Chapter Fourteen: Where There Are People, There Is a World of Rivers and Lakes

Night had fallen, and the city lights had just begun to glow. Lin Qihua arrived at the bar before business started, unwilling to wait for the doors to open. Tonight he would perform solo, and he needed to prepare himself.

In the lounge beside the stage, the central hall was furnished with sofas, a television, instruments, and all manner of drinks. Three smaller rooms branched off, and the sounds of various instruments drifted out—bands practicing, no doubt.

Ah Hui sat alone on a sofa, sipping beer. When he saw Lin Qihua enter, he stood up to greet him. “You’re here?”

“Yes, are you drinking?” Lin Qihua asked, surprised.

Ah Hui understood the source of Lin Qihua’s surprise. To him, Lin Qihua was a newcomer to the scene—a rookie with undeniable talent and skill, yet no experience. But after witnessing Lin Qihua’s abilities that afternoon, he had begun to accept him, and didn’t mind the question. He laughed heartily as he explained, “You’re applying the rules from the big companies to us, aren’t you? That doesn’t work here. To be honest, most of us have given up on the idea of ever making it to the big stage. Protecting our voices isn’t a necessity. On the contrary, a drink or two makes singing wilder and more uninhibited.”

He spoke lightly, but Lin Qihua caught a flicker of sadness in his eyes—a fleeting shadow of regret and grief, perhaps meant to mask the helplessness in his heart. No one wanted to stay in a place like this forever. Musicians lived on dreams; once that motivation was gone, who could endure the long-term oppression and upside-down life?

“Enough about that,” Ah Hui said, quickly pulling himself together. He silently mocked himself: Hadn’t he promised not to dwell on these things? Why had he slipped up? Maybe this young man before him was simply too striking—full of energy, confidence, sunshine, and a clear vision for the future, so different from himself and his peers. He hoped Lin Qihua could hold onto that spirit for as long as possible.

He led Lin Qihua into the room on the far right. As he pushed open the door, drums and guitars flooded the air. Three people were immersed in practice; only when they noticed the newcomers did they pause.

“No introductions needed, right?” Ah Hui smiled at the three. “This is our rehearsal room, reserved for us. Our band is called Hellfire—that name reflects our style: wild and blazing, just like Nana’s figure.”

“You’re impossible.” A drumstick flew from Nana’s hand, brushing past the two men and thudding against the wall. “Show me some respect in front of the newcomer.” Tonight, Nana wore a black short-sleeved, midriff-baring T-shirt, heavy smoky eye makeup, oversized earrings dangling from her ears, and her purple hair shimmered seductively under the lights. Her explosive figure was just as Ah Hui had said—wild and untamed.

“See what I mean?” Ah Hui and Lin Qihua exchanged a knowing glance.

“Your set follows ours tonight. When we finish, we’ll introduce you to the audience, then you’ll take the stage. After that, it’s all on you. Starting tomorrow, we’ll rehearse in the afternoon. The three bands rotate on stage, each playing for half an hour, with a ten-minute break in between. That means a forty-minute cycle. From eight in the evening to two in the morning—six hours, nine rounds. Each band performs three times, though that can change if customers request encores. That’s the basic rotation.” Ah Hui gave a detailed overview. “We’re Hellfire, the wild ones. The other two bands—one’s seductive, the other leans toward blues and jazz. Each has its own style. We complement and compete with each other.”

“I understand,” Lin Qihua replied, grasping the general arrangement. If all three bands shared the same style, there’d be no need for three—one would suffice. The differing styles, swapped through rotation, gave customers variety and freshness. Clearly, this bar was unlike others.

“Let’s go meet the other bands—but brace yourself, they’re not exactly well-mannered. Some of what they say might be unpleasant. Don’t take it to heart,” Ah Hui said with a smile.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They came to the second room and pushed open the door. Five people lounged inside, chatting and laughing.

“Hey, Hui,” a sharp-faced young man greeted them with a mocking grin. “Who’s this?”

“Yang, this is our new lead singer, Huazi,” Ah Hui replied with a stern face, his tone chilly—a sign that their relationship was less than cordial. “Huazi, this is the bar’s ‘Rose’ band.”

“Hello,” Lin Qihua greeted them in a low voice.

