The dark-skinned woman lifted her chin proudly and strode past Li Yang, heading straight onto the stage.
Her companions immediately whistled loudly, cheering her on.
“Come on! Rose!”
“Rose, you’re our Black Rose—defeat this arrogant Eastern woman!”
Chinese girls had been taught from a young age to be graceful and composed; they naturally disliked such crude whistling and rowdy cheering. So even though they didn’t know Li Yang, they quietly rooted for her, hoping she could crush the arrogance of these annoying foreigners.
Seeing Rose’s rather bulky figure, Li Yang guessed she wouldn’t perform a traditional Hindi song with belly dancing…
As expected, the moment Rose stepped on stage, she belted out high-pitched American-style vocals into the microphone.
She chose a fiery English rock song. After just two lines, Li Yang shook her head.
Rose had clearly undergone some training; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to hit such high notes. Though her voice occasionally cracked at the ends of phrases, Li Yang had to admit that this showy technique was enough to impress inexperienced listeners.
Even so, Li Yang wasn’t worried.
Because Rose had overlooked a fatal flaw—she was Indian. Her English carried a heavy accent, and her rapid delivery made it worse.
Combined with the outdated sound equipment of the 1980s, which distorted loud audio, by the end of the song, many in the audience were left with ringing ears and headaches.
The Indian group was still wildly cheering, while the Chinese audience felt as if thousands of ducks were quacking endlessly around their heads.
After finishing, Rose provocatively raised her middle finger at Li Yang.
Li Yang ignored her and casually walked to the microphone.
One dark, one fair. One heavy, one slender. Without a word, the balance in people’s hearts subtly shifted.
Seeing the amazed looks from the audience, Rose snorted and stepped down. These shallow people—this woman’s singing couldn’t possibly match her high notes.
A soft, clear voice spread gently through the microphone, easing the audience’s lingering discomfort.
“I’ll also bring you a classic English song—Yesterday Once More. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
The girls clapped enthusiastically, their palms reddening as they refused to stop.
Li Yang closed her eyes slightly, immersing herself fully.
“When I was young
I’d listen to the radio
Waiting for my favorite songs…”
Her low, magnetic voice instantly captivated the crowd.
The Indians were startled—her singing resembled the Hollywood stars they had heard. For many Chinese listeners, it was their first time hearing such a style, and they found it fascinating.
Her voice was rich with emotion and technique, carrying a natural resonance. Listening to her felt like floating among clouds, as if a soft cloud might drift over and lull you into a peaceful dream.
The entire audience fell silent, savoring every moment.
“Every sha-la-la, every wo-wo
Still shines…
…
It’s yesterday once more…”
Li Yang realized her skills hadn’t faded at all. As the song ended, she stood confidently on stage and declared:
“I win this round.”
“Who’s next?”
Jiang Nianxin hadn’t expected Zhao Guoqiang’s niece to be this talented. She was already tempted to recruit her—but she wondered what other surprises this girl might bring.
Even the Indian group couldn’t blindly support their own anymore. Without accompaniment, the difference in skill was obvious.
Compared to Li Yang, their singer now seemed like a noisy rooster with a broken voice.
After some discussion, they sent up a tall girl in a dress with large eyes.
Others didn’t understand their conversation, but Li Yang caught every word.
Since no one in the Chinese troupe knew ballet, they decided to challenge her with it.
Li Yang’s smile deepened slightly. These people were… straightforward in a rather amusing way.
The tall girl, one of the fairest among them, carried an air of elegance and privilege.
The audience grew nervous for Li Yang. Many had heard of India’s caste system—this girl likely had real skill.
The Indian girl stepped onto the stage, raised her arms, and immediately began dancing.
A turn with sweeping arms, a kick.
Another turn, another kick…
Her movements were graceful and poised.
Meanwhile, Li Yang wore a pink floral shirt, black leggings, and shiny black leather shoes.
At first glance, she seemed bound to lose.
Zhao Guoqiang clenched his fist in frustration—he should have bought her a proper dress.
Standing beside that elegant dancer, his niece looked pitifully plain.
But as the next beat began, Li Yang moved.
Though simply dressed, her technique was even more precise and beautiful.
When the other girl did three spins, Li Yang completed six with perfect posture.
When the girl leapt twice, Li Yang leapt three times—higher, even forming a perfect split midair.
After two minutes, the Indian girl lost confidence.
Unwilling to accept defeat, she glared at Li Yang, then suddenly changed her routine.
She switched to her country’s signature dance—belly dancing.
With arms spread wide, she began shaking her hips rapidly.
The Indian crowd erupted.
“Maria! Maria! Maria!”
As if triggered, more than a dozen of them began twisting and swaying wildly below the stage.
Jiang Nianxin’s face darkened.
Disgusting. Completely inappropriate.
With so many young women present, how could they behave so indecently?
Li Yang hadn’t expected such an outrageous audience either.
So, they wanted to compete in who could dance more passionately?
Fine. She wasn’t afraid.