Chapter 38: Second Movement: "Cocoon Breach"
Editor: Tennesh
Nov. 1.
This was a day marked by many in the Yanzhou music industry and also a date some in the entertainment industry paid attention to.
Could Silver Wing maintain the quality of its first movement?
Song Shihua, the big boss of Tongshan True Entertainment, had long been ensconced in his office, which was equipped with top-of-the-line audiovisual equipment. Once he heard the second chapter, he could confirm his suspicions.
Did Silver Wing splurge even more on the second chapter? If that was the case, then it was obvious that Silver Wing was using the epic series to promote Polar Light and vie for the "Battle of the Century" endorsement deal.
Eight a.m.
It was time for the morning commute, and also breakfast time for many schools before early classes went into session.
In the New Era, compulsory education was divided into introductory, intermediate, and advanced levels. Every period lasted six years. The introductory level was equivalent to primary schools before the apocalypse. Intermediate schools were a combination of junior and senior high schools. Advanced education referred to post-secondary studies, the rough equivalent of university, but students were also taught more difficult material.
Many intermediate students in Qi'an were riding their bikes or taking public trains to their schools, where they headed for their school cafeterias.
Schools in the New Era were well-funded. The food was decent and quite cheap. Rushing to school for breakfast before dashing to the classroom was a common routine.
At that time of day, both day students and boarders were trickling toward their cafeterias.
Qi'an No. 1 Secondary School, inside the northern cafeteria.
The big TV screens on the cafeteria walls typically played loud, fast-tempo songs to wake up the students. Secondary school cafeterias were noisy to begin with. Slow and mellow songs wouldn't be able to rise above the din. They'd be long buried under the noise, save a few faint notes.
November was mid-term time for most intermediate schools in Yanzhou. Schools weighed exams during this period quite heavily.
The small clusters of students having breakfast were bitching about grades, homework, life, and their budding romances.
Students drank soup and chatted with classmates at the same time while eyeing the big screens to see if any footage caught their fancy.
"It's the same stuff every day. I can guess what they play next with my eyes closed."
People who grew up during the era of fast internet connections were exposed to so much information when they were kids. The older they grew, the less novelty they detected. The footage and songs that played on the big screens might have stirred something at the outset, but they wore on them quickly. They were already sick of the current playlist.
Students who were planning on ignoring the big screens suddenly heard a fellow student exclaim.
"Look, it's Polar Light!"
"Where?" Students scanned their surroundings.
"On the big screen."
"That's right, I almost forgot, today is Nov. 1. Polar Light's second song is coming out."
Journalists had revealed in their reporting that, among the student fans of "Divine Punishment," most were secondary school students, not higher education students.
Even though students at the intermediate level were at a restless age, they weren't as restless as advanced students on the cusp of entering society. It was also a sensitive age, which was why it was easier to sway the emotions of teenagers.
Nov. 1, 8 a.m. The second movement of "100-Year Period of Destruction" was released online.
The overall color tone of the first scenes was darkish, but the resolution was crystal clear. The TV screens in the cafeteria were large enough. The quality of the projection equipment and related hardware was key to attracting students, so naturally, the gear wasn't that shabby.
Emerging at the same time as the initial scenes was a deeply unsettling foundation melody.
A prolonged bass score and a repeated beat combined with an electronic score that sounded out of place and wasn't pleasing to the ear. A gradual sense of suffocation.
A traditionalist would argue that the electronic melody detracted from the song's musicality, blurring the lines between the music and sound effects, but it also made the score more stimulating, provoking a sense of curiosity and unease in the listener. It was as if human souls were in conversation with the landscapes of the apocalypse.
The 100-year Period of Destruction—the real yet surreal time the video drew inspiration from.
Fang Zhao incorporated more electronic elements in the second movement.
If the first movement was a seamless blend of electronic and symphonic music, then in the second chapter, the electronic music was an integral part of the melody.
