Movie: Get Alpha Dog at the start

At 4:30 p.m., the entrance of the Experimental Primary School was already crowded with parents picking up their children. Bicycle bells rang incessantly, and children in all sorts of clothes poured out of the school gate like a tide, their chatter filling the entire street.

Erpang, carrying his faded blue schoolbag, slowly walked out of the school gate. As he walked along, head drooping, he suddenly heard a familiar voice: "Erpang!"

Erpang looked up, his eyes immediately lighting up. Under the old locust tree by the school gate, Cui Guomin was pushing his bicycle and waving at him. The gloom on Erpang's face vanished instantly, and he ran over like a playful puppy: "Uncle! What brings you here?"

Cui Guomin reached out and ruffled Erpang's head, making his already messy hair even messier: "Don't you know what you've done?"

Erpang's smiling face immediately fell, his round face scrunched up like a bun: "Mengmeng told you everything?"

Cui Guomin was amused by his nephew's expression: "Mengmeng always says you're stupid, but I think you're quite smart, you guessed it right away."

Erpang lowered his head guiltily, kicking small stones on the ground with his toes: "Uncle, this isn't my fault. They were the ones who first called my dad a convict."

Just as Cui Guomin was about to say something, a clear female voice came from behind him: "Dad."

Cui Meng walked over with her schoolbag on her back. Today, she had her hair tied in a ponytail and was wearing the school's uniform blue and white, looking neat and tidy. She first glared at Erpang with disdain, then went straight to Cui Guomin's bicycle and skillfully sat on the back seat: "Dad, when will our family be able to buy a Xiali? A lot of people at our school already have cars at home."

Cui Guomin and Erpang struggled to climb onto the front bar of the old-fashioned bicycle. Cui Guomin took Erpang's schoolbag and hung it on the handlebars, then pedaled the bicycle with difficulty. With a chubby boy sitting on the front bar and a girl on the back, it was quite a heavy load.

“Soon,” Choi Kookmin said, panting.

"How fast is 'soon'?" Cui Meng persisted.

Choi Kookmin held the handlebars with one hand and gestured with the other to indicate a height: "When you grow this tall."

Cui Meng pursed her lips and didn't speak, but her little face was full of doubt.

The bicycle weaved through the streets at dusk. The autumn wind was already cool, and it felt pleasant on my face. The leaves of the plane trees lining the road were beginning to turn yellow, and occasionally a few would drift down.

Erpang sat on the front bar, his buttocks aching from the pressure, but he dared not say anything. He secretly glanced back at his uncle and saw that Cui Guomin's expression was serious, which made him even more uneasy.

Ten minutes later, the bicycle turned into the alley where Grandpa Cui's house was located. Erpang jumped off the bicycle, ready to say goodbye to Cui Guomin, but was stopped by Cui Guomin.

"Wait, I'll go in with you."

Erpang's heart skipped a beat; he had a bad feeling. Cui Meng, sitting on the back of the bicycle, said impatiently, "Dad, I still need to go back and do my homework."

"No rush, I just want to say a few words to your grandma, it won't take up much of your time." Cui Guomin didn't even turn his head as he pushed his bicycle into the yard.

In the courtyard, the old lady was collecting the clothes that had been drying. Seeing her son and granddaughter arrive, she was somewhat surprised: "Guomin, Mengmeng, what brings you here? Haven't eaten yet? I was just about to cook, please stay and eat."

"No, Mom, I just want to say a few words." Cui Guomin propped up the bicycle, took Erpang's schoolbag off the handlebars, and then took out two notebooks from his own cloth bag. He looked at Erpang with a serious expression: "Erpang, come here."

Erpang dawdled over, his eyes fixed on the two workbooks—one for homework and one for classwork.

"What's going on here?" Cui Guomin opened the notebook and pointed to the two completely different handwritings.

Erpang scratched his head, feigning ignorance, and said, "Isn't this my homework? What's wrong with it?"

