Chapter 111: Sharing Experience

The song "Return to the Past" gave Southern Xiao Zhen, the most professional musician in the café, quite a shock—he finally witnessed the true strength of Huang Guolun’s original work. But this was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Afterward, Huang Guolun performed several more of his original compositions, and both Southern and Shen Yumeng were utterly astonished, as if they had just encountered a musical prodigy.

In truth, Huang Guolun hadn’t even performed all the songs he had prepared for the rehearsal that evening, nor had Bai Yao sung all of hers. They were just warming up and getting accustomed to the setting. Yet even this brief glimpse allowed everyone in the café to savor a boundless, heavenly delight.

As Zhao Jing put it, by the end, Southern and Shen Yumeng were ready to kneel before Huang Guolun’s singing. Not only these two, but Wang Peng and his group of university friends were also prepared to kneel and listen reverently.

Previously, Feng Zheng and the others thought Wang Peng and Jiang Lili had exaggerated the legendary status of Teacher Huang. But after witnessing the performance of Huang Guolun and his protégé Bai Yao at the café that night, they were certain: this master and apprentice duo were truly unparalleled geniuses in the folk music scene.

Especially Uncle Huang—the songs he composed were simply exquisite! From classics to pop, from folk to rock, he conquered all genres effortlessly. Calling him a musical polymath was no exaggeration.

These students were all thrilled and energized that night. Reluctantly leaving the café, they vowed to arrive even earlier the next day, eagerly awaiting Huang Guolun’s next performance.

Having garnered such high praise, Huang Guolun felt even more confident about his special concert the following evening. Zhao Jing was especially buoyant and brimming with confidence. She declared her intent to make the upcoming music event a grand success, ensuring it would blaze through the skies of Qing Tian.

To better prepare for the show, Huang Guolun didn’t linger at the café any longer that night. Around nine o’clock, he took Bai Yao home to rest.

Singing was physically demanding and required the voice to stay in peak condition. So that night, Huang Guolun and Bai Yao didn’t continue rehearsing. After tidying their thoughts a bit at home, they got ready to wash up and sleep.

Before parting ways for the night, Bai Yao and Huang Guolun discussed the matter of telling jokes during the performance, seeking his opinion.

Zhao Jing had suggested that between songs, they should tell some jokes or amusing stories to lighten the atmosphere. This, she argued, would engage the audience more than singing alone. Many singers tell jokes during their concerts to ease the mood, and in a music event with a live streaming element, jokes were even more necessary to enliven the crowd.

Huang Guolun, however, felt that telling jokes should be Zhao Jing’s job; he and Bai Yao should focus solely on singing.

Zhao Jing disagreed. Huang Guolun’s refusal was understandable—his jokes really weren’t funny—but she insisted Bai Yao must prepare a few jokes. Given Bai Yao’s striking appearance and deep, husky voice, her humor would likely have a unique charm. The audience would love watching her tell jokes, and perhaps they’d even reward her with gifts.

Zhao Jing further advised Bai Yao to adopt a consistent joke theme, much like herself, to leave a lasting impression on the audience. This way, whenever Bai Yao appeared in future live streams, viewers would immediately recall her distinctive traits and personality.

There was theory to back this up in communications studies.

Our society today was highly labeled; everyone was tagged with various identities. In the public sphere, if you wanted to be remembered quickly and clearly, you had to highlight your most distinctive label for the world to recognize.

Take Zhao Jing herself—she had firmly embraced the “Xiao Si” joke label. No matter where she appeared, people knew she was associated with those jokes, leaving a deep, unforgettable impression.

Being branded with a fixed label wasn’t always a blessing, but it certainly made one memorable. Navigating the world of live streaming and the entertainment industry was no different. The foundation of all progress was to be remembered.

Zhao Jing believed that with Bai Yao’s looks and potential, if she worked hard, she could easily surpass Zhao Jing herself to become an even more outstanding online host. Perhaps she might even become a wildly popular top anchor like their senior.

That night, Zhao Jing imparted much knowledge and experience about communications to Bai Yao.

She also suggested Bai Yao start a “Qiang Dong” series, telling jokes about Qiang Dong from time to time to quickly establish her brand.

For example, she shared this joke:

“Honey, if your father and I both fell into a river at the same time, who would you save first?”

“In Chinese culture, respecting elders is paramount, and there’s an order of seniority. I’d save the older one first.”

“I knew you’d save me first—you truly are a simple and kind woman!” Qiang Dong replied happily.

After telling this joke, Zhao Jing and Huang Guolun shared knowing smiles.

Bai Yao, however, was a bit dumbfounded. The beautiful sister was genuinely stunning but had no bottom line when it came to telling jokes!

Unlike Zhao Jing, Bai Yao was more reserved. She couldn’t bring herself to make fun of others’ pain or shortcomings for laughs.

