Chapter 12 – Can I try?
When Shi Cha dismounted with Lin Ran’s support, Lu Lecheng had already gotten off his horse and was standing nearby.
Seeing that Lin Ran’s gaze had been on Shi Cha the entire time, Lu Lecheng couldn’t help but say sourly, “Shi Cha, didn’t you say you weren’t participating?”
Shi Cha glanced quietly at Lin Ran beside him. “I was just experiencing it. I wasn’t the one who passed the challenge.”
What Lu Lecheng cared about wasn’t whether Shi Cha completed the task or not—it was the fact that Lin Ran had stayed with Shi Cha the whole time. One could imagine the kind of buzz Shi Cha would be getting online now.
Back in school, Lu Lecheng had always been overshadowed by Shi Cha. Now that Shi Cha had chosen not to enter the entertainment industry while he did, Lu thought he’d finally escaped the nightmare of always being second best. He never expected that his first variety show appearance would bring him face-to-face with Shi Cha again.
Truly, enemies were bound to cross paths.
He shot a glance at Shi Cha and said with a hint of sarcasm, “Brother Lin Ran really takes good care of you.”
Lin Ran smiled lightly. “Shi Cha’s older brother asked me to look after him. Naturally, I’ll do my best.”
Lu Lecheng didn’t quite believe that. He felt like there was something off about the way those two interacted. But since Lin Ran had spoken, he couldn’t say anything more.
Shi Cha, who had been somewhat dazed and fluttery from Lin Ran’s earlier guidance, suddenly fell silent when he heard those words.
His eyelashes trembled slightly.
So it really was only because of his older brother that Brother Lin Ran treated him like this.
Lin Ran, meanwhile, had just taken the task completion card from a staff member and didn’t notice Shi Cha’s reaction.
“Because the other group’s challenge included four parts, yours will now be changed to four as well. One part of the Six Arts of the Gentleman, ‘Music’, still remains. You’ll need to complete this challenge.”
After Shi Cha’s team earned three task cards, the program team announced a new requirement—they needed to complete one more to finish.
The challenge for “Music” was located in a music room.
This music room was unlike the others. It was a three-story building filled with all kinds of traditional instruments—pipa1, guzheng2, guqin3, erhu4, suona5, dizi6, and xiao7—everything one could imagine.
The sheer variety dazzled everyone.
The moment they entered the music room, Lu Lecheng’s heart sank. After touring the entire building, he realized he had been right.
All the instruments displayed here were traditional. He had learned guitar before—useless here.
Even the boy group dance and song he had practiced recently felt completely out of place.
This “Music” challenge was not going to be as simple or smooth as he had hoped.
That realization made Lu Lecheng immediately irritable.
Could it be that they would really return empty-handed?
The shop owner was a beautiful woman also dressed in hanfu. As she walked over gracefully, it was as if she had stepped out of a painting.
Her movements were light and elegant, and her steps made no sound.
She gave a gentle bow, her demeanor poised and refined. Lin Ran and Shi Cha quickly cupped their fists in return.
The two of them—one with a treasured sword in hand, the other holding a jade flute—exuded a charming and confident aura. One was elegant and carefree, the other spirited and full of youthful vigor.
Only Lu Lecheng, frowning and looking around, didn’t notice what was happening. By the time he realized and hastily returned the bow, everyone had already stood up.
His delayed reaction looked a little comical.
Still, no one made a fuss about it—only Lu Lecheng himself felt his face burning with embarrassment.
The shop owner stepped over to a massive konghou8 (a traditional Chinese harp) and began playing Spring River in the Flower Moon Night.
When the piece ended, she gave a slight nod to the group, then presented the challenge.
“I wonder if any of you would be willing to perform a piece with me? You may choose the song.”
[“Wow, she’s gorgeous! Forgive my ignorance—I can only drool!”]
[“I know who she is! That’s Guan Sha, the granddaughter of Tang Congyun, the national treasure-level konghou master! She won the gold medal in a national classical music competition. Not only is she beautiful—her music is amazing!”]
[“No wonder! So she’s Tang Congyun’s granddaughter. Didn’t Lu Lecheng say he wanted to participate in the ‘Music’ challenge of the Six Arts? Can he handle it now?”]
[“From what I know, Lu Lecheng can sing, dance, and play some instruments, but in past talent shows, he used Western instruments like the piano and guitar. Asking him to suddenly perform with a konghou… that might be a stretch.”]
Even Lu Lecheng’s fans didn’t dare flood the screen with supportive comments. After all, even they weren’t confident.
Lu Lecheng’s face turned a bit grim when he heard the challenge. But since he had already made bold claims earlier, and hadn’t stood out in any of the challenges so far today, he couldn’t afford to back out now.
If he gave up again, how would he explain it to his fans?
He quickly weighed the consequences, then turned to Guan Sha and asked, “Would it be possible to use a guitar?”
Guan Sha didn’t seem surprised. After all, this challenge—arranged through the program—was mainly meant to promote the traditional konghou to a broader audience.
“Of course. I happen to have a personal guitar. I’ll have someone bring it over.”
Guan Sha graciously helped resolve Lu Lecheng’s instrument issue right away.