"Erpang," Cui Guomin's voice turned serious, "Your grades have always been among the worst in the class, but your uncle has never blamed you, because while you're bad at studying, at least your attitude is correct. Your homework, though messy, is all done by yourself. But now—"

He pointed to the neat handwriting on the homework book: "Tell me honestly, who did this homework for you?"

Erpang cried out in protest, "Uncle, I really did write this homework! I swear!"

"Impossible!" Cui Guomin raised his voice: "This isn't your handwriting at all! Look at this classwork, and then look at this, is this written by the same person?"

He grew angrier as he spoke, rolling up his sleeves. He had never hit his nephew before, but today's situation was different. A poor student could be taught gradually, but having someone else do his homework was a matter of principle, and he absolutely couldn't tolerate it.

Hearing the commotion, the old lady came out of the house. Seeing her son's posture, she quickly came over and said, "Guomin, let's talk this out. What are you doing?"

Erpang, as if grasping at a straw, quickly hid behind the old lady, only peeking out half his head: "Grandma, Uncle is going to hit me..."

Cui Guomin pointed at Erpang and said angrily, "Mom, don't protect him! The evidence is right in front of us, and he's still lying! Don't think I won't beat you just because Grandma is here!"

Erpang was on the verge of tears, stamping his feet in frustration: "Uncle, I really wrote those characters! These past few days, Ji Qiang has been forcing me to practice calligraphy every day, three hundred characters a day. Not only do I have to finish them, but they have to be written neatly. If they're not written well, I can't watch TV. My hand is almost broken from writing so much, and that's how I managed to write like this!"

The old lady also testified: "That's right. Guomin, you don't know, Erpang has suffered a lot these past two weeks. He's been sitting there practicing calligraphy every night and hasn't watched much TV. But you know what, Ji Qiang is really good at it. Erpang's calligraphy has improved a lot."

Cui Guomin, however, felt that the old lady was protecting Erpang. He pointed to the words on the homework and said, "Mom, I remember Ji Qiang has only been living here for a little over half a month, right? In just over half a month, his handwriting has gone from 'spider crawling' to this level? Look at these characters, this structure, these strokes, is this something a primary school student could practice in half a month?"

It wasn't that he didn't believe it, but the progress was simply too exaggerated. He had practiced calligraphy himself and knew how difficult it was to write well. He had seen Erpang's handwriting before—crooked, uneven in size, and sometimes even the stroke order was wrong. How could he write like this in just half a month? Unless it was someone else writing it.

"If you don't believe me, I'll write it down for you." Seeing that reasoning with him wouldn't work, Erpang could only prove his innocence by taking out a pencil and draft paper from his schoolbag and walking to the stone table in the yard: "Uncle, you watch, I'll write it down for you."

Cui Guomin followed along with some skepticism. The old lady also curiously came closer.

Erpang sat down on the stone bench, spread out his draft paper, and picked up a pencil. He took a deep breath and began to write. The first character was "永" (yong) – this was the character Ji Qiang had him practice the most, saying that the "Eight Principles of Yong" contained the most basic strokes of Chinese characters.

Horizontal stroke, vertical stroke, left-falling stroke, right-falling stroke, dot, rising stroke, hook, and turn.

Each stroke was deliberate and precise, though the speed was slow. The characters were neat and well-structured. Although they still showed signs of immaturity, they were already quite presentable, resembling the handwriting on a workbook.

Cui Guomin's eyes widened. He looked at the words Erpang was writing, then at the words in the homework book, comparing them several times.

No way... How could this be?

“You…you write a few more.” Cui Guomin’s voice was a little hoarse.

Erpang also wrote the characters "sky," "earth," "human," and "harmony," each one written quite well. Although it doesn't yet reach the level of calligraphy, it's definitely one of the best among elementary school students.

Cui Guomin was still not giving up. He took Erpang's homework and flipped to an earlier page—it was homework from half a month ago, the handwriting so messy it was almost illegible. He compared the two sets of homework side by side, and the difference was so great that it was as if they were written by two different people.

