Chapter 36

At six thirty, the bar had just opened, but most of the seats were already occupied.

As Jiang Ji pushed the door and walked in, he was momentarily stunned by the sight of so many people.

Upon seeing him enter, the patrons in the bar all turned their attention to him, causing a stir. Some even let out excited screams.

The bartender standing near the door turned to Jiang Ji, raised his palm to his mouth, and whispered in a hushed tone, “The boss lady should give you a raise. Many of them are here specifically to hear you sing.”

Jiang Ji usually started singing at eight in the evening, so it was still early. He glanced at the crowd, but didn’t react much. As usual, he made his way towards the staircase on the side.

On the short walk to the stairs, someone held up their phone and called his name, but he didn’t look back. He carried his guitar and went upstairs.

Jiang Bei was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in playing a game on her phone, and didn’t look up when she heard footsteps.

“Where did you get that phone?” Jiang Ji walked over, took the guitar off his shoulder, and leaned it against the wall, then glanced at the phone in her hand — it wasn’t the old-fashioned phone he had bought for Jiang Bei before, but a fairly new smartphone.

“I got it in exchange for the old one,” Jiang Bei said, her fingers moving swiftly on the screen. “I traded it with Xiao Pang voluntarily. I showed him a trick with the old phone, cracking a walnut with it, and he was so impressed that he insisted on trading with me.”

Looking at Jiang Bei, who could effortlessly come up with a set of nonsense, Jiang Ji frowned, “If his parents come to beat you up, solve it yourself, don’t cause trouble for me.”

“You know nothing,” Jiang Bei said calmly. “In his parents’ eyes, the phone is already gone.”

Seems like she found herself a fool. Jiang Ji could roughly guess how she got this phone.

Forget it, as long as it’s not stolen, he’s not in the mood to deal with it now.

Jiang Bei finished her game, and the takeout also arrived. She put the phone in her pocket and went downstairs to pick up the delivery.

Jiang Ji took the takeout from her, opened the two boxes, and started unpacking.

Jiang Bei sat down and forcefully opened the disposable chopsticks. “I heard you’re going to be a star.”

Jiang Ji placed the unpacked food containers in front of her without saying a word.

“They showed me your video this afternoon,” Jiang Bei, eating a bite of stir-fried rice noodles, vaguely said, “The views were pretty high, didn’t embarrass me.”

Seeing Jiang Ji ignore her, she continued, “Being a star is great, you can earn a lot of money. Look at the person who took us to the hospital last time, spending money without blinking an eye. By the way, when you become a star, you have to make up for the meal you owed me last time, and also…”

—”We, Jiang Ji, will definitely shine brighter than those stars on TV in the future.” Suddenly, the voice and image related to Jiang Keyuan flashed in Jiang Ji’s mind. He paused for a moment, then interrupted Jiang Bei irritably, “Shut up and eat your food.”

His tone was unfriendly, and Jiang Bei glared at him. “Whatever, forget it!”

The stir-fried rice noodles had a glossy sheen of oil and tasted good, but Jiang Ji had no appetite. Since Jiang Keyuan’s death, he had never eaten a proper meal.

Jiang Keyuan, damn it, Jiang Keyuan…

Thinking of Jiang Keyuan, he felt inexplicably irritable.

Because of this guy, he was forced onto the wrong path, constantly guided by misfortune and hatred, struggling to survive. Now that the guy was dead, the path was gone, what was the meaning of living for himself? What would he do next? Jiang Ji couldn’t figure it out.

A star… Thinking of those cameras and gazes focused on him, carrying voyeuristic desires, he felt extremely uncomfortable and even strongly repulsed. He disliked any gaze that attempted to invade his life.

In the future, he would continue to sing in this bar, just like before, nothing would change. Jiang Ji thought.

Perhaps because he had just passed the Lu River where Jiang Keyuan committed suicide and thought of Jiang Keyuan again, Jiang Ji couldn’t eat any more. He closed the lid of the lunchbox and looked at Jiang Bei. “What did the person you brought back say to you last time?”

“Which one?” Jiang Bei was puzzled for a moment but then understood who he was talking about. She answered cautiously, “Oh, he kept asking about you.”

“What did he ask?”

“He asked a lot, like when you stopped studying, when you came here, why you came here… I didn’t bother with him.” Seeing Jiang Ji’s lack of response, Jiang Bei thought for a moment and added, “He also asked about the birthday cake incident.”

Jiang Ji glanced at Jiang Bei, signaling her to continue.

“He asked if you had eaten that cake, and also if you had read the letter inside the box.”

Jiang Ji didn’t say anything. He got up from the sofa, walked to the window, opened it, and lit a cigarette.

Although he had only glanced at it, the content of Jiang Keyuan’s letter seemed to be imprinted in his mind, vividly appearing —

“Jiang Ji, happy birthday. It’s Dad.