Considering the level of human development by the Information Age, standards of living and spiritual fulfillment had taken huge leaps. Technology was highly sophisticated. Automation and artificial intelligence were commonplace. And with these advancements came the sound of robotic machinery and electronic gadgets. People had long been accustomed to these sounds that inundated daily life in the New Era.
And composers in the New Era incorporated these sounds into music. Aesthetic standards were evolving, personal tastes were evolving, and so was pop culture.
Electronic music produced new tones and sound effects. In contrast to traditional instruments, electronic elements were more representative of this era and more easily embraced by audiences.
That was why composers in the New Era either strictly used electronic sounds or mixed traditional instruments and electronic music. When in Rome, do what the Romans do. Fang Zhao injected these new elements into his work, adding a metallic and electronic flavor to his music. After all, musical styles from a long time ago might not be readily appreciated.
The first chapter, "Divine Punishment," struck many fans as alternative classical. It was just novel enough to attract audiences. But if it were overdone, the piece would have turned people off.
Inside the northern cafeteria at Qi'an No. 1 Secondary School, the din scaled back. More and more students were paying attention to the big screens.
Cafeterias were always noisy, which was why the stereo system was typically turned up. As the chitchat faded, the music gradually stood out.
The footage showed overcast skies and a trickling of rain. The barren landscape was accompanied by a mellow cello solo. Next came a melancholic and winding horn that projected a deep sense of resignation, mixed in with tragedy and bleakness.
The tree men who had chosen to leave their homeland in search of a new beginning saw their expectations crushed again and again. Danger was everywhere. They didn't know where they would be safe and wondered if there was still a peaceful land left for them.
Their companions who had left home with them had either died of illness or were ripped apart by mutated beasts. The remaining tree men were heavily wounded. Disappointment, exhaustion, and a downtrodden quality permeated their faces and hearts.
For them, life had hit a low point. Their faith in finding a new home had crumbled under the cruel reality. A prolonged sense of fear and resignation was about to swallow their consciousnesses.
A classical melody conveying disappointment and muted notes projected desperation and terror. Deep background vocals gradually emerged against the backdrop of a dark symphonic arrangement.
It was as if a voice had whispered, "Do you see?"
The low hum of the background choir encompassed the latent tension of hidden dangers, reflected the cold, cruel conditions of the end of days, and recreated the survivors' tepid moans of agony.
The silhouette at the forefront of the group carried many wounds. Its branches had obvious scratches, and some were truncated. Flapping on the branches was a sparse smattering of green leaves. It was the picture of struggle.
Ahead lay a slope populated with a flurry of bloody and evil beasts.
Behind the leader lay a tribe emaciated by the cruel circumstances.
The vivid imagery was backed by a low-register, meandering string melody that resembled a sigh, as if suggesting an imminent end.
'Look, this is what's left of the world. There's no hope. Let's give up. We'll stop marching forward, find a place to hide, and pray that our luck will carry us on, a day at a time.'
The surreal imagery, coupled with the symphonic and electronic score, made for an overarching feeling of helplessness. Dragging their weak limbs, it was as if the tree men were looking up from a dark pit, resigned to the cold, cruel fate God had doomed them to.
Just sheer determination wasn't enough to fuel their battle against fate.
There was no room for hesitation in times like this.
A cocktail of spooky sound effects and a percussion score of varying beats repeated themselves. A fleeting, trembling piano solo interjected, along with a male bass vocal performance that spoke of utter sadness. Propelled by the thick sound texture, the leader of the pack ambled forward.
He looked back after taking two steps. No one had followed. When he looked ahead again, a shadow making menacing gestures pounced.
__________
Inside the northern cafeteria at Qi'an No. 1 Secondary School, there was hardly a whisper. Students who were about to down their spoonfuls of soup stopped halfway, eyes glued to the big screens.
The servers in the cafeteria also slowed down.
The atmosphere inside the cafeteria turned tense, as if a single string was being plucked repeatedly.
