Chapter 28: An Unexpected Visitor

Han Dong left quietly, giving Lin Qihua no chance to see him off. Perhaps he was keeping his promise by not revealing his whereabouts, or perhaps he simply wished to avoid the melancholy of farewell. After all, leaving this city where he had spent nearly a decade—leaving behind his youth, sweat, tears, and all the emotions he once had—was bound to be difficult. He didn't want Lin Qihua to witness his vulnerability.

So, when Lin Qihua woke up and found Han Dong already gone, all that was left was a note on the table, its calligraphy wild and unrestrained: “I’m off. You have to keep working hard. Maybe one day you’ll become a big star, and when you’re performing in some city, we’ll run into each other again. By then, I’ll have new achievements of my own. Farewell, brother.”

“Farewell, brother,” Lin Qihua murmured.

The storm surrounding Qin Lulu finally subsided, and Lin Qihua resumed his unchanging daily routine: getting up in the morning to exercise and practice his vocals, having lunch, then heading to the bar to rehearse. With each evening’s performance, he could feel his progress—his vocal control and command over the songs had improved immensely. This was thanks to his daily attention to the stage, treating every performance as an opportunity to practice, summarizing each day and identifying his shortcomings. Though it was only a bar, the effect was no less than a small concert. Sticking to this routine, combined with scientific practice methods, meant that in such a period of rapid growth, it would be strange not to improve.

What amazed Lin Qihua even more was that Nana’s progress was just as apparent. She was gradually exhibiting the poise of a true artist, fully capable of commanding the stage. Her presence was growing steadier, and with her natural beauty, she had become one of the bar’s most popular singers. Each night, her performances took up half the show—not only because Lin Qihua intended it, but also because she genuinely possessed the necessary talent. There was no denying it: women, whether on big stages or in bars, are always well-received, and her fanbase was now larger than Lin Qihua’s.

According to Sister Mei, several talent agencies had come to observe Nana’s performances, expressing varying degrees of interest. Maybe it would take time, but Nana’s bright future seemed assured. Given this, Lin Qihua was more than happy to let her have more opportunities, focusing himself on refining his techniques, exploring more effective ways of singing, and trying new approaches—especially techniques from the “Standard” band, which he found fascinating. He learned a lot from them, and in time, incorporating what he’d learned into his own songs might yield something new altogether.

Tonight’s performance was, again, perfect. After the final bow, Lin Qihua led the others around to thank the patrons who had sent flowers—the band’s most loyal fans, who also brought them generous rewards. Making a round to their tables after each show had become a tradition.

“Hey, long time no see.” As he approached a table, he was surprised to find himself greeted by Liu Feng, whom he hadn’t seen in months.

Caught off guard, Lin Qihua replied, “Thank you for your support.” Liu Feng wasn’t alone; he was accompanied by a man and a woman of similar age, but Lin Qihua didn’t recognize them—they weren’t artists from the company.

“I watched your performance. It was excellent.” Liu Feng smiled meaningfully. “As I thought, a stage like this suits you. Congratulations on finally finding the right direction.”

Lin Qihua could easily read between the lines: “You loser, you dared to compete with me, yet now you’re reduced to singing at a bar.”

Liu Xing, standing nearby, had a quick temper. The moment he heard this, he bristled, “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you looking down on us?”

“Not at all,” Liu Feng replied calmly, as if Lin Qihua and his companions were no longer on his level—there was no need to lower himself. He spread his hands and smiled, “Qihua used to be a good teammate and friend. Seeing him find a suitable job here at the bar makes me very happy. Whether as a lead singer, guitarist, or keyboardist, he’s so at ease with it all. Back in the group, he was truly held back, his talent suppressed. Now that he’s found a stage to shine, how could I not be happy for him?”

Lin Qihua looked quietly at Liu Feng. “You’ve broken the company’s rules. Good thing you know better than to bring Xiao Zhi and the others, or you’d be in real trouble if the media found out.”

“Heh, rules are dead, people are alive. The group’s doing great lately, which proves I was right and you were wrong back then,” Liu Feng said indifferently. “It’s rare to have a break, so I’m just out relaxing with friends, preparing for the next push. You know, the annual rankings are about to be released. I have a real shot at making it to the second-tier teams, while you’re definitely being demoted—you’ll only be able to look up at us from below.”

