Chapter 035: Acceptance Speech

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June 3rd, 1995 – Binhai City Cultural Palace

Though the weather outside was drizzly and gray, inside the hall, a wave of heat and excitement surged. The annual Binhai City Middle School Calligraphy Competition awards ceremony had arrived once again. This year had seen many unexpected works that surprised the organizing committee, making the event even more lively.

Even before the ceremony began, the auditorium was packed with representatives from various schools, the award-winning students, and reporters from Binhai’s major newspapers and magazines.

As the strains of the “Ode to Joy” played, the organizing committee and relevant city cultural bureau leaders took their seats, and a festive air swept through the hall. After waiting over half an hour, the ceremony was finally about to start.

“Yang Tian, have you memorized your speech?” Li Gang, the director of Victory Middle School’s academic office, asked Yang Tian, who stood beside him.

Yang Tian, though dissatisfied with the results of the competition, was nonetheless the focus of the school’s attention. To have a first-year student win first place in the division and fifth in the finals was the best achievement in the rural Victory Middle School’s history.

To accompany Yang Tian to the awards, Director Li Gang had donned his old gray suit—long untouched in the closet—and polished his leather shoes until they gleamed.

The school had even prepared a speech for Yang Tian to deliver upon receiving his award!

“I’ve memorized it,” Yang Tian replied expressionlessly. The speech was nothing more than the typical thanks to the teachers, the city cultural bureau for providing the platform, gratitude to his parents, and so forth—utterly formulaic, requiring little effort to memorize.

“When you get on stage, don’t be nervous. If you can’t remember, just read from the paper. Got it?” Seeing Yang Tian’s quiet demeanor, Li Gang assumed he was intimidated by the grand scene. After all, Yang Tian was just a teenager from the countryside, unaccustomed to such large events—his nervousness was only natural.

Yang Tian nodded heavily, then gave a lopsided grin but said nothing more.

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Soon, the awards ceremony began. Two elegantly dressed hosts stepped onto the oval stage—the male host witty and eloquent, the female radiant and beautiful. After a lively opening speech, they moved on to the main event.

First to receive the award was the student who had won first place. The audience responded with enthusiastic applause. His acceptance speech was long, though it, too, was filled with the usual clichés.

As the second and third prize winners took the stage, the applause gradually diminished. Their speeches, too, were routine. But who could blame them? What heartfelt words could a junior high student compose? Acceptance speeches had always been formulaic—how could they avoid it?

The third prize winner was, in fact, Yang Tian’s cousin, Yang Yang.

By the time the fourth-place recipient walked up, applause had almost ceased. Only the top three drew the crowd’s attention, especially the champion; the rest were mere formalities.

When the fourth-place winner mechanically finished his speech and left the stage, Yang Tian, guided by Li Gang, walked slowly toward the platform. At this point, not only did the applause fade, but murmurs of conversation began to ripple throughout the hall.

Yang Tian paid no mind. Standing in the spotlight, he took a long, deep breath and looked directly at the television cameras, saying, “To have placed in this competition, the person I must thank first is my grandfather. Since I was five, he began to teach me calligraphy—starting with the basics, then copying the Yan style... Back then, I was ignorant and never took his lessons seriously. Only now do I realize why he didn’t dote on me... Despite all my efforts before the competition, I still failed to bring honor to Grandfather’s Yang-style Yan calligraphy, nor did I achieve a truly excellent result. But what I want to say to Grandfather is: please rest assured. I will keep working hard. On this day next year, I will stand here again! Thank you all.”

Yang Tian simply wished to speak to his grandfather. The city’s cultural TV station was broadcasting the ceremony live, and he knew his grandfather would be watching—even if he usually disliked television. This was, after all, a calligraphy event, and his prized grandson Yang Yang was also present.

What Yang Tian did not expect was the stunned silence that followed his speech—everyone, on stage and off, stared at him in amazement. He hadn’t even realized that, as he spoke, tears had begun to fall.

Suddenly, thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall! Earlier, a member of the organizing committee had already handed him his certificate and prize money, but now, the same official returned to the stage, shook Yang Tian’s hand warmly, and nodded to him several times in encouragement, though he said nothing.

Yang Tian was taken aback. He returned to center stage, bowed deeply to the audience, and then walked slowly down.

“You little rascal! You nearly scared me to death at first—why didn’t you stick to the script? I thought you were rambling! Who knew you had so much pent-up emotion? It’s not easy!” When Yang Tian rejoined him, Li Gang first scolded him with a smile, then wiped his own eyes—he was around the same age as Yang Tian’s grandfather, and hearing such words from a child onstage, he couldn’t help being moved.

Yang Tian only grinned, silent as ever, while the applause lingered on and on.

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Back at school, a welcoming ceremony awaited Yang Tian, as grand as the farewell they had held before he left: banners waving, bright red streamers overhead, and the crackle of firecrackers.

Yet none of this brought Yang Tian any joy. He passed through it all as though in a daze, then quietly returned to his classroom.

Still, the school had posted his name on the honor roll at the main gate, where everyone passing by could see it.

During the following week, whenever Yang Tian walked across campus, people would approach to greet him. He knew this was the glory and recognition the calligraphy competition had brought him, and he always returned the greetings politely. Yet his heart was not happy; this was not the reason he had entered the competition.

Returning home for the weekend, he remained listless. Along the way, Huang Juan tried to make conversation, but he only responded half-heartedly. She understood his feelings and did not give up, continuing to look for ways to cheer him up.

Yang Tian felt all of this and was deeply moved—he didn’t want Huang Juan to worry, but he simply couldn’t smile.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t bear the blow of failing his dream, but rather that he truly wanted to bring happiness to his grandfather.

“Brother! Sister Juan! You’re back! Brother, come home with me!” As they reached the entrance of Daliushu Village, they saw Yang Xueling waiting for them. She rushed over, grabbed Yang Tian’s hand, and said anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” Both Yang Tian and Huang Juan were startled.

“Grandfather is here!” Yang Xueling turned, beaming. At once, Yang Tian’s spirits lifted. He dropped his bicycle and ran home with her.

Seeing this, Huang Juan relaxed, her face breaking into a sweet smile. She picked up the bicycle and followed after them.