Chapter Nineteen: Fire, the Unbridled Blaze

After dinner, the bar was already bustling with activity. Lin Qihua went to find the bar’s lighting technician.

“You want to use the stage effects?” The lighting technician, a middle-aged man, found Lin Qihua’s request easy. He pointed outside from his workstation, “Finally, someone wants to use these effects. Those amateur bands, what a waste—they never make use of the equipment we have.”

He grew excited, “When the boss renovated the place, he spent a fortune on a stage with visual effects, hoping it would showcase performances better. But none of the bands ever thought to use it. In the end, it’s only been used for the occasional holiday decoration.”

Lin Qihua didn’t understand his excitement, but as long as it meant he could use the effects, that was enough. On the big stage, effects were essential these days. The displays could be dazzling, especially now that holographic projection technology was common. With every superstar concert, the creativity and spectacle only grew, turning each event into a feast for the senses.

After thinking for a few minutes, the lighting technician assured Lin Qihua that his requirements were easily met, especially since the request wasn’t complicated. He patted his chest and promised Lin Qihua a spectacular scene.

With this problem solved, Lin Qihua went with Sister Mei to the storeroom. It was packed with props and costumes, all neatly organized without a hint of disorder. This spoke volumes about the bar owner's management style, making Lin Qihua even more curious. Most owners wouldn’t invest so much in a stage, and prop rooms were usually a mess. Here, everything was a pleasant surprise.

After searching through the props, Lin Qihua finally found what he needed for the performance. Sister Mei looked at what he was carrying, surprised. “Is this really what you want?”

“It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do.” Determined to make Hellfire’s debut unforgettable, Lin Qihua felt that no amount of preparation would ever be too much. Just thinking about the song filled him with excitement and the desire to make the effect even more stunning.

“If there’s ever a chance, I want to perform this song on a grand stage, to feel the thunderous applause.” Lin Qihua thought to himself.

Everything was ready. Now all that was left was to wait for tonight’s opening performance.

At eight o’clock sharp, the bar opened. After a long day, people flocked in, more numerous and earlier than usual. Typically, the bar wouldn’t be full until nine or ten, but tonight, just after eight, nearly every seat was taken.

On the second floor, a table that usually bore a reserved sign was cleared. Sister Mei personally led a woman to the table. It was set apart from the others, offering both privacy and an excellent view of the stage—a prime spot.

The woman wore a long black dress that concealed her striking figure. Her exquisite features, half-hidden in the backlight, radiated an irresistible allure. She sat quietly while Sister Mei poured her a glass of red wine.

“It’s surprisingly crowded tonight,” the woman said softly. Her voice, slightly husky, had a gentle, lingering charm.

“Maybe everyone’s looking forward to Hellfire’s return,” Sister Mei replied while pouring the wine. “I saw a few famous band leads here. Looks like word from last night spread, and they couldn’t resist coming to see just who this newcomer is.”

“Dongzi did recommend a talented singer to us. What a pity,” the woman mused.

Sister Mei didn’t know who she meant by ‘pity’, so she didn’t pursue it. “I’ll get back to work.”

“Go ahead,” the woman said, waving her hand and taking a delicate sip of wine, anticipation flickering in her eyes.

At eight-thirty, the lights went out. The stage stirred.

A clear sound of camel bells rang out, soon joined by a chant reminiscent of Buddhist hymns, instantly quieting the crowd, who savored the heavy, immersive atmosphere.

A high-pitched electric guitar soared, and a sense of grandeur washed over everyone. Ten seconds, twenty—the music grew ever more intense. With a guitar solo lasting over forty seconds, a point of fiery red light appeared at the back of the stage, slowly spreading across it, then quickly along the walls to engulf the entire bar in flames. In an instant, it felt as if the whole place was ablaze.

The stage lights came up, revealing five figures, prompting gasps throughout the room—they were all wearing masks.

“Interesting. I’d like to see what trick they have up their sleeves.” The woman smiled faintly.

“This opening feels like a big-stage production,” He Yanlin remarked. She and her friends had come as promised, all eager for Hellfire’s performance.

“Impressive, but let’s see if they can pull it off. In our circle, it’s all about the vocals,” a few special guests commented with a laugh.

“If they dare put on a show like this, they must be confident,” someone nearby replied.

“Let’s see, then.”