“Oh, Hui, did you lose your mind?” Yang cackled. “The old lead singer at least looked like he belonged—drinking, singing, messing with women until he got cracked over the head. Now you’ve got a pretty boy? Changing up the flavor, huh?”

“Watch your mouth,” Ah Hui snapped, displeased. “We’re here to say hello, not to hear your commentary.”

“Yang, move aside,” came a strange, alluring female voice from behind him. Yang quickly stepped aside, revealing a woman seated in the center. Her posture was languid, her hair a tousled wave, her tight leather skirt accentuating her figure—she radiated unique charm.

“Hui,” she said, lips slightly parted, “we know why you’re here. We’re all part of the bar, and we hope your band regains its strength. Otherwise, we’ll have to take on more hours, and it’s exhausting. You know that, right?”

“Sister Yu,” Ah Hui’s expression shifted. “I admit my skills have been lacking, but Huazi isn’t as weak as you think. We don’t need your help, though we appreciate the offer.”

Sister Yu laughed softly, her voice magnetic. “Here, it’s all about real ability. It’s not up to you—it depends on whether the customers pay for it. Since you talked big, we’ll wait and see. Of course, we’re rehearsing extra sets, ready to bail you out anytime.”

“You—” Ah Hui’s eyes flashed with anger.

Lin Qihua stopped him, smiling at Sister Yu and her band. “Hellfire’s performance will speak for itself. I look forward to seeing your show as well. Good luck tonight.”

“This kid knows how to talk,” Yang snickered.

“Actually, we’ll be rehearsing extra sets starting tomorrow too. Who knows when you’ll need us to save the day, right?” Lin Qihua said lightly.

“We’ll see about that,” Yang replied, his smile vanishing as he glared.

“Let’s go,” Lin Qihua pulled Ah Hui away, musing inwardly that wherever people gather, there’s rivalry. Where there’s profit, there’s competition. Here, they fought for the customers’ approval and popularity, for the bar’s bonus—a real and tangible benefit. No wonder Ah Hui’s expression soured, unable to refute the mockery. The frustration was inevitable.

In the third room was the “Standard” band. The lead singer, a burly middle-aged man, greeted them with warmth and hearty laughter. Lin Qihua could hardly imagine their style was blues and rap; in fact, the “Rose” band next door seemed more fitting for that genre. The contrast was striking—rough men spinning blues and jazz on stage. Lin Qihua found the disparity amusing.

Back in the lounge, the other three members, hearing of the slight received in the other bands, were furious. Nana, fiery as ever, waved her arms, “I’ve had it with that witch. She needs a lesson.”

“What are you saying? What kind of bar is this? Are we gangsters?” Ah Hui rebuked. “Skill is what matters. Whoever’s best gets to speak. If you’re thinking about fighting, you’ll just be laughed at.”

“We can’t let them mock us, can we?” Nana fumed.

“Let them laugh, it doesn’t matter. What we need to do is rehearse and perform well,” Lin Qihua said with a smile. “If we outshine them and steal their stage time, then the real winner will be clear.”

“Huazi’s right,” Ah Hui agreed. “Tonight, stay sharp and don’t embarrass us. Tomorrow, come early—we need to rehearse properly.”

“Alright,” the three replied.

After this moment of shared indignation, the five gradually grew familiar with one another, finally feeling like teammates. Perhaps this was Ah Hui’s real reason for introducing Lin Qihua to the other bands. A band’s need for a strong lead singer is intense—only with a powerful vocalist can they compete. To quickly unite everyone under one goal was practical. Lin Qihua hadn’t expected this little ploy; if he guessed right, the previous lead singer likely hadn’t held as much authority as Ah Hui—Ah Hui was the real soul and leader of the band.

As the four began practicing, Lin Qihua slipped out of the hall and found a quiet corner to rehearse alone. The day’s experiences replayed in his mind, opening a new world to him and deepening his understanding of the songs he had prepared. His fingers grew more skilled with each note. Tonight was his debut—a small stage, but his heart brimmed with anticipation and excitement. His mother had always told him: Respect the stage, no matter how small. A small stage holds a big world, for every move is watched by countless eyes, every sound leaves your lips and enters their ears, drifting gently or sinking deep into their souls. Whether you touch the depths of their spirit depends on your own effort.

To sound pleasant is always the bare minimum for a singer.