After she left, someone uploaded that scene to the internet, and the forum exploded overnight.
Back then, the literary and artistic world was filled with rock music, love poems, and endless stories of passionate lovers. Romance was always interpreted through the lens of love between men and women.
But when Little Shuying's understanding of romance merged with the spirit of the nation, people witnessed something entirely new for the first time. It was as if a door had been pushed open. After that, countless people began expressing romance in ways they had never imagined before.
Some offered cups of fine wine before the statue of Li Bai, honoring the poet who loved drinking throughout his life.
Some laid flowers before the memorials of fallen heroes.
Some even traveled to distant border regions and placed cakes before the graves of soldiers who had died defending the country.
There were countless such stories. Yet among all those acts of romance, people never forgot the little girl who had first broadened the nation's understanding of what romance could be.
Then came the competition at the Primary School. One after another, first-grade children presented their own interpretations of romance.
Some spent precious time accompanying their families.
Some fed stray cats and dogs.
Some quietly helped strangers without asking for recognition.
At that time, Principal Guochang was sitting among the judges. When Little Shuying took out the carefully preserved newspaper clipping, the teachers around him were stunned. Only he remained silent.
After a long while, he finally sighed. "Is there really someone who is born romantic while remaining completely grounded in reality?"
He gazed at the little girl on stage and murmured softly, "Beauty is often an illusion, yet she carries beauty into the mortal world."
And now, on the program stage, Guochang watched the replay of his younger self, and a bitter smile appeared on his face. "What exactly was Yu Ye's past? How could someone without profound cultural foundations say words like that to describe Huo Qubing? Such insight... such understanding..."
He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't sound like the words of a man who spent his entire life trapped in hardship."
Beside him, Shuying was equally shocked. Back then, she had been too young. She didn't understand what her father meant when he talked about losing the Qilian Mountains.
She didn't understand what Fenglang Juxu represented.
She understood nothing.
But now, watching the replay years later, her heart trembled violently. In her memories, the image of that man was always blurry. Drunk. Silent. Negative. A father whose words she disliked and whose existence she could never accept.
He spoke strangely. He looked nothing like a scholar or teacher. Yet as the footage replayed before her eyes, scattered fragments of memory suddenly connected together. Her earliest understanding of romance... Had all begun with him.
When he was drunk, he spoke about Li Bai.
When he was drunk, he joked that Huo Qubing probably liked candy.
With that indifferent and casual tone of his, he unknowingly planted countless seeds in her mind. And from those seeds, her unique romantic worldview had gradually grown. Then, somehow, those ideas became wildly popular throughout literary and artistic circles. Everything had started there.
Later, the school received official commendations, and she also received recognition from literary organizations. The awards strengthened her confidence and expanded her understanding of romance. From that moment onward, her creative path changed completely.
The films she later directed and the scripts she later wrote all carried a style of romance unlike anything seen before.
The Pianist at Sea.
The Blind Pianist.
Titanic.
One masterpiece after another emerged.
Years later, Yu Shuying had once said during an interview that the recognition she received from that childhood performance had unlocked her creative potential and ultimately allowed her to create those films.
But now... She stared at the man on the screen. Drunk. Disheveled. Ordinary. Yet somehow he had accurately captured the spirit of Huo Qubing. Somehow he had articulated a broader, grander romance belonging to an entire nation. Was this really the father she remembered from when she was six years old?
"What exactly is your romance?" Shuying whispered unconsciously.
It was a question she had never asked him before because she had always believed that a lifetime of suffering had already crushed him. But now... For the first time... She was genuinely curious.
The screen changed once more.
This time, Little Shuying was six years and four months old.
Just as before, she proudly carried home another certificate. Her face was filled with confidence. And for the first time in her life, she openly challenged her father. "I am excellent! I'm better than you!"
Her childish voice was adorable and serious and Ye merely smiled.
"Really? A photograph? A song that lasts only a few minutes?" He looked at her calmly. "Will people remember you forever because of that? If you're capable, make a movie. Create your own movie. Create a literary masterpiece."
His tone was full of apparent disdain. After speaking, he turned away and continued preparing dinner.
Shuying puffed up her cheeks in anger. Clenching her fists, she shouted through gritted teeth, "I will! I'll definitely create something the whole world wants to watch!"
