Liang Zhen and Jewish finalized their decision to use “Zhejiang Wenzhou Jiangnan Leather Factory Closed Down” for their hook just a week before entering the recording studio.

This idea was actually first proposed by Jewish. He had come across some intriguing comments on NetEase Cloud Music, where one user, named Wang San BB, interpreted the lyrical version of this song as reflecting the decline of the real economy, the lack of protection for migrant workers’ rights, the painful transformation of the manufacturing industry, and the imperfections in the corporate limited liability system.

Jewish’s initial reaction to this comment was one of skepticism. How could a song about the Jiangnan Leather Factory convey so much? However, after looping the song all day, he too began to sense a melancholy undertone in it.

That melancholy wasn’t for the real-life Huang He. A song is an artistic work; the creator’s intent is one thing, but the audience’s interpretation is influenced by their personal experiences. This song was based on reality—there really was a Jiangnan Leather Factory in Wenzhou, and its owner Huang He did flee after the bankruptcy. However, if you view “Huang He” and “Jiangnan Leather Factory” as symbols representing decades of private enterprise in Wenzhou rather than real people and events, the song transcends reality.

This reminded Jewish of something Liang Zhen had said: a truly good comedy can evoke a sense of tragedy, making people laugh through their tears. After looping the lyrical version of “Jiangnan Leather Factory” all day, Jewish also felt the helplessness of an ordinary outsider facing the passage of time. When he imagined himself in the shoes of those migrant workers, who could only sell cheap wallets to afford a ticket home after their bosses absconded, Jewish felt a deep sense of guilt. This city had given him pride but had also mistreated and betrayed many outsiders who came to Wenzhou seeking a better life.

Those people shouldn’t be forgotten.

Once the decision to remix “Jiangnan Leather Factory” was made, the two of them also reworked their verses. This wasn’t a reckless move but a deliberate choice to fully embrace “comedy rap” and attempt something unprecedented. Liang Zhen visited several places in Mushan Street where many outsiders gathered, guided by Gao Yunxiao. Over a few days, he met and spoke with more people from various backgrounds than he ever had in school. After these visits, he chose three of the most typical interviewees and incorporated their stories into his lyrics, making them the protagonists. Following a one-and-a-half-minute vignette about ordinary people in Wenzhou, Liang Zhen introduced the hook of “Jiangnan Leather Factory,” followed by Jewish’s verse. After three days of recording, Liang Zhen was exhausted, wanting to take a nap, but seeing Jewish still revising the lyrics, he felt that some of his previous statements were indeed biased.

He thought that while Wenzhou might not have had many representative singers in the past, the present and future of Wenzhou would be shaped by people like Jewish. Their efforts and talents were the pride of the city, and one day they would break out of Wenzhou, showcasing the city’s new image to everyone.

Despite their efforts, “New Jiangnan Leather Factory” was the least technically sophisticated song Liang Zhen had ever produced, even lacking mixing. It was raw to the point of being overly authentic. Yet, he placed this song second in the album, believing it was the most important track after “Crossing Mountains and Rivers For You.”

Initially, this order worried Jewish. This was Liang Zhen’s first album, so it should be steady rather than putting such an “unconventional” song in such a prominent position.

Liang Zhen understood, knowing that Jewish’s real concern was the potential negative feedback the song might receive. He worried that the sentiment they wanted to convey—about the city not forgetting the hard-working outsiders—would not be captured by the audience.

In other words, how many people would perceive the serious and melancholic undertones beneath the “comedy rap” surface? Once the song was released, how many people would mock it, claiming it wasn’t real hip-hop?

“This is hip-hop,” Liang Zhen was unwavering. “What we write and sing about actually happens in Wenzhou. This is hip-hop.”

“And as long as it’s real, it will move people. There will be those who are willing to uncover the deeper meaning behind the song.”

Before releasing the album, Liang Zhen considered creating a special cover for “New Jiangnan Leather Factory” because this song was completely different from his usual style and the overall tone of the album. He wanted to distinguish it, but had no specific idea for the cover. Shao Mingyin suggested taking photos in Mushan Street since the migrant workers mentioned in the lyrics lived there.

So, on a Sunday afternoon, Shao Mingyin and Liang Zhen each rode a public bicycle, aimlessly passing through every village in the district.

It was actually Liang Zhen’s first time riding a public bicycle in Wenzhou. After being with Shao Mingyin, he had lost count of his many “firsts.” It was early May, the wind was still cool, and it rustled the evergreen camphor trees along the road. This was the best and brightest season in the South. When Liang Zhen boldly stretched out his arms to embrace the spring breeze, his navy and gray checkered shirt flapped in the wind.