Ever since I found out your address, I’ve been secretly watching you. I didn’t intend to disturb you, but you still found out.

Is your mom doing okay? Where did she go? Is your Uncle Sui giving you any trouble?

Jiang Ji, I know you hate me, I know I’ve wronged you all these years, the debt I owe you is something I can never repay in my lifetime.

But I really, really don’t want to keep running away, don’t want to keep committing sins, don’t want to live like a waste anymore.

Please, Jiang Ji, can you talk to Dad once, just once? I want to repay these debts, I want to make it up to you and your mom, even if it costs me my life.”

Jiang Ji remembered the wet and dry marks on the letter paper, sighed deeply, and exhaled white smoke towards the window.

He straightened up, extinguished the cigarette, and went to the corner to pick up his guitar and headed downstairs.

As soon as Jiang Ji walked down the stairs, the noisy voices in the bar suddenly amplified several times, and the crowd began to stir again.

Jiang Ji walked to the center of the stage, sat on a high stool, and received tonight’s song request list from the waiter.

The voices below the stage were in a flurry —

“Jiang Ji, you look so handsome today!”

“That outfit looks amazing!”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“When will the next show be recorded?”

“Where are the other members of the band?”

Jiang Ji lowered his head and focused on browsing through the songs on the request list.

Unlike the usual popular love songs on the list, tonight was different. The first few songs were all original songs sung by Asperatus on the show, “Train Station,” “The Empty Can at the Street Corner,” and “Daytime Roar,” taking turns. It seems like the show did have some reach after all. But how did these people find their way here?

Jiang Ji scanned the request list roughly and paused at one song in the middle, along with the name of the singer following it — Qin Qingzhuo.

That peculiar bittersweet feeling emerged timely once again.

Seeing his gaze fixed on a spot on the request list, the waiter asked, “What’s wrong? Do you have any questions?”

“No,” Jiang Ji took the pen and marked several songs on the list, “Prepare the lyrics for these songs for me.”

“Sure.” The waiter took the song list and replied.

Taking the lyrics and sheet music, Jiang Ji held his guitar and sang in sequence according to the order on the song list. After a few songs, it was Qin Qingzhuo’s turn.

He stood up, took a short break, walked to the side to grab a bottle of mineral water, took a few sips, and then sat back on the high stool, picking up the guitar again.

“The next one is…” He paused before continuing, “Qin Qingzhuo’s ‘Entrapped in My Dream.'”

The atmosphere in the crowd suddenly became lively. As soon as Jiang Ji mentioned the song title, someone in the audience shouted, “The mentor’s song!”

“If you sing it poorly, will the mentor scold you?” someone joked in the front row.

Laughter erupted from the crowd, creating a sense of cheering.

Jiang Ji, seemingly oblivious, lowered his eyes, looking more serious than before. His fingers gently swept across the guitar strings, and the intro melody echoed. The noisy atmosphere below instantly diminished, and all eyes focused on him.

Qin Qingzhuo set the guitar aside and sighed while looking at the three sets of sheet music.

To be honest, in terms of completeness, these three songs were indeed not as good as the ones Asperatus had performed in the previous competition.

He could feel the chaotic emotions Jiang Ji had while writing these songs, the desire for catharsis, and the contradictory mindset of wanting to vent but not reveal himself.

He speculated that this was related to Jiang Ji’s personality. Jiang Ji wasn’t someone who liked exposing his wounds; he always concealed his emotions, making himself appear indifferent to everything.

Perhaps Jiang Ji needed an outlet for catharsis, Qin Qingzhuo thought, or else these emotions would torment him like sand in a clamshell, making it impossible for him to break free and live in prolonged emotional exhaustion.

Qin Qingzhuo once again perused the three sets of sheet music. He could certainly help Jiang Ji improve them, knowing how to infuse a song with emotional appeal and provocation. But would that really contribute to Jiang Ji’s emotional release?

Suddenly, the sheet music for “Endless Night,” the one he had accidentally picked up outside Jiang Ji’s room last time, flashed in his mind.

He couldn’t remember the lyrics very well, but he still vividly recalled the intense and violent emotions embedded in that song.

If he guessed correctly, only in that song did Jiang Ji truly vent his emotions. If he could get him to sing that song on stage, perhaps it could help him come out of it more quickly.

Moreover, relying on Qin Qingzhuo’s years of intuition as a musician, that song possessed a soul-penetrating infectious power, which was enough to defeat Urban Collapse.

With this in mind, Qin Qingzhuo set down the sheet music in his hands, picked up his phone, and sent Jiang Ji a message: “Have you ever considered singing ‘Endless Night’?”

