"Fear etched on the faces of children,
The wheat fields have fallen in the path of the war chariots,
The dandelions are scattering,
Their desperate flight,
She only sings this song of fallen wars..."
As the rhythm gradually quickened, many in the audience began to tap their feet to the beat.
But under this rhythm, the lyrics described a war scene with a strong visual impact.
War chariots passing through wheat fields, flattening the crops.
Paratroopers scattering like dandelions in the air.
A scene that evoked deep despair.
Especially for those in the E nation who had experienced war, hearing this passage and looking at the translation on the big screen, their faces were solemn and thoughtful.
"Evil night burns candlelight, heaven breaks to end conflict,
Sorrowful songs spread for miles, homeland knows no famine,
Innocence on this path,
Stumbling,
He was cut by the tall grass..."
When it reached this part.
The bullet comments were split into two polarized groups.
Foreigners listened, understanding bits and pieces, but the people of Huaxia were ecstatic!
They finally realized that the lyrics of this song were as poetic as "Qi Li Xiang"!
Whether it was the visual imagery from the beginning or the word choice and sentence construction later, it was definitely top-tier in Chinese music.
However, while the lyrics were well-written, there was a big problem: the translation couldn't convey the context at all.
"Damn it, I'm so anxious, these foreigners don't understand Chinese and can't appreciate how awesome these lyrics are!"
"Is anyone fluent in English? Please translate properly for the foreigners. What's with the official translation? It doesn't capture the depth of the original lyrics at all!"
The netizens of Huaxia were anxious.
But the foreigners were equally anxious.
"What are these Huaxia people doing? Is there a delay? Has it finished?"
"Why are they reacting so strongly?"
"I know a little Chinese, and I can only say that these lyrics are very powerful, far beyond the superficial translation."
"F**k! This is the first time I've wanted to learn Chinese so badly!"
Someone started to explain, but this interlude suddenly came to an abrupt end, because in the next moment, the entire song entered the chorus!
"What is the shape of hope in the children's eyes?
Do they wake to bread and breakfast?
Followed by a bowl of hot soup,
The farmer's land and village burned down,
Finally, he picked up his gun,
Yet he slowly grew accustomed to giving up resistance..."
Su Yu played the piano rapidly, the music growing more urgent.
The piano, accompanied by simple drumbeats, depicted an incredibly tragic scene.
Under the shadow of war, the world seemed to be only black and white.
In black and white, the destroyed houses and the scarred land were so moving.
"The hope in the children's eyes,
What is its shape?
Is there a swing in the yard to play on?
Candy in their pockets,
The glint of bayonets sharpened by hatred,
Savage in the distance,
And she smiled, unaware of the panic..."
Under the spotlight, Su Yu was in his element, his hands flying across the piano, giving the audience the feeling of watching a world-class pianist.
Especially the emotion in the piano piece, the fast-paced minor key, made people feel uneasy and urgent, perfectly blending classical elements to create an atmosphere of tension and oppression to the extreme.
Coupled with the imagery described in the lyrics, it made people sigh at how unique Ting Yu's choice of subject matter was.
No one had ever thought of looking at war from a child's perspective.
Moreover, combining children with ordinary things like bread and swings.
Things that were originally common had become a luxury in these children's hearts.
Under this contrast, the E nation audience present couldn't help but shed tears.
The piano interlude always gave a sense of oppression.
That feeling of powerlessness, of being at the mercy of circumstances, permeated the entire venue.
At this moment, photos of Su Yu visiting refugee camps began to appear on the big screen.
These were scenes captured by the cinematographer Lisa.
In the photos, elderly women sat outside dilapidated tents, their eyes numb and hollow, as if all hope had been lost.
They could have lived happily, enjoying life with their children and husbands.
But war had turned their homes into ruins, forcing them to live in broken tents.
War had taken their children or husbands, the pillars of their families, and their lives had collapsed.
Besides these elderly people and women, what was even more moving were the children.
The children had dry hair, were covered in dirt, but their eyes were remarkably clear, filled with curiosity, and some even had smiles on their faces.
But these smiles felt incredibly ironic.
However.
In the last photo, a little girl in the ruins holding a worn-out teddy bear, her extremely innocent eyes stared at the camera.
The impact of this scene made countless hearts sink!
Homes destroyed, loved ones scattered, war was never about heroism, but an incredibly cruel tragedy.
Blood was not for showcasing personal heroism, but for defending one's homeland and resisting invasion.
This was something that even those living in peaceful countries like Huaxia could deeply feel.
Indeed, because their peace was exchanged with flesh and blood by their ancestors, they could empathize even more.
"Fear etched on the faces of children,
The wheat fields have fallen in the path of the war chariots..."
North City.
The slums.
On the steps where the singing took place during the day, a projector was set up.
This equipment looked so out of place in the dilapidated slums.
After all, everyone relied on the country for basic sustenance, let alone entertainment equipment.
And at this moment, the projected image was of the competition on "Time Music King."
The one playing the projector was that E nation girl, Rossi.
And at this moment, more than half of the slum residents had come to watch the show.
They were the victims of war, and their feelings towards war were even more profound.
Among them were many who had previously had happy families, some even received higher education and could read.
A woman, dressed in rags but very clean, holding a child about three years old, stared blankly at the screen, tears involuntarily flowing down her cheeks.
The child in her arms saw this and quickly reached out to wipe away her tears.
His small hand wiped her face but found it couldn't be cleaned.
The child became a little flustered: "Mommy, don't cry."
Perhaps because she didn't get a response, the child burst into tears.
Only then did the woman snap back to reality, she looked deeply at the child in her arms, then held him tightly.
She didn't comfort him, but murmured: "Bread, candy, bread, candy..."
These things, once ordinary, had now become a luxury.
Every mother wants to give her child the best life, but the helplessness after their family was ruined was like a heavy stone pressing on her heart, making her feel immensely desperate.
She wanted her child to eat bread, to have candy in his pockets.
But now, even basic sustenance was a problem, how could such treatment be possible?