Then he would stop, braking like a four-wheel-drive vehicle drifting, one foot on the ground, the other still on the pedal, half-turned to face the trailing Shao Mingyin. Once Shao Mingyin caught up, he would happily speed ahead again, always wanting to ride in front of Shao Mingyin.

He finally stopped in front of a factory ruin and took a picture. Shao Mingyin said there were many such ruins in Mushan Street, and Liang Zhen had the sudden idea to photograph them all and stitch them together for the song cover.

So Shao Mingyin led him, now riding ahead. He was so familiar with the area that he even remembered which fields had been left unattended after illegal buildings were demolished. Initially, Liang Zhen joked around, riding closely beside him.

But as they photographed seven or eight ruins, Liang Zhen’s smiles waned. Shao Mingyin was heading to the next site when he noticed Liang Zhen still lingering at a ruin.

“Liang Zhen?” Shao Mingyin called, walking over with his bike.

Liang Zhen didn’t respond immediately. He squatted, running his hand through the wild grass. When he stood up, he held a handful of soil.

It was southern soil—black and moist. Liang Zhen sniffed it, catching the faint fragrance of plants. Looking at the fertile land, he remarked how beneficial such soil would be in Lanzhou.

——If this moist and fertile soil were in arid Lanzhou, no one would build on it.

But human nature is the same everywhere. When visible profit is at stake, who cares about the land’s feelings?

After illegal bricks were flattened by demolition crews and fell into the fields, did the fields feel pain?

Liang Zhen asked Shao Mingyin how many more such ruins existed.

Shao Mingyin couldn’t answer immediately, saying, quite a few.

And no one manages them?

They’re useless now, so no one cares.

Liang Zhen clenched the soil in his hand. When he opened his palm again, he saw the dirt embedded in his skin’s creases. He wondered if the land, like humans, felt pain when passively altered and abandoned.

When people are abandoned, it hurts, and there will be others to write, to sing, and to remember that pain. But when the land is abandoned and feels pain, it can’t even let out a cry.

That day, Shao Mingyin and Liang Zhen filmed the ruins of over forty illegal buildings on farms in Mushan Street. Liang Zhen used the photos to make an album cover. At the last moment of editing and uploading, he hesitated, even though he knew he would definitely include “New Jiangnan Leather Factory” in the album. For a moment, he wondered if he should remove the song.

Then Shao Mingyin said, “Upload it.”

“Do you think people will say this song is silly tomorrow?”

Shao Mingyin didn’t directly answer whether they would or not. Instead, he told Liang Zhen that what they were doing was very meaningful.

Shao Mingyin said that this song and the feelings it encapsulates were given to him by Wenzhou, and that the “I” in the song is part of him, proof that he had lived in this city.

Shao Mingyin said, “You have to believe that those who understand will naturally understand.”

Liang Zhen smiled and uploaded it.

Liang Zhen’s digital album was uploaded at midnight. After uploading it, he went to sleep with Shao Mingyin. Rappers rarely make money from albums, and Liang Zhen was the same. He didn’t care about sales numbers. He insisted on releasing a digital album purely to fulfill a small personal wish—starting today, he was also someone with an album, and the title of singer was more legitimate. So he never expected that when he woke up the next day and checked his phone, his album sales had reached three digits.

His first reaction was that there were fake purchases. Looking at his phone and then at Shao Mingyin, although excited, he didn’t wake him up. Even if he did, he didn’t know whether to tell him the good news about the album sales or ask if he had bought fake followers.

So while Shao Mingyin was still half-awake, Liang Zhen checked the backend of the app to see who had bought his album. Sure enough, there were about a dozen accounts that had bought dozens of copies each.

But those dozen IDs were quite unique, and they all contained the same keyword. The more Liang Zhen looked, the more annoyed he became, and he read it out loud in his frustration.

“I love geography?”

Shao Mingyin was almost awake. Hearing Liang Zhen’s voice, he responded with a nasal “hmm?” and opened his eyes. Liang Zhen showed him those IDs.

“Geography makes me happy?” Shao Mingyin read aloud too. “Geography elevates me, I want to score 100 in my geography elective, I need an A in my geography exam…” Shao Mingyin scrolled down and saw that all those IDs included the word geography. He asked Liang Zhen, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Liang Zhen felt a bit confused. “This geography-loving… student? Bought over 500 copies of my album with different IDs.”