As Ahui and Lin Qihua’s fierce guitar solo ended, the other instruments joined in. Lin Qihua lifted his mask halfway, grabbed the mic stand, and began to sing:

“Chrysanthemum, ancient sword, and wine
Soaked in coffee’s clamor in a teahouse
Foreigners worship ancient moons at the Temple of the Sun
The glorious era of Kaiyuan inspires longing”

The unique lyrics and vocal style made some people leap to their feet.

“This voice—unbelievable.”

“So distinctive and grand—it makes you long for more.” The woman set down her wine, closed her eyes, and tapped a gentle rhythm on the table with her fingers.

“The wind cannot scatter eternal sorrow
Flowers cannot dye homesickness
Snow cannot reflect the land and rivers
The moon cannot complete ancient dreams
Following the lines of fate in my palm
Tonight, I wake from wine with no dreams
Following fate into confusion
In my dreams, I return to the Tang dynasty”

The soaring voice and Peking opera-inspired singing transported the audience to a fantastical, ever-changing world.

The phrase, “In my dreams, I return to the Tang dynasty,” roared out with such force that the whole room seemed to leap as one. Surrounded by burning flames and electrifying guitar, everyone’s blood was boiling. Arms waved in the air, mouths unleashing wild, wordless shouts.

“Tonight, the cup holds the bright moon
Men plow, women weave, the Silk Road busy
Tonight, the cup holds the bright moon
Riches of earth and gifted people abound
Tonight, the cup holds the bright moon
Scent of ink and poetry fills the rivers
Tonight, the cup holds the bright moon
Heroes’ spirits shine in grandeur

Tonight, the cup cannot reflect the bright moon
Neon lights flicker, songs and dances rise
All because of a tuneless tale
Song and response, but no one feels any loss
Following the lines of fate in my palm
Tonight, I wake from dreams with no wine
Following fate into confusion
In my dreams, I return to the Tang dynasty”

As the song continued, a magnificent, poetic world unfolded before the audience—a vision of the prosperous Han and Tang dynasties, an age of countless heroes. The ever-rising, spiraling vocals left everyone awestruck. No one expected such a powerful voice.

Then, a unique recitative echoed through the bar:

“Remember the days of Kaiyuan’s glory,
When friends across the land were bound as one.
The world was boundless, horizons wide,
Oh, to build a mansion for all!”

Another extended guitar solo followed, the electric waves stirring the listeners’ hearts.

After the interlude, the second half repeated the lyrics but climbed to an even higher key. The screaming vocals exploded like bombs in the audience’s ears, bodies moving uncontrollably, unable to stop even for a moment.

With the final electric guitar notes fading, the song ended at last.

“‘Dream Back to the Tang Dynasty,’ dedicated to all of you. Welcome to Tang Dynasty Bar! Here, there are songs, wine, beauties, and friends who understand you. I hope you all have a wonderful time—thank you!” Lin Qihua gripped the mic stand, addressing the crowd. For a moment, it truly felt like a grand stage—his own stage, surrounded by ecstatic fans. Tonight, this was his domain.

Applause crashed like waves. The audience stood, none willing to sit just yet, their excitement spilling over as they stomped their feet, struggling to vent their exhilaration.

Lin Qihua, breathless and deeply satisfied, marveled at the song’s grandeur and style—majestic, lavish, heroic, infused with the essence of Chinese spirit. It was the most awe-inspiring rock song he had ever encountered. Despite its demanding vocals and technique, he was determined to perform it for everyone. Even in a world linked to another time and space, it would be an extraordinary song, and bringing it to life here was the greatest respect and tribute he could offer to it and its original singer. Of course, forcing his way through the song left his throat battered. For now, he could only apologize to the audience, hand the stage over to the next band, and hurry backstage for a soothing cup of tea.

“What an interesting young man,” the woman upstairs murmured, a smile that could topple empires playing on her lips. “Last night’s ‘Has Anyone Ever Told You’ was light rock, tonight’s ‘Dream Back to the Tang Dynasty’ is heavy metal, a high-note bombardment—and both are originals. He’s really put his heart into this. Not aiming for fame, but for the art. Still, since you wrote such a song just for ‘Tang Dynasty,’ I’ll forgive you.”

“Hua Arts seems to have made a foolish decision,” Li Zixuan concluded after searching for information. “Another new song, and a heavy metal anthem that will set the underground music scene ablaze tonight. He can handle different styles and write such great music—letting him go will make ‘Hua Arts’ regret it in a year.”

“Is it really that serious?” Ying Mei was a little skeptical.