She herself had many flaws and vulnerabilities—the peculiar huskiness of her voice, her tragic and pitiful background. If others mocked these faults, she would be deeply hurt.

Putting herself in others’ shoes, if she ridiculed others’ weaknesses, they would be just as upset.

In short, she couldn’t bear to do such hurtful things.

Still, Bai Yao greatly agreed with Zhao Jing’s communication theories and benefited immensely from them.

Upon hearing that online live streaming could easily earn over ten thousand yuan, sometimes even tens of thousands or more per month, Bai Yao’s interest in the field grew.

Becoming a major host was one thing, but even if she became a minor streamer earning 18,000 yuan a month, her grandfather could soon move into a grand “mansion.”

She also learned that Zhao Jing could casually earn several hundred yuan by telling a single joke, which made Bai Yao take Zhao Jing’s advice even more seriously.

That night, she discussed this with Huang Guolun.

“Teacher, what do you think about me telling a few jokes about the Three Kingdoms tomorrow? Sister Zhao Jing suggested I start a joke series, and I think a Three Kingdoms series would be quite interesting.”

“You’re really going to tell jokes?”

Bai Yao held up one finger and smiled wryly, “Just a few harmless ones. I think Sister Zhao Jing is right—telling jokes can really make the live stream atmosphere lighter and more loving.”

Clearly, Bai Yao was determined to follow Zhao Jing’s example. Huang Guolun reminded her, “If your jokes aren’t funny, it might backfire and make things awkward. You have to be aware of that.”

After a pause, he added, “Though, girls like you who are very beautiful can get away with telling not-so-funny jokes without it being too embarrassing.”

Bai Yao laughed, “Exactly. Like Sister Zhao Jing said, as long as you’re determined to tell them, there will be an audience.”

Finally, Huang Guolun relented. “If you want to tell jokes, go ahead, but be sure to keep it appropriate. A Three Kingdoms series should be fine.”

“Yeah, there are plenty of funny jokes about the Three Kingdoms. Last week, I heard Zhang Liang tell one that was pretty amusing.”

At the mention of Zhang Liang, Huang Guolun’s first reaction was, “Zhang Liang? That guy’s jokes always seem to involve poop, don’t they?”

“Haha,” Bai Yao laughed happily. “Zhang Liang’s ‘Flying Man’ label is stuck on him forever. Even you think he’s always dealing with poop?”

Huang Guolun put down his throat-soothing tea cup and said, “Don’t remind me. That kid just can’t stay away from poop. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“The Three Kingdoms joke he told has nothing to do with poop,” Bai Yao said, then furrowed her brows slightly and added, “Well, maybe a little bit. Listen and see if you find it funny. If you do, I’ll tell it during the live stream tomorrow.”

Bai Yao had an excellent memory and recounted Zhang Liang’s joke precisely:

It went that Cao Cao had captured Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei in a forest. He told each of them to bring back a fruit.

Zhang Fei brought an apple. Cao Cao ordered him to shove it up his backside, but Zhang Fei couldn’t do it, so Cao Cao killed him.

Guan Yu brought three grapes. Cao Cao told him to do the same. He managed to shove in the first grape smoothly, but when he tried the second, he suddenly burst out laughing, spraying out the first grape as well. He was then executed.

In the underworld, Zhang Fei met Guan Yu and asked, “Second brother, why did you laugh? If you hadn’t, you could have escaped and avenged us!”

Guan Yu, with a red face and stifled laughter, replied, “I didn’t want to laugh, but I just saw our eldest brother coming back carrying a durian…”

At “pfft,” Huang Guolun found it hard not to laugh listening to Bai Yao’s husky voice tell such a joke.

Bai Yao grinned inwardly. “Isn’t it funny, Teacher?”

“Not bad. Telling jokes like this is definitely better than those about Xiao Si or Qiang Dong. If you want to tell them, go ahead. Just don’t be as excessive as Zhao Jing. And during the live stream, try not to tell overly dirty jokes. You’re still in high school, and your classmates might see you online. You don’t want to set a bad example or get in trouble with your homeroom teacher.”

“I understand. I’ll be sure to keep it appropriate.”

With Huang Guolun’s approval, Bai Yao felt reassured.

That night before sleeping, she searched online for many Three Kingdoms jokes to select the funniest ones for the live stream.

Huang Guolun, on the other hand, didn’t want to think so much. He was older and lacked the energy to prepare so many things. After bathing, calling Mrs. Zhou to ask if Huang Tao had been mischievous in the northern suburbs, and showing some concern, he got ready for bed.

Just as he lay down, a notification sounded.

Rubbing his eyes, he picked up his phone and saw a seldom-contacted message on WeChat from Zhao Yan: “Teacher Huang, are you resting?”

Huang Guolun replied truthfully, “I’m about to rest. What’s up? Anything?”

Zhao Yan hesitated for nearly half a minute before replying, “There is… something.”