Liang Zhen no longer suspected that Shao Mingyin had bought fake followers. He started to think it might be Song Zhou, but if it were Song Zhou, the IDs should be “I love Gao Yunge,” “Gao Yunge makes me happy,” “Gao Yunge, please look at me more”…

“I know who it is. It should be Xue Meng,” Shao Mingyin said, burying his face back in the quilt, not wanting to get up. “His homeroom teacher teaches geography.”

Liang Zhen never expected it to be Xue Meng, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time. But when he checked the comments section of his new song and saw that geography-loving ID posting several “rainbow” and “blowing kiss” emojis, he felt it was very likely Xue Meng.

Liang Zhen thought it was great to have a Wenzhou fan who loved geography, who couldn’t flatter him enough and was rich enough to buy his album. While feeling happy, he looked down and saw Shao Mingyin stretching and yawning openly, with tears of drowsiness in his eyelashes.

This was completely different from the usual Shao Mingyin, and only Liang Zhen had seen this unguarded side of him. Liang Zhen instantly felt warm and snuggled back under the covers, playfully asking for a reward. This made Shao Mingyin, who was never late for work, go to the police station at noon. Baogang saw Shao Mingyin’s contented expression and wanted to advise him to take it easy, but seeing Shao Mingyin’s smile—he couldn’t explain it—he could see that his state was completely different from the past three years.

Seeing Shao Mingyin smile like that, Baogang could only bury his mixed feelings and reluctance. One day, when Baogang heard Liang Zhen’s “New Jiangnan Leather Factory” on a WeChat public account and read an article analyzing the absurdity and reality in the song and the humanistic concerns behind the lyrics, he still thought rap wasn’t reliable, but secretly he would listen to what Liang Zhen sang.

And Liang Zhen really became popular, at least in the underground scene.

With “Lanzhou Words” and a battle competition, Liang Zhen had a small rise last year, but it wasn’t substantial. When everyone thought he would continue to build on his skills and voice advantages, Liang Zhen released “New Jiangnan Leather Factory” and “Crossing Mountains and Rivers For You.” The former received mixed reviews, with some loving it and others thinking he was being pretentious. Liang Zhen never responded to these opinions. Years later, when Liang Zhen, who had become a bona fide OG in the rap scene, talked about this song, he said that writing lyrics was like writing poetry.

You write for the girl you love, to express your feelings, to leave proof of your existence… There are countless reasons to write poetry, but when you put pen to paper and complete it, what your readers truly get from the poem, the most empathetic part, actually comes from their own experiences and stories. So rather than straightforward preaching, authenticity is more moving. Rather than direct telling, a sincere presentation might evoke deeper resonance—this is the power of poetry and song, and essentially, the power of words.

This also led to other questions for Liang Zhen. He was often asked if, according to his theory, there was someone who could enter the creator’s spiritual realm, not asking for complete empathy, but at least someone he wouldn’t regret describing as “compatible.” Whenever faced with this question, Liang Zhen would smile and give the same answer: he was very lucky.

“I’m very lucky,” Liang Zhen said, “not only is there such a person, but he has been by my side from the beginning.”

That was Liang Zhen many years later, whose love for music and creation had never changed, as youthful as when he was twenty. Twenty-year-old Liang Zhen was shy to call what he wrote poetry, but he had already created songs he was satisfied with and that were recognized by others. Among them, the popularity of “Crossing Mountains and Rivers For You” exceeded his expectations. The rap scene never lacked songs about dreams and the future like “Crossing Mountains and Rivers For You,” but it also lacked rappers who could sing their own hooks and sing them well. When countless fans were drawn to Liang Zhen because of this gentle song, leaving comments like “how can a hook be so beautiful,” they didn’t know that the person who wrote and sang this song was in a less than forty square meter rental room, lying on the bed with his lover, watching the same phone, one person holding it while the other scrolled through the comments. Seeing the heartfelt comment about the hook, Shao Mingyin would smile, and Liang Zhen would hum the melody of the hook just for him…

Liang Zhen’s songs became popular, and he started planning tours. With the joint planning of Jewish, his first tour covered five cities, all within the Jiangsu-Zhejiang-Shanghai region, from July to early August, with the last stop being Wenzhou. Once everything was arranged, he had a little over half a month of free time. He wanted to rest, but thinking about the money Xue Meng spent on those 500 albums, Liang Zhen felt he had to make a music video for “New Jiangnan Leather Factory.”

And to highlight the newness, he decided to get dreadlocks.