__________
In the video, the lonely silhouette that walked toward the slope was flanked by converging branches that then twisted and tightened into solid arms while its roots assembled into sturdy and powerful legs.
A string melody played that suggested resistance and evasion. Such feelings prevailed like the weather, which was intangible but enveloped the atmosphere.
Two contrasting registers in the melody resembled conflicting forces and emotions. It was as if a heavy cocoon encased the tree man. Every step took tremendous effort.
"Everything is gone.
Where is the light?
..."
Should they obey fate?
What was fate anyway?
Past companions were lost and their homeland abandoned.
The remaining life forms during the end of days mourned and agonized, but they could also fight back and resist.
Lighting flashed through the dark clouds. The wind picked up and the rain grew heavier.
The woodwind score resembled howling winds picking up pace, and the heavier drumbeat mirrored the sound of thunder, suggesting an even stronger storm.
The drums, woodwinds, cello, and electronic elements made for a textured melody. A sliding male vocal played, signaling bold and sacrificial intentions, as if a deeper force was about to be unleashed.
The brown pupils of the lone shadow shrank as it examined the approaching red-brown beast that resembled coagulated blood. The tree man knelt, picked up a rock, and clenched his fist.
A broken, plucked string melody played.
With one giant step, the tree man leaned forward and raised high his arm of bunched branches. The hand that held the rock painted an impressive trajectory that looked like a wildly swung hammer and hurled itself toward the attacker.
Bang!
A series of heavy drumbeats burst out. A blur appeared. It looked like the shadow attacking with menacing gestures was struck down, but it also looked like something else was smashed.
The tree man panted and watched the neutralized threat.
The pounding of a keyboard seemed to suggest a mental confirmation of sorts. The triumphant melody that emerged lightened the heavy mood.
The tree man finally realized that many problems weren't as scary as he imagined them to be once he had confronted them with bravery. The world would not easily shake.
That was all these threats amounted to.
The sun will set today and rise as usual tomorrow. Even though the skies were smothered with thick smoke, he knew that the sun still existed.
The tree man lifted his foot and stomped on the collapsed beast heavily, thoroughly dashing its chances of a comeback once and for all. He wanted to punish all those sharp claws and gnarly teeth that struck fear in them.
After taking a glance at his fellow tribesmen, he proceeded again, tossing away the rock in his hand, replacing it with a larger stone baton, and lunging toward a second beast. Large strides turned into a quick gait. His sluggish frame became nimble, as if it had shed the heavy cocoon that once encumbered him.
"In a tumultuous world,
You still remain.
..."
The deep male vocal was emboldened by the rhythm of battle. Set against a grand, sweeping symphonic score, this crudest, most natural form of expression touched the heart.
Fight.
There was no other alternative.
In times like this, someone had to rise to the occasion.
Not cower, not muddle through.
Fight to the death against this absurd and cruel fate.
The remaining life forms in the end of days stood in the abyss, roamed the darkness, and chased the light, always climbing upward.
This quality called belief could be as still as stagnant water and frighteningly kinetic at the same time. It was both mind-blowing and gory.
Against the epic symphonic arrangement blended with electronic music, a fierce, dogged evilness abruptly arose alongside the extreme tension and overwhelming atmosphere.
Music and film were temptations that no one could resist, regardless of the era.
Electronic elements seamlessly folded into the grand symphonic structure and the footage matched the melody. Every viewer and listener felt as if an ice cube had been slipped under their clothing, prompting an impromptu shiver. Yet their hearts were on fire, sizzling like a mean barbecue. It felt as if they had been disintegrated and reassembled.
The silhouette in the video that resembled a person, a convergence of twisted branches, looked like it was bulging with beefy lumps of muscle. Every step he took was accompanied by a heavy drumbeat, making for a pronounced battle cry.
The tree man lost his heavy, cumbersome shadow and turned into a nimble and speedy leopard. He planted one foot emphatically, leaped from the ground, and greeted the approaching silhouette with a swinging whack, delivering a blow even more powerful than his previous.
