"Frank's back!"
"That cheating, violent brute actually has the nerve to get on stage?"
"Get that scumbag out of the industry!"
As Frank stepped onto the stage, the familiar jeers echoed through the audience. Amelia Quinn and Liam Reed's fans were the loudest, practically rabid. In the last episode, Frank's song "Plain Face" had brutally slammed Amelia Quinn for her vanity, and then when he confronted Alex backstage, he'd taken a shot at Liam too. Their fans absolutely loathed him. The insults were vicious.
Other audience members, though gentler, still couldn't resist booing. After all, Frank had been accused of multiple affairs and that two-year-old assault scandal. Anyone not booing him now would surely be seen as having questionable morals.
Some booed with a hint of regret:
"That song, 'Plain Face,' was actually pretty good. What a shame."
"Frank does have some talent, but his character is just terrible. Sigh."
"Wait, there's no proof of the cheating or the assault, why are you all believing it?"
A few timid voices of doubt piped up, but they were quickly swallowed by the overwhelming boos and curses.
On stage, Frank stood tall and resolute. The storm of boos seemed to highlight his pristine, unblemished pride, like a lone, sturdy pine against a raging blizzard. Looking at this upright, gentle man, Amelia Quinn felt a brief flicker of lost memories. Back at the school's freshman welcoming party, the first time she saw Frank, it was just like this. He stood on stage, a faint smile on his lips, and instantly captured the hearts of countless girls. Winning Frank's affection was once Amelia's greatest pride. She never imagined that years later, they would become like this.
Just then, the stage lights dimmed, and the big screen behind him flickered to life. All the previous performers had prepared MVs to accompany their songs, so the audience wasn't surprised, ready to unleash their boos at any moment as they watched the screen.
However, the simple or elaborate MV footage they expected didn't appear. Instead, on the screen, larger than the stage itself, a single sentence emerged:
"70 years ago, in a quiet frontier town called Harmony Creek."
People were baffled.
"What is this?"
"No MV, just a text background?"
"I thought it might be simple, but not this simple!"
"And the setting doesn't quite fit. What's '70 years ago' got to do with a classic Western theme?"
Someone realized:
"70 years ago... Wasn't that when the gangs ruled the Wild West?"
The text on the big screen continued to scroll:
"There was a wandering balladeer, Elias, whose folk songs, especially his ballads of lost love, were beloved by the common folk."
"Trouble came. A ruthless outlaw gang, the 'Vipers,' seized Harmony Creek. They plundered, burned, and demanded Elias perform for them, threatening to butcher everyone in the town if he refused!"
"Inside the dusty saloon, Elias, with his worn guitar, took the stage. His voice, usually so sweet, was now filled with a haunting sorrow. He sang of love's unexpected beginnings and its deep, lingering hold, while below him sat a pack of ruthless wolves, a den of vipers."
"The song grew more defiant, more enraged. Elias suddenly roared: 'Light the fuse!' Instantly, the entire saloon was engulfed in flames!"
"Below, the outlaws howled like trapped beasts."
"On stage, amidst the inferno, the music played on."
"The old timers used to say, 'Once the music starts, it cannot stop.'"
"Fire raged, timbers fell... but the ballad wasn't finished."
The recording hall was silent. That conflict, 70 years ago, was a raw wound in the soul of the West, a harrowing epic that stirred the blood of every American descendant. That period of history birthed countless brave heroes and moving tales. Yet, this particular story on the big screen was one no one had ever heard before. But just reading the words brought tears to every American's eyes, a surge of grief and righteous anger.
In the control room, a similar silence reigned. Every contestant's song material had to be reviewed by the production team, and when they saw Frank's song, they were stunned. If Frank could perform this song perfectly, it would likely make the second episode explode in popularity again. It might even push American Voice to a new height. But if he failed...
The two associate directors didn't dare to gamble. They even suggested to Director Scott that Frank change his song at the last minute. But Director Scott wanted to take the risk. The first season of American Voice was very successful, and many thought the second season was just dragging it out, saying Director Scott had run out of ideas, that there were no new tricks. The network was also considering replacing American Voice with a new variety show next season. Director Scott was holding onto a burning ambition. He wanted to prove that his show could be even better. Frank, perhaps, was the wild card. I'm going all in on this one!
Director Scott wanted to gamble, but boos once again erupted in the audience.
"Such a serious and tragic theme, and Frank actually dares to sing it? Is he worthy?"
"Exactly, this is about national spirit! Does that scumbag deserve to touch it?"
"The background story made me cry, but the moment I realized Frank was singing it, I immediately lost interest!"
"No matter how Frank sings, I'll never give him a score!"
Amelia Quinn frowned, shaking her head slightly. Frank was indeed very clever. A theme involving national pride naturally evokes empathy. But you also need the ability to pull it off. A great background story combined with a poorly sung song would only have the opposite effect. It seemed that after this performance, Frank could indeed exit the entertainment industry.
Amelia Quinn felt a sense of relief, yet also a subtle pang of loss. She gazed intently at the tall figure on the stage. This must be the last time she'd see Frank sing.
Celeste Monroe also knitted her delicate brows, her hands clasped tightly beneath the table. This kind of theme: if performed well, it could make the song legendary. If performed poorly, it would invite universal condemnation. Too risky. She should have asked him what song he was singing, even if it meant breaking the confidentiality agreement.
As everyone pondered, the song title appeared on the big screen:
The Balladeer
On stage, Frank stood before the microphone, his hands slightly raised. A soaring, desolate Western folk melody began to play. The sound instantly silenced all the boos and chatter.
Next, Frank began to sing the lyrics:
"Love, born from nowhere, settles deep within the soul."
"A traditional aria?" Celeste Monroe recognized the style of the vocal improvisation.
The others gaped, their expressions frozen. Frank could sing like that? Why did it sound so good?
Before they could fully register their shock, Frank's performance continued:
"A tale unfolded, fiddle bowing, singing of joy and sorrow, but it wasn't about me..."
"Used to pouring joy and pain into the worn-out notes, what if the old verses finally frayed? Ashes and dust, it's all me."
Surprisingly, Frank's performance was not as terrible as people expected. The transition from the initial high, soaring Western folk melody to the modern song's vocal style was incredibly natural and smooth. Frank's voice had also returned to its deep, magnetic quality, carrying a hint of melancholy, perfectly matching the background story on the big screen. People seemed to see that small frontier town, not yet ravaged by conflict, where a balladeer stood on stage every day, singing to a full house, yet often despised for his humble profession.
The last line of the verse brought a solemn expression to everyone's face:
"A tumbleweed in chaos, watching prairie fires burn the land, humble yet daring not to forget my homeland, even if no one knows my name..."