"See, I told you Erpang's handwriting has improved a lot." The old lady glared at her son reproachfully, "And you, without even asking what happened, want to hit the child. What if you scare him?"

Cui Guomin was speechless for a moment. He then took out another class assignment—one that had just been handed in today, with handwriting that had reverted to its previous sloppy state: "Then tell me, why is the handwriting on this so sloppy again?"

Erpang shrank his neck and whispered, "Ji Qiang doesn't check classwork anyway, so it's okay if it's messy... as long as the teacher can understand it."

Cui Guomin was completely exasperated. It turned out it was all a misunderstanding. Erpang hadn't hired someone to do his homework; his handwriting had genuinely improved under Ji Qiang's guidance. It's just that the kid was lazy; he only did his homework properly at home, and his true colors were revealed at school.

"Just because you can't teach doesn't mean others can't." The old lady was still complaining to her son: "I think Ji Qiang is smarter than you. He knows how to teach children, he has methods, and he's patient. He's better than you."

Cui Guomin was speechless for a moment. Indeed, he had taught Erpang to write, but he lost patience after two days and felt that the child was too stupid and not cut out for learning at all.

Just then, Cui Meng, who was waiting impatiently outside the courtyard, called out, "Dad! Are you done yet? I still need to go back and do my homework!"

Cui Guomin felt like he'd been granted a pardon and quickly seized the opportunity to slip away: "Coming, coming! Mom, Erpang, I'm going home now. Erpang, from now on, you're not allowed to be sloppy with your classwork, understand?"

"Okay, Uncle," Erpang muttered.

After returning home, Cui Guomin first measured his daughter's height, then drew a line ten centimeters above it: "When you grow this tall, Dad will buy you a Xiali car."

Cui Meng's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"Really. When has Dad ever lied to you?" Choi Kookmin said confidently.

Only then did Cui Meng return to her room to do her homework, satisfied. Li Xiaozhen came out of the kitchen and overheard the father and daughter's conversation, unable to help but roll her eyes: "You really dare to say that. Do you know how much savings we have right now?"

"How much?" Cui Guomin really didn't know, as Li Xiaozhen managed all the money in the family.

“More than fifty thousand, less than sixty thousand.” Li Xiaozhen lowered her voice: “This is after we’ve saved up for more than ten years by living frugally.”

Cui Guomin awkwardly scratched his nose: "How much does the Xiali car cost?"

"118,000!" Li Xiaozhen glared at her husband.

Cui Guomin was momentarily speechless. Indeed, the difference was quite significant. But his mind worked quickly, and he immediately thought of something else: "Isn't the karaoke competition about to start? The champion's prize is 30,000, so we'll be less than 30,000 short. Let me think of another way; maybe we can really make it work."

"You really have wild ideas." Li Xiaozhen looked at her unreliable husband, speechless. "You haven't even passed the preliminary rounds, and you're already thinking about how to spend the prize money. Do you know how many people signed up? I heard there are several thousand in the whole city. You'll be lucky if you make it into the top 100."

"Don't worry." Cui Guomin patted his chest, full of confidence: "There's nothing in this world that your husband can't do, only things he doesn't want to do. Singing is a piece of cake."

Li Xiaozhen looked at her overconfident husband and shook her head helplessly. Her husband, though tall and strong and in his thirties, was actually like a child, always acting on a whim. However… she had to admit that Cui Guomin was indeed talented. Singing, dancing, playing musical instruments—he excelled at everything. If it weren't for Old Master Cui's firm opposition, he might have truly pursued a career in the arts.

"Fine, fine, you're amazing." Li Xiaozhen was too lazy to argue with him: "Go wash your hands first, we're going to eat."

……

A week later, the preliminary rounds of the karaoke competition officially began.

