Chapter 22: If It's Not Sold Out, I Won't Perform

The next day, in the office of Jiufeng Concert Hall.

Zhang Lei was an auditor, and his job was to review performance programs.

Jiufeng, being one of the top concert halls in Beihai, hosted only domestic and international superstars. If one succeeded in performing in Jiufeng’s main hall, which had two thousand seats, it meant becoming somewhat famous in both classical and pop music circles.

In the past two years, Jiufeng’s performance record had soared, and the artists and orchestras coming to perform were increasingly renowned.

Today, his task was to select the repertoire for the second solo hall.

The so-called solo hall was an intimate stage for a single musician with one instrument. It could be violin, piano, flute, synthesizer, guitar, harp—anything.

Looking over the materials, all the programs listed on the applications were familiar classics. The performers’ academic backgrounds were impressive, mostly graduates of prestigious music and dance academies, and their experience was substantial.

After reviewing the profiles of seven performing artists, Zhang Lei’s attention was captured by a new file.

Applicant: Le Xiaotian

Performance Program List:
1. “Beethoven—Virus,” C minor, Piano Sonata No. 8 “Pathetique,” Third Movement, abbreviated as “v3.” Introduction follows.
2. “The Brotherhood Escapes,” blending dark ambience, electronic music, and symphonic elements, a game soundtrack. The translated title is “The Escape,” with an introduction.
3. “Palladio,” a string quartet that fuses traditional symphony and electronic music elements, with an introduction.
…
All performances will be live.

Artist profile: Le Xiaotian. No formal education; self-taught. No stage experience, but has attracted many listeners on the radio.

By this point, Zhang Lei was deeply intrigued.

The repertoire listed was all unfamiliar, and the introductions sounded extraordinary. The artist’s profile was sincere, unlike other musicians who, with little talent, exaggerated their credentials.

Most notably, Le Xiaotian had sent a sample recording.

Excited, Zhang Lei rubbed his hands together, donned his professional headphones, and listened. He was instantly immersed.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he came to himself. He searched online, and—surprise—Le Xiaotian turned out to be the “Brother Xiaotian” who had recently become popular on Lotus TV.

But truly, he had no stage experience. In the end, Zhang Lei dialed the phone number listed in the materials.

Half an hour later, Le Xiaotian arrived at the office.

Upon entering, he shook hands with Zhang Lei, then took a seat on the guest sofa.

No sooner had he sat down than he got straight to the point: “If the performance schedule is postponed by a month, I absolutely won’t agree.”

Eyebrows raised, Zhang Lei replied in a low voice, “Jiufeng has hosted over three hundred performances a year for the past two years, and all the artists and orchestras are well-known. Given your situation, this is the best I can offer.”

He hadn’t sat on the sofa to chat cordially; the desk separated them—a sign that Zhang Lei hadn’t fully lowered his guard, or perhaps that he felt superior, since he worked at Jiufeng.

Realizing this, Le Xiaotian smiled and asked, “Did you listen to my sample tape? How did it feel?”

Although tempted to retort, Zhang Lei considered for three seconds and admitted honestly, “Not bad. Your performance level is good.”

“Have you listened to my other works? Are they up to standard?”

“I just listened. All quite good.”

Sitting up straight, Le Xiaotian spread his hands and countered, “The music is enjoyable, the performance is solid—doesn’t that settle it?”

After some thought, Zhang Lei still didn’t agree. “But Jiufeng can’t risk its reputation.”

Le Xiaotian sneered quietly, took a sip of tea brought in by the secretary, and said directly, “Let’s speak plainly. I was here just days ago recording pieces. You may manage to fill your calendar, but if you want the main hall and three solo halls packed every night, you still have a long way to go.”

Zhang Lei’s expression changed subtly, and Le Xiaotian continued, “As for your so-called famous artists, conductors, and orchestras, they’re only popular domestically. Internationally, I’ve never heard of them. Most importantly, I’m performing tonight, and I don’t need a fee. Do with that money as you please.”

Hearing this, Zhang Lei was visibly moved. Never mind everything else—no performance fee?

Sensing the advantage, he finally deliberated, “Are you sure you don’t want a fee?”

Given my current fame, a single performance would fetch only a few tens of thousands at most. It might be better to release it online for direct sales.

Besides, all I need is an audience—Brother Xiaotian wants stage experience. The goal is not to be nervous in front of a crowd.

With an indifferent smile, Le Xiaotian’s demeanor shifted instantly, “Then it’s settled?”

Rising from his chair and approaching, Zhang Lei warmly shook his hand. “Rest assured, I’ll start selling tickets right away. Tonight at nine, the second solo hall is yours.”

After a simple yet detailed discussion, the performance was arranged.

As Le Xiaotian left the office, the phone on the desk rang.

Picking up, Zhang Lei’s face changed upon hearing the voice, “Brother Hao!”

He nodded repeatedly, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Time flew, and night descended as scheduled. In the preparation area beside the stage of Jiufeng’s second solo hall.

Because the system had blocked him yesterday, Le Xiaotian’s relationship with Sun Yuzhen had become uncertain. So, tonight, only the six female mixing and sound engineers who had cheered him on days ago were here to support him.

“Brother Xiaotian, good luck!”

“Brother Xiaotian, you said you’ll be hosting the radio again soon. Do you have time to go dancing tonight?”

“Brother Xiaotian, come to my place later and watch a romance movie, relax a bit.”

I’d love to chat about love with you all tonight, but I still don’t have the power to counter Little Nine. I’ll have to endure for now.

Little Nine—the All-Star Nemesis System—since it belonged to the ninth art, [games], Le Xiaotian named it thus, and it had no objection.

So, he became very gentlemanly, “I’m pressed for time these days—let’s arrange something when I’m free.”

As the six beauties looked disappointed, the host outside announced Le Xiaotian’s name.

With the bearing of a world-class conductor and dance god, Le Xiaotian strode in confidently, chest out, eyes deep, steps assured.

When he turned to face the audience, he was stunned.

The three-tiered audience seating in the solo hall, with 398 seats, was more than half empty!

There were fewer than a hundred people present, and Le Xiaotian felt deeply hurt. Damn it, I’m supposed to be a dazzling dance god and conductor!

With a frown and raised brow, Le Xiaotian declared loudly, “It’s not full—I won’t perform!” With that, he left the stage.

Wow!

After a moment of bewilderment, the crowd erupted.

Because the flyers had promised an extraordinary musician and repertoire, they had bought tickets.

Now, he was refusing to perform—what was this supposed to mean?!

“What’s going on? Are you toying with us?!”

“Where are the Jiufeng staff? We demand an explanation tonight!”

“I want a refund! I’ll expose this!”

Realizing the performance had ended before it began, the audience was furious.