Chapter Twenty-Three: Winning the Prize

As the song ended, Chen Ling felt quite satisfied with his performance; it was much better than yesterday’s rehearsal. The audience and guests below the stage were also very supportive, applauding enthusiastically. It seemed he hadn’t let the mainland music scene down, and the live webcast chat was flooding with comments.

“Thank you, thank you,” Chen Ling said, bowing to the audience as their applause gradually faded. Courtesy under the spotlight could not be neglected.

“Chen Ling, please stay,” called out the hosts, Harlem and Little S, catching him just as he was about to step off the stage.

Wait, wasn’t the rehearsal yesterday supposed to end after the song? Chen Ling was a bit confused. Still, he obediently stayed put; the hosts weren’t following the rehearsal script, but he couldn’t just pretend not to hear and walk off—that would be a stage disaster.

So, Chen Ling found himself flanked by Harlem and Little S in the center of the stage.

“How does it feel to be at the Golden Melody Awards for the first time?” Harlem asked, starting with a routine question.

“I’m very excited and happy. It’s such a professional award and stage, and I’m delighted to be a part of it.” A textbook answer, flawless and official.

“I heard the song you just performed is also the ending theme for a movie you directed and starred in, and which is due to be released soon—is that right?” Little S followed up.

“That’s right. It’s my first movie, self-directed and acted. If any of the viewers at home are interested, please do go to the cinema and support it.”

Since the hosts had given him the chance, Chen Ling wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to promote his film.

“You’re really impressive. The first album you release gets a Golden Melody nomination, so your first movie is bound to be just as good. Can you tell us about it?”

Seeing that Harlem and Little S were intentionally steering the topic toward his film, Chen Ling didn’t hold back, “It’s an adaptation of a novel with the same name...” He seized the opportunity to advertise, even though he had no idea why the Golden Melody Awards were giving him this chance. It would be foolish to waste it.

After all, the live audience for this year’s Golden Melody Awards was substantial.

Chen Ling kept his introduction brief, but thanks to his eloquence, both the guests and the audience became interested in the film. Just as the hosts said—if his first crossover album could be so outstanding, the first movie in his main profession should be just as excellent.

He chatted with Harlem and Little S for a few more minutes before they politely thanked him and let him leave the stage. As he walked off, Chen Ling did a little mental calculation—did the interaction with the hosts actually last longer than his song performance? Was this their way of consoling him for not winning an award, by letting him promote his movie?

Returning to his seat, Chen Ling couldn’t hold back and whispered his guess to Fan Zheng.

Fan Zheng was equally puzzled, but just comforted him, “We’re here now, and we’ll know soon enough whether or not you win. Besides, you’ve already promoted the movie, so the trip was worth it no matter what.”

The awards ceremony continued. After a few smaller prizes, a more significant award was about to be announced—the Best Lyricist Award, for which Chen Ling was nominated with the song “Keywords.”

Among the nominees, Lin Xi was the most famous and the favorite to win. The hosts wasted no time; the big screen displayed the list of nominees, and the camera zoomed in on their faces.

At this moment, the nominees’ expressions and acting skills were truly being tested. Their faces were projected onto the big screen, every subtle expression seen by the live audience and countless viewers who delighted in watching the reactions of those who didn’t win.

Chen Ling’s standing in the music scene and his singing technique weren’t top-tier in this crowd, but his acting skills were more than enough to outshine most of them, so his expression management was impeccable.

“The winner is a male singer who has come from afar,” the host announced.

Many eyes turned to Chen Ling—among the nominees, he was the only one who fit that description.

“This is his first time on the Golden Melody Awards stage.”

A wave of murmurs swept through the audience, and even more attention focused on Chen Ling.

Beside him, Fan Zheng gripped his thigh in excitement—there was hope, real hope. Even Chen Ling’s composure was beginning to slip.

“He is Chen Ling, and the winning song is ‘Keywords.’”

The uproar drowned Chen Ling like a tidal wave, his ears buzzing as if he were about to leave this world.

“Brilliant!” Only when Fan Zheng, overjoyed, pulled him up for a hug did Chen Ling snap back to reality.

Hearing the host announce his name, the live chat exploded with cheers—he really had won.

“Let go, man, I need to go up and accept the award!” Chen Ling tried to escape Fan Zheng’s embrace.

Fan Zheng was so excited he couldn’t let go, nearly squeezing the breath out of Chen Ling until he finally spoke up.

He had to hurry to the stage; he couldn’t keep the hosts and presenters waiting.

Breaking free from Fan Zheng’s enthusiastic hug, Chen Ling straightened his clothes and strode to the podium under the envious gazes of the crowd.