The preliminary selection was held in the auditorium of the Municipal Workers' Cultural Palace. By eight o'clock in the morning, a long queue had already formed at the entrance of the Cultural Palace. There were men and women, young and old, participating in the preliminary selection, dressed in all sorts of ways—there were young girls in fashionable dresses, middle-aged men in suits and ties, and even a few elderly men and women with white hair, who said they were just there to "join in the fun."

Qin Hao arrived a little late, queued up and got a number—158. He pinned the number to his chest and walked into the auditorium. The auditorium was already full, the buzzing of voices like a swarm of bees. A red banner hung above the stage: "Citywide Karaoke Grand Prix Preliminary Auditions." Three tables were set up below the stage, behind which sat three judges—two men and one woman, all "celebrities" in the local arts and culture scene.

The auditions began. Contestants went on stage in numerical order, each singing a short verse, no more than one minute long. If the judges didn't think it was good enough, they would ring a bell to stop them; if they thought it was acceptable, they would listen to the whole thing and then raise their placards—a red card meant they passed, a green card meant they were eliminated.

The first few dozen contestants varied greatly in skill level. Most were clearly performing on stage for the first time, their voices trembling with nervousness, and singing off-key or forgetting their lines was commonplace. Some even froze on stage, unable to utter a word for a long time. The judges shook their heads in dismay, their hands aching from pressing the buzzer.

Qin Hao sat calmly in the back row of the audience. Next to him sat Cui Guomin, number 153; the two were very close.

"Ji Qiang, are you nervous?" Cui Guomin asked. He himself wasn't nervous at all, and even crossed his legs, looking quite relaxed.

"It's alright," Qin Hao said honestly. He wasn't nervous at all; compared to what he had experienced before, this was nothing.

Cui Guomin patted him on the shoulder: "Don't be afraid. Don't be nervous when you go up. As long as you don't sing off-key, you'll advance. I think eight out of ten of the people ahead of us sing off-key. As long as we perform normally, we'll definitely pass."

Qin Hao smiled but didn't say anything.

More than an hour later, it was finally Choi Kookmin's turn. The host announced: "Contestant number 153, Choi Kookmin."

Choi Kookmin straightened his clothes—he had specially worn a white shirt with a gray suit jacket over it today, and his hair was slicked back. He walked onto the stage, took the microphone, and bowed slightly to the judges' panel.

The music began, the accompaniment to Xu Xiaofeng's "The Season of the Wind." Cui Guomin took a deep breath and began to sing:
"A cool breeze gently blows, quietly slipping into my clothes; summer steals away without a sound..."

His Cantonese pronunciation wasn't standard, with a noticeable Northeastern accent, but he sang with great emotion and a loud voice. What was even more remarkable was that he wasn't nervous at all; he stood relaxed on stage, occasionally making gestures and exchanging glances with the judges.

The previous dozens of contestants were all wailing and howling, but when they suddenly heard one singer who sang reasonably well, the three judges' eyes lit up. The female judge even nodded slightly in rhythm with the music.

After finishing his song, Cui Guomin bowed and left the stage. The three judges exchanged glances, then simultaneously raised their placards—two red cards and one green card, meaning he had successfully advanced!

A round of applause erupted from the audience. As Cui Guomin stepped off the stage, his chin was held high, a "I knew this would happen" expression on his face. Returning to his seat, he said to Qin Hao, "See, easy, right? Don't be nervous, just sing normally."

Qin Hao nodded: "Congratulations, Brother Cui."

"Next up, contestant number 158, Ji Qiang, his song is 'Who Understands the Heart of a Prodigal Son'." The host's voice came through.

Qin Hao stood up and walked towards the stage. Cui Guomin cheered him on from behind: "Go for it!"

Stepping onto the stage, Qin Hao took the microphone. He was dressed simply today, in a plain white shirt and black trousers, but they were very clean, making him look neat and tidy. The judges glanced up at him, then looked down at the documents in their hands.

"Another one jumping on the bandwagon and singing Cantonese songs," the male judge muttered under his breath.