The passage of time seemed to slow. Blood-tainted fragments from the stone baton sprayed in the rain, creating an explosion of muddy splashes that enveloped the sharp tooth that was dislodged.
The music approximated an explosive force in the winter light. The cheesy melody was replaced by a mixing of electronic music and brass performance that tugged at the heartstrings like a sword removed from its sheath—cold and heavy.
It was the coldness that remained after layers of warmth had been stripped away.
A seemingly out-of-sync choir backed up the spirited male vocals, the unconventional combination bringing greater stimulation to the senses and audio shock. A rich tapestry of instruments was weaved in, the exquisite layering bringing the score to its climax. Every single note was bursting with an unyielding passion for survival.
An escalating piano solo twirled like a tornado and telegraphed howls into the stratosphere, sending the human body shuddering, as if an electric current had zapped through the spine and blown open every pore.
The shadow wielding the stone baton didn't look back because it didn't need to. He had heard the trailing footsteps press forward, stomping all over the bodies of the fallen beasts.
Following his lead, a second pair and then a third pair of feet walked over the two beasts.
__________
The end of days, the 100-year Period of Destruction, was an era that produced an abundance of heroes.
Many people thought that Fang Zhao had randomly picked a species that appeared during the Period of Destruction and built a virtual idol around it with a crafty, epic score.
But Fang Zhao's choice of the Longxiang Tianluo tree man Polar Light actually was a metaphor for people like him who were born during peaceful times but spent most of their lives fighting for survival.
The cruelty of the end of the days lay not in the butchering of lives but in the toll and torture it exacted on people's spirits, the double-whammy of physical and mental pain, in addition to the utter mockery and callous treatment human life received.
Consider the characters from the Period of Destruction widely glorified into heroes in the New Era. If you took away the deification and over-the-top emotions, these were ordinary people on a plain quest to live.
Was it for fame and glory?
Hell no. Back then, they were simply staving off death.
It was the brutal battle for survival that turned them into hardened heroes.
It was heroism necessitated by the times.
That was why Fang Zhao created Polar Light.
In the video, the camera panned wide. The heavy rain continued to pelt. Behind the leader, several silhouettes emerged from the stagnant cluster of trees that trailed him, their branches transforming into fierce fighting poses. They trudged through the mud and followed, treading on the corpses of the slain beasts.
A woodwind score played at a frenzied tempo as the strings section repeated the same note frantically. A gushing melody accompanied the wide shot. The stormy weather harbored a renewed, earth-shattering spirit that was about to erupt.
The footage and music came to a sudden halt, and the end credits appeared:
Lead character: Polar Light
Species: Longxiang Tianluo
Song title: "100-year Period of Destruction," Second Movement: "Cocoon Breach," producer Fang Zhao
Production team: Polar Light project team, Fang Zhao, Zu Wen, Song Miao, Pang Pusong, Zeng Huang, Wan Yue, Fu Yingtian, Stiller, Zhang Yu.
A Silver Wing Media release.
__________
The silent cafeteria resumed its buzz only when the big screens started playing other songs.
"I feel like I can blow up the cafeteria right now."
"I don't know why, but for some reason, I suddenly feel a weird sense of purpose."
"Server, two more bows of rice please. I'm going to battle after I have a square meal." There were three more exams left that day.
"Coming right up!" The servers doling out rice in the cafeteria worked their serving spoons with what seemed like energized strokes. Students who were just arriving at the cafeteria did a double take on the students who were leaving in a hurry.
"What's up with them?" a new arrival asked his companion. There was a killer vibe going around.
"Maybe they just took part in a mass pledge for their midterms."
"A mass pledge in the cafeteria?"
"It's probably just second-year students They're always neurotic like that. Just ignore them."
"That's not right. I just saw a fifth-year."