“Then congratulations,” Lin Qihua said, grabbing the impulsive Liu Xing and Haizi, his expression unchanged. “Who’s right and who’s wrong isn’t clear yet. Who laughs last is still unknown. In showbiz, how often do things turn out differently?”

“Qihua, I really admire you,” Liu Feng said, looking at Lin Qihua’s calm face and feeling like the victor. “You used to be impulsive, which is why you offended the artist department and Guo Shao. But now, you can control your emotions. I can’t help but be impressed by your growth—maybe this place has taught you something about life. It’s a pity you can’t go back. If you’d had this mindset before, I might not have been so sure of winning.”

“You flatter me. It’s just that you’re not worth getting angry over,” Lin Qihua replied calmly. He nodded to the other two. “Thank you for your support. We should move on.”

“Go ahead. They’re your bread and butter. If you upset them, you’ll have no income,” Liu Feng said, waving his hand. “I should head back too—got to prepare for the New Year’s concert. This is our big chance. Next year, we’ll be in the second-tier teams.”

“Good luck,” Lin Qihua said with a smile, leading his group to another table.

Liu Feng’s face darkened. He’d come tonight to enjoy Lin Qihua’s misery. As the winner, he could afford to be magnanimous, but Lin Qihua’s composure bothered him. A loser was supposed to show anger and desperation in the face of victory, wasn’t he? Why was Lin Qihua so calm? The thought of that expression was as unpleasant as swallowing a dead fly.

“Is that the rival you’ve been fighting for years?” the woman beside him asked curiously.

“Yes. It seems recent trials have made him much steadier,” Liu Feng replied, somewhat annoyed.

“Maybe he’s just suppressing his anger. This isn’t the place to make a scene—he’d get punished if he did. Or perhaps he’s simply resigned, with no fight left in him,” the man offered.

“No,” Liu Feng shook his head. He knew Lin Qihua too well. “He’s not angry—maybe he’s still hoping to return to the big stage.”

“He’s probably afraid of causing trouble that would ruin his chances of a comeback. Makes sense—once your reputation is ruined, it’s hard to recover,” the man said, an amused smile on his lips. “In that case, why don’t we help publicize his current situation?”

“How?” Liu Feng knew his friend well—he worked in the media and was no stranger to these things.

“It’s simple. Just let it be known that he’s singing at a bar now,” the man said with a smile. “If I were an ordinary audience member and heard about an artist performing at a bar, my first impression would be what? That he’s fallen from grace, can’t make it in show business, and is reduced to bar gigs. The specifics don’t matter—people will imagine the seediest kinds of places. With that association, how hard will it be for him to make a comeback? What company would want to sign him? Think about Li Long—even though she’s now an A-list star, she still can’t shake the label of being a bar singer. There’s always a natural stigma.”

“Very true. Let’s do it,” Liu Feng laughed, slapping his thigh. “Then I’ll leave this to you, brother.”

“No problem,” the man replied with a slight smile, raising his glass. “Here’s to a successful New Year’s concert and soaring popularity.”

“Thank you. Cheers.” Liu Feng laughed heartily, already anticipating Lin Qihua’s reaction to these reports.

Meanwhile, the band made their rounds and returned to the lounge.

“What’s with that guy?” Liu Xing exploded. He admired Lin Qihua greatly, and being humiliated face-to-face was hard to swallow. “Clearly, he came just to show off in front of you.”

Ahui, Nana, and the others looked at Lin Qihua with concern.

“He’s an artist from my old company. Because of some group disputes, things didn’t end well between us,” Lin Qihua said, pressing his lips together, clearly unsettled. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just do what we do.”

The others understood. They were all aware of Lin Qihua’s past, and knew this was likely the person responsible for his departure. Now, he’d come to flaunt his success.

“Can you all stop with those faces?” Lin Qihua couldn’t help but laugh. “People have mouths—they’re going to talk. It’s not like words can kill. Let them say what they want.”

Ahui joined in to lighten the mood, “Exactly. With Qihua’s talent, he’ll be back on the big stage in no time, putting that guy in his place. Let them gloat for now—the real battle comes later.”

Everyone understood. Considering Lin Qihua’s almost ruthless self-discipline, ever-improving vocal skills, and songwriting talent, taking down someone like Liu Feng would be a breeze once he was back in the spotlight.

“As they say in the entertainment world,” Lin Qihua said quietly, “an artist without self-control will never reach the highest echelons of performance. Someone like him, just a third-tier artist, indulging himself like this, is bound to run into trouble. Just wait and see.”