"Of all the contestants today, I guess only Cui Guomin's Cantonese song had any merit," the female judge chimed in.

They didn't have high expectations for Qin Hao. There were quite a few contestants singing Cantonese songs before him, but most of them just learned a few pronunciations by rote and sang in a strange tone.

Qin Hao nodded to the sound engineer, indicating that they could begin.

The intro began with Wang Jie's "Who Understands the Heart of a Prodigal Son." Qin Hao closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his entire aura had changed.

"If I can laugh, I won't cry."

When you find a soulmate, you'll never be lonely.

But I never met him.
"How can the trials and tribulations of my footprints ever end..."

As soon as he opened his mouth, all three judges looked up at the same time, their eyes widening in surprise.

That voice...that pronunciation...that emotion...

His standard Cantonese pronunciation, deep and magnetic voice, and that profound sense of vicissitude and melancholy were like a completely different person! No, it was like the original singer standing on stage!

Cui Guomin, sitting in the audience, was stunned. His mouth was agape, his eyes were wide open, and he almost dropped the water bottle in his hand.

This...this is Ji Qiang? The homeless man who went mad for ten years?

The other person's Cantonese pronunciation was several levels above his. Their singing skills were incomparable—steady breath control, accurate pitch, and perfect emotion. That melancholic, weathered feeling was something he couldn't even come close to.

What's even more striking is Qin Hao's composed and unhurried aura on stage. He doesn't seem to be participating in a competition at all; it's more like he's giving a solo concert, with the entire stage belonging to him.

I've heard that ideal love is never a thing.

I care not to traverse a thousand mountains
We must also try to capture it…

During the chorus, Qin Hao's voice suddenly soared, bursting with emotion, yet remaining perfectly controlled. Some audience members had already begun humming along.

On the judging panel, the three judges sat up straight, listening intently. The female judge even took off her glasses and wiped her eyes—she was moved by the singing.

After finishing his song, Qin Hao bowed. The audience was silent for a few seconds, then erupted in enthusiastic applause.

The three judges looked at each other and almost simultaneously raised their placards—three red cards, a unanimous pass!

Qin Hao stepped off the stage and returned to his seat. Cui Guomin looked at him, hesitant to speak, and after a long pause, finally managed to utter, "Ji Qiang, where did you learn that Cantonese song from?"

"Oh, I heard it the other day when I passed by the music store. I thought it sounded pretty good, so I wrote it down," Qin Hao said casually.

Cui Guomin stared wide-eyed in disbelief: "You only listened to it once, and you can sing it like this in Cantonese?"

"This doesn't seem too difficult, right?" Qin Hao thought for a moment. "I used to be quite good at Russian, and I often got full marks on tests."

Choi Kookmin suffered another blow. He had always considered himself a genius, able to learn anything quickly, but if the other party wasn't exaggerating, then he was truly no match for him.

He himself had studied Russian, so he naturally knew how difficult it was to learn. Among European and American languages, Russian is one of the most difficult, with its peculiar pronunciation, complex grammar, and six cases, making conjugation dizzying. Anyone who can master Russian is definitely a linguistic genius.

For the first time, Cui Guomin felt a deep sense of defeat. He had originally thought that winning the karaoke competition was a sure thing. But now, after seeing Qin Hao's performance, he suddenly felt... that the 30,000 yuan prize seemed to be getting further and further away from him.

After saying goodbye to Qin Hao, Cui Guomin rode his bicycle home, looking dejected.

Seeing that he was in low spirits, Li Xiaozhen thought he had been eliminated in the preliminary rounds, and she felt relieved.

"It's better that you were laid off," Li Xiaozhen said while serving rice. "Your factory has a new director, and it's not good for you to skip work all the time. Besides, singing can't put food on the table; we still need to rely on proper jobs..."

"Who told you I was eliminated?" Choi Kookmin asked helplessly. "I advanced."

