongmei and Wang Lei’s future grew. He had always supported Ma Dongmei’s choice, but Wang Lei’s disability was an obstacle, and his wife, Li Weihong, had been firmly opposed. Now, it seemed Wang Lei had found his own path—he could finally speak with confidence.

Following Ma Pingdong’s instructions, Wang Lei played the other piece, "Goodbye Mr. Loser." This melody was closer to the story’s theme, and Wang Lei sang it with deeper emotion. His pure "smoky" voice gave it a unique flavor, seasoned by experience and time.

This time, Ma Pingdong was truly astonished. He might not specialize in pop music, but as an insider with wide experience, he’d assumed Wang Lei’s vocal injury meant the end of his singing. Yet he had to admit that Wang Lei had made this song his own, expressing something new.

As the final notes faded, Wang Lei looked at Ma Pingdong. To his surprise, there was no applause this time—only a look of genuine wonder.

"Let’s put the song aside for a moment—what happened to your voice? Did it become like this after your accident, or...?"

"It’s nothing major—just a mishap not long ago, and now it’s like this."

"Well, have it checked at the hospital when you have time. The songs are good, but our academy’s studio isn’t suitable—it’s designed for classical music. Don’t worry, though, I have an old friend who works in pop. He has just the right place; we’ll go there. And I’ll handle the singer for you."

If, in the future, his daughter could be with Wang Lei, Ma Pingdong would be truly happy. At least his son-in-law would not be a good-for-nothing invalid.