Her roar echoed through the room, but he never turned around. From the outside, it seemed as though he truly didn't care. As though he looked down on her ambitions.
Then the camera zoomed in, and everyone suddenly froze. Ye was washing rice, yet the corners of his lips had quietly risen. Every strand of hair seemed filled with happiness, and a gentle smile spread across his face. Then he softly murmured words that were barely audible.
"You must remain strong. You must preserve pure idealism in literature and art. This achievement is only the most ordinary of your talents. For example... The Pianist at Sea. One day, you should make that film."
Because the footage was old and the audio unclear, viewers could only roughly infer the meaning through lip-reading. Yet that made the revelation even more terrifying.
How was that possible? At that time, Little Shuying was only six years old, but the film The Pianist at Sea would not be produced until nearly ten years later. No film with that title existed anywhere during that period.
For the first time, Yu Shuying frowned deeply on stage. Something felt terribly wrong. The certainty she had always possessed was beginning to crack. Yet she still gritted her teeth.
"Impossible. The Pianist at Sea was created by my team and me. We spent countless days and nights developing it. It must be a coincidence."
Her voice was firm because nobody understood that movie better than she did. She had poured her entire heart into it. She knew every scene. Every frame. Every creative decision. How could it possibly have anything to do with that man?
Back then, she barely even spoke to him. Their worlds were completely disconnected.
Beside her, Cheng frowned thoughtfully. "He worked for a major company before; maybe he had some talent, but only a little. At most, he knew some historical knowledge and cultural references."
Another guest immediately nodded. "Exactly. And think about it. How did Yu Ye create Under the Sea? I still believe the song was written by Liu's. The emotions are too delicate, too gentle, like flowing water."
Nana also agreed. "That's true. He never explained the actual creative background."
Across the countless livestream comments, many viewers felt the same.
Then, the screen changed again, and a brand-new memory appeared.
After Little Shuying made her vow to create movies, Yu Ye returned to work overtime. Late that night, while delivering food, he accidentally slipped and the meal scattered across the ground.
The customer cursed at him.
The manager criticized him relentlessly, and then the manager deducted his wages and forced him to resign.
No dignity.
No sympathy.
Nothing.
His lonely figure walked toward a Lake, step by step, like a soul abandoned by the world. When he finally arrived, it was already midnight, so the lakeshore was empty. Silent and desolate, he stood there quietly. Moonlight spilled through the cracks in dark clouds, and the pale light illuminated his face.
Slowly, he removed his coat, and underneath was a patched white shirt. At that moment, his expression was so lonely that it made people's hearts ache; then he began walking toward the water. And suddenly, everyone realized something. This... Was the origin of Under the Sea.
The shattered moonlight.
The dark clouds.
The silent world.
Everything matched the song.
Everything matched perfectly.
"!!!" On stage, Guochang suddenly stood up, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "He's using his own life as the background of the song! He lived it!"
The entire venue erupted.
Cheng stood.
Yue stood.
Spectators rose from their seats simultaneously.
All eyes were fixed on the giant screen.
Under endless hardship, Ye had reached the edge of despair, and it was obvious. This wasn't his first time coming here. Again and again. Night after night. He had walked alone to the lake, standing beneath the moonlight and listening to the silence while enduring a loneliness nobody else could understand. The melody of Under the Sea had been born from that despair.
And this time, the audience finally witnessed the source of the song's soul.
"You..." Shuying's voice trembled.
Every other image vanished from her mind; only that lonely figure remained. A thin man in a patched white shirt, expressionless and walking toward the water beneath overwhelming despair.
Meanwhile, somewhere else.
Little Shuying was still practicing Under the Sea while the lights of thousands of homes remained bright.
Nobody knew.
Nobody had ever known.
That while the city slept peacefully... A broken man was standing alone beneath the moonlight. Transforming despair into music. Transforming pain into art. Transforming his shattered life into a song.
"And then...?" On stage, Yue wiped away her tears, and her voice trembled.
Now she finally understood why she had felt such unbearable resonance when listening to the song and why every lyric carried such heartbreaking weight. Because none of it was imagined. None of it was fabricated. Every note came from real suffering and every word came from lived experience.
With tears streaming down her face, she said, "What happened after that?"
She cried as she looked at the screen. Because for the first time, everyone wanted to know the ending of the lonely man standing beneath the moonlit sea.