He walked the path home quickly. The low, rammed-earth house drew nearer, smoke already curling from the chimney—his father, Lin Jianguo, had returned early from the town.
"Dad, I'm back." Lin Chen pushed open the unlatched wooden door.
Lin Jianguo was squatting by the stove, lighting the fire. A man of few words, years of labor had made him look much older than his age. He looked up, a hint of softness fleeting in his eyes as he saw his son. "Mn. Get the herbs?"
"Got them. Good quality." Lin Chen set down the basket and took out the herbs. "How's Mom today?"
"Just fell asleep. Looks a bit better." Lin Jianguo paused, his gaze falling on Lin Chen's hands, roughened by years of work. His voice was low. "A-Chen... I asked again at Boss Zhang's place in town. He still needs someone to move goods. Eighty a day, includes a meal... What do you think..."
Lin Chen's movements stiffened. He knew what his father meant. The family's finances were tight, his mother's medicine was a significant expense, and it had been a year since he graduated high school—it was time to find proper work to help out. Going to work in town was the path for most young people in the village.
He remained silent, not answering immediately. The fire in the stove crackled, illuminating his young but already resolute profile.
"Dad," he looked up, his eyes clear and firm. "Give me a little more time. I... I want to try that competition."
"Competition?" Lin Jianguo frowned.
"'China's New Voice'," Lin Chen explained. "They have auditions in the provincial capital. Online... a lot of people online say I sing well, that I should try. If... if I make it past the preliminaries, there's a chance to go to a bigger stage, maybe even win prize money..."
His voice trailed off as he saw his father's expression grow more grave, not happy.
"Can singing... put food on the table?" Lin Jianguo sighed. "A-Chen, it's not that I don't support you. It's just... families like ours can't afford to take risks. Those things are for city folk, for rich kids. Going to the provincial capital—travel, lodging—it all costs money. What if you don't get selected? Isn't it just a waste?"
Lin Chen understood the logic. But the spark of music in his heart, once lit, was hard to extinguish. Especially when he received sincere praise and encouragement on "Echo" time and again, he couldn't help but nurture a sliver of hope—maybe his voice really could be heard by more people?
"I know," Lin Chen lowered his head, looking at his toes. "I just want to try once. Just once. If I don't even pass the audition, I'll let it go. I'll come back and work for Boss Zhang."
Lin Jianguo looked at his son, silent for a long time. He knew his son's obsession with music. It had been his passion since childhood, the only bright spot in his impoverished life. As a father, didn't he want to support his son's dream? It was just that reality was too heavy.
"...How much money do you need?" Lin Jianguo finally asked, his voice hoarse.
"No, not the family's money," Lin Chen said hurriedly. "I... I've saved a bit. Uncle Wang gave me extra for helping with the mountain goods before. I saved it myself."
He had indeed saved a little—not much, but enough for a round trip to the provincial capital and a night or two in the cheapest lodgings.
Lin Jianguo fell silent again, finally just waving a hand. "...Let's eat first. We'll talk after your mother wakes up."
After dinner, Lin Chen tended to his mother, giving her the medicine. Then he sat on the creaky old bamboo chair in the yard and pulled out his phone again. A red official notification pop-up from the "Echo" app read: "'China's New Voice' National Auditions Begin! Searching for the Purest Voices!"
He opened the link, carefully reading the rules. The provincial capital audition was next Saturday.
His heart began to race uncontrollably.
Just then, a private message popped up. It was from a user named "Music Old-Timer," a long-time follower on the platform who often gave very professional and pertinent feedback on his work. Lin Chen respected him greatly.