The strange atmosphere puzzled the late arrivals. What had happened in the cafeteria before they arrived?
Chapter 39: Haven't Heard of a Single One
Editor: Tennesh
After the second movement, "Cocoon Breach," was released, it racked up nearly 100,000 downloads within a minute. This was mostly industry insiders or people from related fields. They had been on standby. Online news outlets were geared up for the release so they could do their write-ups and immediately post. Everyone wanted to get the first word out.
But the pundits were at a loss after listening to the second movement. There was so much they wanted to say, but they didn't know where to start.
Chu Guang and company were also camped out in a projection room. They downloaded the music video at 8 a.m. sharp and turned on their projector.
The same scene as last time replayed itself. No one said a word when the video played, and no one spoke for the longest time after it ended.
Sitting in his chair, Chu Guang took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew he would soon lose the No. 4 spot.
He felt some sadness and a sense of failure, but then he quickly remembered the virtual idols launched by Neon Culture and Tongshan True Entertainment. That made him feel vindicated.
Those two virtual idols wouldn't be able to hang on to their No. 2 and No. 3 spots for long.
Knowing they would suffer too, much of Chu Guang's depression dissipated. He admitted he was outperformed, but he was also delighted to see the two virtual idol teams from their rival companies, who always had the upper hand, finally take a beating.
Things were playing out just as Chu Guang imagined. The project teams behind Xun Huai and Fei Lisi were agonizing over their next moves. Did they need to revise their strategy?
Song Shihua, the big boss of Tongshan True Entertainment, smashed his cup in his office.
"This is indeed what Silver Wing is up to."
Even though, considering Tongshan True Entertainment's prowess when it came to virtual idols, they shouldn't be afraid of Silver Wing, Song Shihua was starting to get worried.
Judging from the two movements that had been released, "100-Year Period of Destruction" couldn't be underestimated. Either song was epic enough to carry a blockbuster. What was more, it was a series set against the Period of Destruction.
"Battle of the Century," the game being launched next year, was also set during the Period of Destruction.
Would Fiery Bird pick the more popular virtual idol or the one that fit the theme of its game better? Song Shihua could neither decide nor speculate.
"You wanna fight us for the endorsement deal? Let's see what you've got." Song Shihua summoned the senior execs from the virtual idol department for an emergency meeting in his office. It took up half the day.
Yet outside observers didn't care about Song Shihua's plans. All eyes were on the Yanzhou Music Association's review. Without their blessing, other industry insiders were reluctant to draw their own conclusions, even if they thought the second chapter wasn't inferior to the first.
The person who deemed the first chapter an "epic" last time was Ming Cang, the deputy head of the Yanzhou Music Association. He was also the former president of the Qi'an Academy of Music. No one from the academy had said anything yet—they were waiting to hear from Ming Cang. It would be an embarrassment if they broke their silence at the urging of news outlets and diverged from Ming Cang's take.
Silver Wing staffers were also waiting for the "Voice of Yanzhou" review because it was considered the most authoritative publication in the entire Yanzhou music industry. That was also why no one dared question the "epic" categorization of the first chapter. The Yanzhou Music Association might have had its internal politics, but anything published on their official website was gospel. It carried with it the reputation of the entire Yanzhou Music Association. No one would dare to dissent on the official website because of personal grudges. If they did, they would do so in another setting, like in media interviews.
On the 50th floor of Silver Wing Tower, besides Fang Zhao, everyone else on the Polar Light project team was glued to the website of "Voice of Yanzhou."
"How come the review still isn't out?"
"It's almost 9. Last time, the review came out around now. It doesn't stand to reason that they would post later this time."
"I'm nervous." Zu Wen was glued to his screen, hands raised and thumbs twiddling.
He no longer cared about the number of downloads. All he cared about was the judgment of the music association. If they got a negative review, even if the download numbers went up, they wouldn't be considered a total success.
