Chapter Seventeen: Consequences

After Lin Qihua finished his second round of singing, he stood up to return to the lounge. A waiter hurried over and told him that someone had sent him flowers, hoping he could come and sit for a while.

Qihua was momentarily confused; only after the waiter explained what “sending flowers” meant did he understand—it was a term for devoted fans. He looked in the direction indicated and saw a girl with striking features excitedly waving at him. Smiling gently, he followed the waiter to Table 15.

“Thank you for your support,” Qihua said sincerely to the four people at the table. These words came from his heart; he understood well the importance of fans to artists and had always cultivated good relations with them, whether in his previous group or now in the bar.

“Please, have a seat,” Chang Yan said excitedly, making space for him. “I sent the flowers. You sang so beautifully. The others were too shy, but honestly, you made them cry with your singing.”

Qihua sat as she suggested, and glanced at her companions. Chang Yan wore a business outfit with subtle makeup and a simple ponytail, looking youthful and lively. The others were: one with black-rimmed glasses, seeming sharp; another with neat short hair, whose gaze was complex—admiring yet guarded; and the last, dressed in a dark trench coat with wavy hair cascading down her back, radiating intelligence and allure.

“May I buy you a drink?” Chang Yan chattered, while the others remained quiet.

“As a singer, I must protect my voice, so I can’t drink. Thank you for your kindness, though,” Qihua declined politely.

“But other singers drink too,” Chang Yan objected.

Qihua was at a loss for words.

“That’s because others have given up, but he still wants to be a big star, right?” Li Zixuan remarked softly.

“Well, I suppose so,” Qihua didn’t mind the subtle sarcasm in her words. “Anyone who sings longs for the big stage. Even if you’re just a has-been, you can still dream. Who knows, maybe those dreams will come true?”

The four were taken aback by his bold response, left speechless.

“Was the song you sang tonight an original? Your own work?” He Yanlin asked with a smile.

“Yes, I wrote both the lyrics and music,” Qihua nodded, knowing why she asked. “It’s already been submitted for approval and should pass soon. For now, I don’t plan to upload the audio.”

“Why?” Chang Yan was puzzled.

“No time at the moment. Maybe later,” Qihua couldn’t explain his reasoning to her.

“Alright, you’ll be performing with the band tomorrow, right? I think you’re best at singing ballads. Solo performances suit you.”

He chuckled. “The bar hired me as lead singer. If I insisted on soloing, what would the band do? Performing together is more lively and fun.”

After chatting a while longer, Qihua excused himself—Chang Yan’s questions were relentless, and he was starting to feel overwhelmed.

“Lin Qihua, formerly a member of the ‘Heavenly Sound’ group under ‘China Arts’ Company. Half a month ago, for some unknown reason, he was replaced, causing a contract dispute. The official announcement declared the contract terminated, and he cannot sign with another company for a year,” Li Zixuan shared her search findings after Qihua left.

“So that’s why he’s singing at a bar? Poor thing,” Chang Yan’s sympathy overflowed.

“I see. Forced to hide his talents because of certain matters—even though he composed a great song, he only registered the copyright and dared not upload the audio. If it spreads and the company notices, it could hurt him,” He Yanlin analyzed, twirling her glass.

“Regardless, just sticking to his dream and not lowering his standards as a singer despite his setbacks deserves our respect,” Ying Mei suddenly remarked.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Chang Yan slapped the table. “I’m going to be his fan, accompany him as he starts anew from this bar, and cheer him on back to the big stage. I believe someone like him won’t just sink into obscurity.”

For the first time, she saw her three close friends give her a thumbs-up. When she chased after young idols before, they’d always teased her mercilessly.

Qihua, of course, was unaware of what happened after he left. Back in the lounge, he was greeted by the envious gazes and raised thumbs of Ah Hui and the others.

“An overnight sensation,” Liu Xing said with a grin. “I’ve never received flowers before, but you got them on your first night. Impressive.”

“Remarkable,” Haizi said, his words few but his eyes full of admiration.

“If only I could enjoy that kind of applause,” Nana said forlornly. She was the keyboardist, usually a backstage member.

“If we all practice hard, tomorrow our band will enjoy that applause together,” Ah Hui encouraged.

