Chapter 129: The Petition of the American Audience (Fourth Update)

The applause at the venue lasted for a very long time.

Yet, Li Lekang’s performance had no traditional curtain call. He arrived enveloped in smoke and vanished into smoke, as if gifting the audience a surreal, fantastical dream.

When the dream ended, its contours faded beyond reach. The audience waited in vain for Li Lekang’s return to the stage; the show concluded with a lingering sense of incompletion.

It was both poignant and evocative.

Many rated this performance extraordinarily high—undeniably a masterpiece worthy of the grandest theaters.

It was, without question, fit to be staged at the National Grand Theater, presented to distinguished guests from home and abroad in the most elegant setting—this was the consensus of many.

Because to fuse traditional Chinese art and mythological tales on stage, and to do so with such breathtaking beauty, Li Lekang stood alone in the world.

The professionals observing on site, including leaders invited from the National Song and Dance Troupe, were unanimously impressed, declaring it unprecedented. They even began to entertain ideas of collaborating more extensively with Li Lekang.

Though this would be challenging, for a master who lacked no wealth and sought above all the amazement of art and audience, repetition was distasteful—only the unexpected fascinated him.

Li Lekang’s omission of the curtain call reflected this mindset. He retreated backstage to rest, serenely enjoying his beautiful assistant’s shoulder massage and the refreshments she offered—completely at ease.

Meanwhile, the audience waited anxiously for over ten minutes. It was only when the head of security stepped forward to declare there would be no encore, that the crowd finally dispersed.

Though reluctant to leave, dreams must end. Many carried with them a deep aftertaste, discussing the brilliance they had witnessed, marveling at the resonance and wonder of it all.

And of course, they did not forget to praise Li Lekang’s extraordinary talent. Some hurried to search for future performances—but found nothing.

At present, Li Lekang had no plans for another show, confident that this singular act alone would continue to astonish audiences for a long time.

That very evening, as the audience returned home, online commentary about the performance exploded.

Countless viewers awarded perfect scores, and fans spontaneously lavished praise.

Especially knowing such a show might never be seen again, the on-site attendees began to summon their literary flair, composing lengthy, eloquent descriptions of the dreamlike scenes they had witnessed.

Reviews quickly became a form of social capital—a badge of honor for those who had purchased the expensive tickets, proud that it was the best decision they had made.

“Honestly, I hesitated about the ticket price before buying, but after seeing it, I realized money can always be earned again—missing such brilliance is a once-in-a-lifetime regret!”

“This is a truly grand performance. Before this, I thought magic was a bit of a cheap trick, unworthy of prestigious venues. Now I have to eat my words—I was so wrong!”

“At first, when foreign media hailed Li Lekang as a god, I was skeptical. But after experiencing it tonight, I must apologize for my narrow view!”

Such comments quickly went viral across the internet.

Douban’s rating soared to 9.8!

Some even wondered if paid shills were boosting the score.

But many of the reviewers were well-known critics, unafraid to be harsh when warranted.

And since Li Lekang had no plans for follow-up shows, the chances of another “Feitian” performance were slim.

The harshest critics were those who, upon the release of the “Feitian” video, rushed to deride it as the work of a talentless has-been.

Fans who had seen the show could now boldly name these detractors and challenge them to explain how Li Lekang flawlessly recreated the spectacle live on stage.

Of course, these critics disappeared into silence—perhaps to reemerge later once their embarrassment was forgotten.

But for now, following this iconic performance, Li Lekang was the undisputed king of magic.

“Great magician?” Perhaps calling him a great artist would be more fitting.

Chinese media lavished praise, airing midday news segments with interviews of the attending dignitaries, all extolling Li Lekang’s professional acclaim.

Because Li Lekang truly reached a new pinnacle in artistic performance, delivering cultural artistry in a non-special-effects form that etched itself deeply in everyone’s mind—this was an unparalleled promotional achievement.

News of this triumph quickly crossed the ocean to the United States.

As a magician who had made his name there, Li Lekang’s popularity in America was soaring. Learning that his performance in China was a monumental masterpiece, excitement—and anxiety—spread.

Regret filled those unable to attend, those who hadn’t made time, and those who found the limited showings insufficient.

Most importantly, there was no news of Li Lekang performing again in the U.S.

This was maddening!

Fans spontaneously organized a petition campaign, hoping to persuade Li Lekang to bring the show, already exalted by Chinese audiences, to American soil.

Organizers promised that if they reached 100,000 signatures, they would secure sponsorship funding to form lobbying teams to influence Li Lekang’s management and realize the wish.

From zero to 100,000 signatures took only half a day!

And the numbers showed no sign of stopping.

As the petition’s popularity spread, more and more people joined.

Funds for lobbying arrived swiftly. The organizers then announced a major incentive: everyone who signed would have a chance to win tickets.

This tactic attracted even more participants—after all, signing was free, and entering the lottery meant watching a few ads to support the sponsors.

What if it worked? What if they actually won tickets?

One must admit, Americans possess a kind of mystical, inexplicable confidence.

Soon, signatures surpassed one million, swelling ever higher.

Even Li Lekang, still busy with his events in China, learned of his fans’ fervor.

Judy discussed it with him: “Actually, adding a few more shows would be perfect—it would let more people witness Chinese art.”

“Let me check my schedule first,” Li Lekang said cautiously. “If we do this, we’ll need the dance troupe’s support.”

“The leadership there already called me,” Judy added, “They said they’re ready to support you anytime, even provide sponsorship.”

“Wow!” Li Lekang marveled.

They were incredibly efficient.

All obstacles had been cleared—it was just waiting for Li Lekang’s approval to bring the show to North America for one or two performances to satisfy the audience’s appetite.

If the motive was money, Li Lekang had no need to do it. But to spread artistic culture, especially his unique blend of art and magic, he was interested.

“Though lately, it might be hard to arrange.”

“I’ll help you organize the schedule,” Judy assured him.

Afterwards, Li Lekang’s official account responded to the petition.

He first thanked everyone for their love, then stated that, when time permitted, he would add more shows in North America, with further announcements to follow.

The news was immediately shared widely, with media outlets joining in. While they had not witnessed the live performance, the “Feitian” video clips were public.

If a stage show could possess such visual genius on video, it was unquestionably a life-defining spectacle... and with Chinese audiences already raving, anticipation only grew.

PS: The fourth update is here—please keep the votes and subscriptions coming!