"Then why do you look like that?" Li Xiaozhen asked, puzzled. "Shouldn't you be happy to have advanced?"

In front of his wife, Choi Kookmin would naturally not admit that he had been attacked by someone, especially someone who had been mentally unstable for ten years and had just regained consciousness. Wouldn't that shatter his "genius" persona?
"It's nothing, I'm just a little tired," Cui Guomin said perfunctorily. "By the way, Ji Qiang also advanced, and he sang... pretty well."

"Ji Qiang?" Li Xiaozhen was even more surprised: "He can really sing?"

"He can do more than just sing..." Cui Guomin muttered, not finishing his sentence. He took a couple of bites of rice, then suddenly thought of something and comforted himself, "Oh well, even if I don't get the 30,000 for the championship, 20,000 for the runner-up is not bad."

Li Xiaozhen was baffled: "What champion and runner-up?"

"You'll see when you watch TV," Cui Guomin said vaguely. He didn't want to explain further; the more he explained, the more insecure he seemed.

However, to Cui Guomin's surprise, Qin Hao's performance in the following matches was more and more amazing.

In the semi-finals, Qin Hao sang "Goodbye Kiss," once again stunning the audience and securing his place in the finals.

The finals had finally arrived. The city television station's studio was packed with audience members, cameras pointed at the stage. Ten contestants had made it to the finals, including Cui Guomin, who had barely squeezed into the round of 16, ranking seventh.

It was Qin Hao's turn to perform. He was the last to go on stage; the performances of the previous nine contestants had already brought the atmosphere to a climax.

The host announced: "The last contestant, number 158, Ji Qiang. His first song is a self-selected piece, titled... 'Wild Wolf Disco'? It's an original song."

The audience below the stage were buzzing with discussion.

"Wild Wolf Disco"? That's a weird name. An original song? Singing an original song in the finals is very risky.

The judges whispered among themselves. Original songs haven't been tested by the market, so it's hard to judge their quality. And this song title… it doesn't sound like it could win a championship.

Sitting in the contestant's seat, Cui Guomin secretly breathed a sigh of relief. An original song? Ji Qiang was courting disaster. Singing an original song in such an important competition—if it didn't sound good, all the popularity he had built up would be ruined.

The music is ringing.

It's not a gentle intro, nor a lyrical melody, but a powerful, rhythmic electronic piece with a distinct disco style.

Qin Hao stood on the stage, microphone in hand, then suddenly grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. He then began to sing:
"The flower in my heart, I want to take you home, to that late-night bar, where I don't care if it's real or fake..."

The lyrics are simple and straightforward, with a strong rhythm and a catchy melody. What's even more amazing is that Qin Hao danced on stage—not a professional dance, just the kind of casual, rhythmic swaying movements, but incredibly captivating.

The audience was stunned, then someone started clapping to the rhythm, and more and more people joined in. When Qin Hao sang the chorus:

"Come on, draw a dragon with me on the left, and a rainbow on your right. Come on, draw a rainbow with me on the left, and then draw a dragon on your right..."

The entire audience stood up and joined in, "drawing dragons" and "drawing rainbows" to the rhythm. The studio transformed into a disco, the atmosphere was incredibly energetic.

The judges stared in disbelief at the scene. The female judge couldn't help but sway her body, and the male judges clapped along.

This song is so catchy! It's simple, straightforward, and joyful, making you want to dance along.

After the song ended, the entire audience erupted in applause, whistles, and cheers.

The result was no surprise. Qin Hao won the championship with an absolute advantage.

When the host announced that the champion was "Ji Qiang, No. 158," thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Qin Hao walked onto the stage, accepted the trophy and a cash check for 30000 yuan—the check was made into a huge sign that read "30,000 yuan," gleaming under the lights.

Although Choi Min-gum won the runner-up, he felt a mix of emotions, experiencing for the first time in his life living in someone else's shadow.

This feeling is absolutely awful. (End of Chapter)