There was no reply for a while. After waiting for a moment, Qin Qingzhuo stood up, put on his coat, pushed the door open, and walked out – he wanted to talk to Jiang Ji about this in person.

The night on Honglu Slope Street was still bustling as usual, slightly cool with the arrival of autumn, but it didn’t deter the guests from their revelry.

The driver found a place to park, and Qin Qingzhu put on his mask before getting out of the car and heading towards the Honglu Bar.

Originally, he had thought that if the bar was not crowded, perhaps he could sit down and listen to Jiang Ji sing. But as he approached, Qin Qingzhu noticed through the glass doors that the Honglu Bar was packed to the brim, with almost no empty seats in sight.

Qin Qingzhu never liked crowded places. He was just about to turn back to wait in the car when he heard a familiar melody coming from inside—the unexpected sound of Jiang Ji singing his own song.

His steps faltered, and he stood at the entrance of the bar, listening to the music coming from inside.

Jiang Ji indeed had a good voice. This song was challenging, with a wide vocal range and requiring skillful transitions and breath control, yet Jiang Ji sang effortlessly, and every emotional nuance was deeply captivating.

Over the years, Qin Qingzhu had heard many cover versions by various singers, including some well-known ones, but none of them sounded quite like Jiang Ji’s rendition. It had an instantly appealing quality that almost stunned him.

It was hard to imagine that such a voice was hidden away in a small bar in an alley. If it weren’t for this program, how long would this young man have remained undiscovered?

Lost in the music just a wall away, Qin Qingzhu was suddenly called by someone from below the stairs.

Looking up, Qin Qingzhu saw a girl looking at him from under the stairs, somewhat familiar but he couldn’t recall where he had seen her before.

“Huang Ying,” the girl volunteered her name, “We’ve met before.”

Qin Qingzhu concentrated for a moment. “Xia Qi’s friend?”

“That’s me. You still remember,” Huang Ying smiled, “Are you here to see Jiang Ji? Do you want me to call him out?”

“No need,” Qin Qingzhu said, “Let him sing, I’ll listen for a while.”

“Is it okay with you being in my bar?” Huang Ying walked up the stairs and offered Qin Qingzhu a cigarette, but he shook his head and declined.

“Have you quit smoking?”

“I quit a long time ago.”

“No wonder, I remember you used to smoke. I thought maybe I remembered it wrong.” Huang Ying put the cigarette away, deciding against smoking herself. “By the way, are you just standing here? Aren’t you afraid of being recognized?”

“I’ve been out of the limelight for years. Even if I were recognized, there’s nothing much to attract attention,” Qin Qingzhu smiled, seemingly reluctant to talk about himself, changing the subject instead, “How long has Jiang Ji been here with you?”

“Almost a year, I think,” Huang Ying thought for a moment, “Back then, I had just taken over this bar and was watching the workers renovate at the door when I saw him carrying a guitar, leading a little girl. Without even a word of greeting, he asked if we needed someone to sing. I thought he was pretty cool, so I decided to keep him and let him stay.”

Huang Ying’s description was quite vivid, and Qin Qingzhu could visualize the scene she described, listening attentively.

“He’s handsome, has a good voice, and has attracted quite a few girls for me. The young man is nice, but…” Huang Ying paused, “he’s a bit reserved, too solitary.”

“He is quite reserved,” Qin Qingzhu chuckled, “Doesn’t like to talk about anything.”

Their relationship wasn’t too close, and Huang Ying had other things to attend to. After exchanging a few words, she bid farewell and asked again before leaving, “Are you really sure you don’t want me to call him out?”

Qin Qingzhu shook his head, “Really not necessary. You go ahead with your business.”

After Huang Ying left, Qin Qingzhu stood at the door for a while longer before returning to his car.

Before hearing this song, Qin Qingzhu’s intention was to help Asperatus “perform beautifully” as much as possible. But after listening to this song, his mindset changed. He wanted Asperatus to win, and he wanted all the audience to remember this victory.

To stop here would be such a waste.

Jiang Ji deserved to be liked by more people, deserved to stand on a bigger stage, and should not be confined to a small bar hidden in an alley.

But… would Jiang Ji really choose to sing “Endless Night”? Qin Qingzhu leaned back in his seat, feeling a bit conflicted. That song contained too much personal emotion, and Jiang Ji might not want to expose it. Yet if he didn’t sing that song, which other song could have the same power to strike the audience’s hearts and truly help Jiang Ji release his emotions?

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Honglu Slope Street gradually quieted down, with several nearby bars closing in succession.

The crowd on the street gradually dispersed. Qin Qingzhu opened the car door, intending to go and see if Jiang Ji had finished singing.

As he stepped out of the car and his gaze fell not far away, his brows furrowed—he saw Jiang Ji following behind a middle-aged man, disappearing into a secluded alley.