On stage, Chen Ling accepted the Best Lyricist trophy from the presenter. By the time he gave his acceptance speech, he had regained his composure.

His remarks were brief—he thanked Fan Zheng, then the Golden Melody Awards, and finally managed to slip in another plug for his movie.

In truth, Chen Ling also wanted to thank Jing Tian—without her persistent urging, he might never have released an album, made it to the Golden Melody Awards, or won a prize. But remembering what Lu Zheng had said, he decided not to add to her troubles.

When his speech ended, the hosts didn’t ask him to stay as they had earlier. He had barely returned to his seat and had no time to savor the trophy before Fan Zheng snatched it up, admiring it eagerly.

“It’ll be your turn soon enough, so you can admire your own,” Chen Ling teased, seeing Fan Zheng practically drooling over the trophy.

Fan Zheng was still waiting for the announcement of Best Album Producer, for which he was nominated—there was a chance he could win.

“No hope. Our album came out too late; we can’t beat A-Mei,” Fan Zheng replied, reluctantly handing back the trophy. He knew the odds weren’t in his favor, but at least they wouldn’t go home empty-handed.

Their album’s timing was its biggest drawback, not its quality.

Chen Ling understood, but still offered, “You never know, right?”

“Yeah, you never know,” Fan Zheng agreed. “Until the results are out, anything is possible.”

But as the ceremony progressed and the remaining major awards were announced, it became clear:

“The 21st Golden Melody Awards Best Composer is...”

“Chen Xiaoxia, ‘Singing in the Tree’.”

So, no luck. The two exchanged a glance full of regret and resignation.

Chen Ling’s nominated song was “Keywords,” a creative arrangement with a distinctive Chinese style, but it still lost out.

The ceremony moved on to the Best New Artist, a highly prestigious award. If you didn’t win it when nominated, you’d never get another chance—just like Jay Chou, who, despite his later achievements, never won Best New Artist; a singer only gets one shot at it.

“The 21st Golden Melody Awards Best New Artist is...” As the host spoke, Chen Ling nervously clenched his fists.

“Hsueh Chia-ying, ‘Riding a White Horse’.”

Again, no luck, but on camera, Chen Ling still applauded and sent his congratulations.

Once more, he lost out—not because of quality, but because of timing.

Fan Zheng next to him was clearly disappointed, but one award remained, with Fan Zheng himself as a nominee—he was visibly more nervous.

“The 21st Golden Melody Awards Best Album Producer is...”

For the first time, Fan Zheng’s face appeared on the big screen, his nerves obvious for all to see.

“A-Dee Zai, winning album ‘Amit’.”

As the host finished, the winner stood up in joy while Fan Zheng slumped in his seat, deflated.

No win—not through any fault of their own, but because the album’s release was too recent, its impact too limited, and Chen Ling’s stage experience still lacking. Winning even one award was already a surprise.

Had they won Best New Artist or Best Album Producer, it might have cast doubt on the credibility of the Golden Melody Awards, since a winner with only one live performance to their name would undermine the award’s prestige. Best Lyricist, on the other hand, had little to do with stage experience, so the award was well-deserved.

“We’ll be back in the future, and next time, we’ll both go up and accept awards together,” Chen Ling said seriously to Fan Zheng, who was still gazing enviously at the trophy. If their album had been released earlier and he’d had more performance opportunities, today’s ceremony could have turned out very differently.

“Really?” Fan Zheng’s eyes lit up again at Chen Ling’s words.

“Of course,” Chen Ling replied with certainty.

From then on, the remaining awards had little to do with Chen Ling; he and Fan Zheng had already received all their nominations.

The big winner of this year’s Golden Melody Awards was, without a doubt, A-Mei, who, with her album “Amit,” was nominated for ten awards and won six, taking home Best Female Singer and becoming the first Grand Slam artist in Golden Melody history—winning Album of the Year, Song of the Year, and Best Producer in one go.

David Tao, with his album “Chapter 96,” won Best Mandarin Male Singer.

As soon as the ceremony ended, news reports shot up the trending charts.

Chen Ling’s Best Lyricist win dominated mainland headlines.

“The first mainland singer to win Best Lyricist at the Golden Melody Awards: Chen Ling”

“A-Mei becomes the Golden Melody Awards’ first Grand Slam winner”

“David Tao wins Best Mandarin Male Singer”

After the ceremony, Chen Ling and Fan Zheng gave interviews to several media outlets, discussing the Golden Melody Awards and seizing the chance to promote the film once again.

With the ceremony over, the two didn’t linger long in Taiwan. The next morning, they boarded a flight back to Beijing—the movie’s release was fast approaching.