While waiting for the guitar, the two of them discussed what song to perform. In the end, they chose a popular song that Lu Lecheng was very familiar with.
When Lu Lecheng’s fans saw their idol and the beautiful musician finalizing the performance, they quickly flooded the comments to support him—drowning out the earlier ones that had doubted his ability.
A few minutes later, the performance began, with Lu Lecheng playing first, followed by Guan Sha joining in.
At first, the duet was harmonious, but as they continued, it became obvious that Lu Lecheng was struggling to keep up with Guan Sha’s rhythm.
Guan Sha, trained directly by a national-level konghou master, was clearly in a different league from Lu Lecheng, who had only learned guitar as a hobby for a couple of years.
Even though Guan Sha was deliberately adjusting her pace to accommodate him, Lu Lecheng still felt immense pressure—sweat began to bead on his forehead.
The more he tried to impress on camera, the more anxious he became—and the more prone he was to making mistakes. At the climax of the piece, he plucked a little too forcefully, and with a sharp, jarring twang, the pick snapped a guitar string.
[“Wow, that guitar isn’t cheap! The lowest price I’ve seen online is half a million yuan!”]
[“Oh my god, that expensive?! Now I’m curious—how much is that konghou in the lady’s hands?”]
[“That konghou is a custom-made piece by a master. It’s one of a kind—asking for its price is just tacky.”]
The livestream chat lit up with amused commentary.
At the venue, sweat slid down Lu Lecheng’s face. Even though he didn’t own such an expensive guitar, he knew enough to recognize its value.
“Miss Guan, I’m so sorry—I’ll pay for the damages.”
But Guan Sha simply smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Then she turned toward Lin Ran and Shi Cha, who had been quietly enjoying the performance from the side. “Since the duet was interrupted…”
“Shi Cha, why don’t you give it a try?” Lin Ran looked toward him. “I heard from your brother that you studied the Dizi for a while.”
Shi Cha didn’t dwell on how much Lin Ran seemed to know.
He nodded slightly. The Dizi in his hand wasn’t just a prop—it was a real instrument.
Looking at Guan Sha with a serious expression, he said, “I can give it a try. Let’s do Fishermen’s Song at Dusk. I remember Master Tang Congyun once performed this piece with Master Song Jingyi using konghou and Dizi.”
Originally, Guan Sha had intended to say that even though the duet was interrupted, they could consider the challenge passed. She hadn’t expected them to request another performance.
Even more surprising was the fact that this exceptionally handsome young man had picked the very piece her grandmother had once performed with Master Song Jingyi.
That piqued her interest.
What started as a simple intent to showcase the konghou and promote traditional music now became a genuine desire to perform a meaningful duet.
But the livestream audience didn’t all feel the same—especially Lu Lecheng’s fans.
Their idol had just failed, and now someone else was stepping up? If he succeeded, wouldn’t that be a slap in the face?
[“Does Shi Cha even know what he’s doing? Forget Guan Sha’s level—how dare he compare himself to Master Song Jingyi?”]
[“LOL, who gave Shi Cha that kind of confidence? I’m going straight to Master Song Jingyi’s Weibo to report someone trying to ride his coattails.”]
[“…”]
Shi Cha had no idea about the mocking comments scrolling across the livestream. At the moment, he was already standing beside Guan Sha, both of them ready to begin.
Before long, the clear and gentle tones of the konghou—like flowing jade—filled the room. At the same time, the bright and melodic sound of the Dizi followed suit.
The two instruments complemented each other—at times crisp and pleasant, at times graceful and tender, and sometimes low and mournful.
As the piece came to an end, the Dizi’s sound gradually softened. The listeners seemed to see the setting sun, fishing boats docking for the night, and distant songs fading into silence.
With the final note played, everyone took a moment to linger in the atmosphere. Then, led by Lin Ran, they broke into applause.
In the livestream, the barrage of comments had gradually faded away as the music began. It wasn’t until the applause started that viewers began to peek back in.
[“Sorry, I don’t know music, so I’ll just say two words: “So. Damn. Good.””]
[“Can any professionals explain how good Shi Cha’s Dizi playing really was? All I know is—it sounded amazing.”]
[“Breaking news! Someone just went to Master Song Jingyi’s Weibo and told him that some guy named Shi Cha was shamelessly trying to ride his coattails. And Master Song actually replied!”]
[“Master Song said that although Shi Cha only studied for a year, he is indeed his student. He was the one who gave Shi Cha the courage!”]
[“???”]
[“!!!”]
[“……”]
As soon as those words were posted, the mocking comments aimed at Shi Cha vanished without a trace.
Back in the music room, Shi Cha and Guan Sha bowed to thank the audience. At the same time, Shi Cha received the final pass card from her.
With all the tasks completed, Lin Ran looked at Shi Cha with clear admiration in his eyes. Shi Cha, on the other hand, lowered his head slightly, still unused to so many eyes fixed on him.
Only Lu Lecheng looked as though he were grinding his teeth to dust.
When they arrived at the designated meeting point set by the production team, they discovered that the other group—Zhong Jiarong and his team—had already arrived.