“Nana,” Qihua’s heart stirred. “We could do a duet someday.”

“Really?” Nana’s eyes widened.

“Yes, but you have to promise me something,” Qihua nodded. “You need to change your makeup. I know you’re matching the band’s style, and it’s fine for guitar or bass, but as keyboardist, you don’t need that vibe. Style is sung, not worn. You’re the flower of our band—you should look the part. A simpler look, black hair, a white dress—you’ll catch everyone’s eye. Then someone will send you flowers too.”

“Hmm,” Nana hesitated; she was used to her look and couldn’t imagine herself as Qihua described.

“If you’re willing to try, I’ll compose a song for us to sing together. We’ll perform out front, and you’ll become everyone’s goddess. Trust me, don’t compete with Sister Yu. Her charm is natural, but you have your own uniqueness. Just be yourself—it’s the best.”

“Alright, I’ll give it a try.” The lure of singing center stage was too strong. Nana finally decided, “Tomorrow, I’ll get my hair done. Not sure if I have a dress in my closet.”

“Heavens above,” Liu Xing exclaimed with relief. “We’ll finally see Nana in a dress. ‘Hellfire’ finally has a proper girl.”

“Hey, haven’t I always been a girl?” Nana retorted, kicking at him.

“Hehe.” Liu Xing hid behind Qihua. “Qihua, I really admire you. Nana fears nothing. Once, someone tried to get her drunk and take advantage—she dumped a whole bottle over his head. Everyone’s afraid of her, but with you here, she’s suddenly a lady. Amazing.”

“Alright, enough playing around,” Ah Hui and Qihua pulled the two apart, calming things down so they could resume practice. Even though Qihua didn’t have to sing again tonight, practicing together helped them quickly bond.

Time flew by; at last, the bar’s closing hour arrived. The patrons dispersed, each heading home to sleep, ready to chase life again tomorrow.

Qihua returned to Han Dong’s place, washed up, and began to rest. He had never stayed up late, always keeping regular hours, so tonight’s late sleep felt unusual.

Han Dong usually came home around midnight, so Qihua was alone, reflecting on the events of the night—the rivalry between the three bands, the bar’s unique rules, the excitement of everyone standing during his song, and the conversation with Chang Yan and her friends. So many new experiences, so much gained. Eventually, with these thoughts, he drifted into a deep sleep.

That night, a remarkable singer appeared at the “Tang Dynasty” Bar, inspiring the whole crowd to cheer with a single song—the news spread swiftly through the music circle. Everyone wondered how such a singer had appeared out of nowhere. Though communication was sparse, most people in the scene knew each other, so this sudden emergence was startling.

“Looks like Huzi’s injury turned out to be a blessing for ‘Hellfire’,” many commented. “A good lead singer is half a band—the improvement is huge.”

“I hear tomorrow will be the band’s first real performance. I can’t wait.”

“‘Hellfire’ used to dominate this scene, and after years of quiet, are they finally rising again?”

Meanwhile, in a suburban villa, a glamorous middle-aged woman received a call from her subordinate reporting the news.

“Oh? Dongzi’s junior?” She held a wine glass, crossed her legs, and spoke to her smart terminal. “He’s really talented?”

“Yes,” came Sister Mei’s voice. “I’ve never seen someone make the whole crowd stand and cheer, demanding an encore. According to my search, the song was original—written and composed by Lin Qihua himself, and he confirmed it. The news is spreading fast; everyone’s very interested.”

“Well, you’ve piqued my curiosity,” the woman said, unconcerned about her relaxed pose as she leaned back on the sofa. “I’ll go see for myself tomorrow night, see if this singer can satisfy me. If so, I wouldn’t mind giving Dongzi a bit of face.”

“Understood,” Sister Mei replied respectfully.

“One more thing,” the woman said, “Since he’s attracted attention in the scene, don’t let anyone bully him. No one touches our people.”

“Got it. I’ll make sure,” Sister Mei promised.

“Alright, that’s all.” The woman hung up, walked to the window with her wine glass, gazing out at the deep night. “Lin Qihua—that name sounds familiar. If you have the talent, what harm is there in giving you a chance?”