He glanced at Fang Zhao beside him, who was calmly browsing on his computer. Zu Wen wanted to ask Fang Zhao something but closed his mouth as soon as he opened it. 'Forget it—who knows what kind of background music is playing in Fang Zhao's head.'
After 9 a.m., the eagerly anticipated review from Ming Cang didn't appear, but another deputy head of the music association, Dina, posted instead.
"Deputy chairman Ming is a bit emotional right now, so I've showed up instead." Dina's old smiley face appeared on the official website of "Voice of Yanzhou."
Many were confused by Dina's comment. Why was Ming Cang so emotional? It was just one song. What an overreaction.
But Dina carried no less weight than Ming Cang. In fact, in terms of seniority, Dina was senior to Ming Cang. He belonged to an even older generation of musicians. It was even better to hear from him.
Normally, Dina refrained from commenting on the work of newcomers. Usually, what elicited comment from this seasoned veteran was an A-list star or an extremely popular song. But Polar Light was a special case. Ming Cang had classified the first movement an "epic," after all, which piqued Dina's curiosity. He was waiting around for the second movement today as well and was willing to offer his two cents.
Music journalists perked their ears, not wanting to miss out on the words of wisdom from this music veteran who was more than 100 years old.
"Many people have asked me if 'Cocoon Breach,' the second movement of '100-Year Period of Destruction,' qualifies as an epic. As for this question..."
Ears perked up even more.
"Let's set that question aside. Let's first discuss the concept of an epic," Dina said in a relaxed pace.
Journalists who were getting ready to copy, paste, and send: "..."
People who knew Dina had already rolled their eyes. That old geezer was still the same, switching gears halfway through a thought. Who knew when he would get back on topic. A downright tease.
Dina didn't care what other people thought. He spoke at his own pace. Restraining his smile somewhat, he launched into a solemn commentary.
"The genre of epics has to be traced to the Period of Destruction or an even earlier time. Be it the ancient tradition of chanting, or the folk songs that circulated in the imperial court, in army barracks, or among ordinary people and were passed on for generations—they can all be considered epic forms. Many epics extolling heroics during the 100 years of war also appeared after the Period of Destruction, in the beginning of the New Era. But as peaceful times prevailed and the war became a distant memory, no one bothered to listen to these songs any more. Nowadays, any grand pieces that can stir emotions are easily labeled 'epic.' But many people forget that epics were intended to honor heroes."
The seasoned veteran continued to expound on the history and development of epics and how more contemporary styles evolved.
The journalists looked like they were constipated. They quietly urged, "Can you get to the point, old man? Just state your conclusion and explain later so we can file."
But music professionals were paying close attention. Dina's spiel helped them understand the creative process behind the two chapters and their arrangements.
"...Life itself is a series of stumbles and recoveries. Likewise, the second movement moves from adversity to triumph. The point is for people to experience hope through the fluent flow of musical notes... Another thing worth mentioning is that in the second movement, which barely lasted four minutes, there are hundreds of tracks created by virtual instruments and hundreds of tones. The arrangement and use of vocals is outstanding. You can tell the second chapter was worked on by a top-notch symphony mixer and electronic music arranger. But I couldn't find a distinguishing signature, so I'm also curious whose work this is."
Music professionals knew that the most minor slip-ups in mixing and arrangement would stifle the ear. For example, too many modulations or out-of-sync or overwhelming background vocals could be easily magnified and deemed glaring inconsistencies.
Judging from these comments, the mixer and arranger were stellar. Only, it wasn't known who these two seasoned musicians were.
After much waiting, Dina finally pronounced, "This is indeed worthy of the 'epic' label," which sent the press corps scrambling to file.
But industry insiders, including Dina himself, were still curious who had composed the two movements. Was it really the newcomer Fang Zhao, as was rumored? Who were the symphony mixer and electronic music arranger?
Senior musicians who didn't pay close attention to newcomers took the time to read the credits at the end of the music video. They were still clueless, because they had never heard of a single member of the Polar Light project team.
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