After chatting, they found out that Zhong Jiarong’s group had been assigned the “qin, qi, shu, hua” challenges (zither, chess, calligraphy, painting).
Zhong Jiarong had some skill in chess and managed to compete decently, but when it came to playing the zither, calligraphy, or painting, there was no comparing them to professionals.
In the end, Wu Heze simply drew a few stick-figure ducks and handed them to the art studio owner—who was absolutely stunned.
That said, their group had always taken the comedic route, so while they only earned one pass card, the entertainment value was high.
Director Qi then appeared at just the right moment to announce the purpose of the pass cards.
“The clearance cards in your hands are your ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Each card lets you choose one ingredient.”
Someone immediately noticed something strange in the wording.
“One ingredient? Are you sure it’s not one dish?”
Director Qi smiled with obvious mischief.
“It’s an ingredient. Soon you’ll each go collect your ingredients, assign tasks, and start preparing dinner.”
Lin Ran looked at a tag labeled [rice].
“Director, even rice needs to be chosen?”
Director Qi grinned even more gleefully.
“Ran-Shen, you’ve spotted the catch. If you don’t choose rice, there won’t be any rice to eat. If you don’t choose noodles, naturally, there won’t be any noodles.”
Zhong Jiarong, holding the only clearance card, began discussing with Wu Heze.
“Rice definitely won’t do—we can’t just eat plain rice. How about choosing noodles? We could mix them with soy sauce and still fill up.”
Wu Heze looked troubled.
“But I don’t eat noodles. How about we choose rice instead? Rice mixed with soy sauce should be similar.”
Zhou Caizhe listened to their increasingly absurd conversation and felt like the sky was about to fall.
What kind of nightmare cooking was this?
On Shi Cha’s side, Lin Ran also started whispering with him.
“Xiao Shi, what do you want to eat?”
Shi Cha scanned all the ingredients, then turned to ask Director Qi: “If we choose beef, do we get any side ingredients with it?”
Lin Ran understood what he meant and chimed in, “Director Qi, you can’t seriously expect us to make only one dish with four cards, right?”
Fortunately, Director Qi wasn’t completely heartless. After thinking it over, she relaxed the rules.
“You can choose two side ingredients.”
Four cards, four main dishes.
After making their selections, the six of them headed to the rental house.
Zhong Jiarong, carrying a small bag of rice, went over to Lin Ran to chat.
“Lin Ran, I noticed you guys didn’t bring any rice, and this bag I’ve got is more than enough for all six of us. How about we cook together? What do you think?”
Wu Heze quickly followed up, “Exactly. Everyone’s got some ingredients—only by combining them can we actually have a full meal.”
Since everyone was staying under the same roof that night, Lin Ran couldn’t very well have the three of them eating a feast while the others sat across from them chewing plain rice and watching.
So the group agreed to work together on dinner once they got back.
That was the plan, anyway—until it was actually time to start cooking. Then they realized that all of them claimed they couldn’t cook.
Zhong Jiarong, the oldest among them, turned out to be the least reliable.
He raised his hand high.
“I can! I can cook rice. I always make the rice at home. Leave the rice to me—I’ve got it covered.”
Wu Heze, true to his reputation as Zhong Jiarong’s longtime partner, quickly chimed in, “I can be the assistant. But don’t ask me to stir-fry—I’ll burn everything to a crisp unless you want to eat something pitch-black.”
Everyone shook their heads, leaving only Shi Cha without a response.
Shi Cha, who had been trying hard to stay unnoticed, felt all eyes suddenly on him. He looked up quietly and saw that everyone was watching.
He pursed his lips.
“How about… I give it a try?”
Zhong Jiarong exaggeratedly tried to go in for a hug, but Lin Ran casually stepped in and blocked him without making a fuss.
Zhong Jiarong didn’t mind and praised him sincerely: “Xiao Shi Cha, is there anything you can’t do?”
He was in his fifties, so calling the barely-twenty-year-old Shi Cha “Xiao Shi Cha” didn’t feel inappropriate.
Lin Ran smiled at Shi Cha too.
“Shi Cha always surprises us.”
“I’ll go get started,” Shi Cha said shyly, getting up quickly and slipping into the kitchen.
Note :
Pipa ↩︎
Guzheng is a large, curved zither with about 21 strings. It is played by plucking the strings with finger picks. Its sound is bright, loud, and resonant, often used in lively or dramatic music. The movable bridges under each string allow for tuning and bending notes. ↩︎
Guqin is a smaller, flat zither with 7 strings, played with bare fingers. It produces a soft, quiet, and meditative sound. Without bridges, it relies on sliding and harmonics for expressive effects. The guqin is traditionally associated with scholars and introspective music. ↩︎
Erhu ↩︎
Suona ↩︎
Dizi is a transverse (side-blown) flute, characterized by its bright, lively tone. A distinctive feature is the dimo, a thin membrane that adds a resonant, buzzing quality to its sound. ↩︎
Xiao is a vertical, end-blown flute known for its soft, mellow, and meditative tone. It is typically made of bamboo and held vertically when played. ↩︎
Konghou ↩︎