Chapter One: First Encounter

Let me introduce myself first. My name is Yang Chen, I’m twenty-four this year, single, and I work as a resident singer in a small bar. It’s not a hobby—it’s a profession. My life is lived in reverse, night blending into day, working myself to exhaustion. I earn about one to two hundred yuan a night, which just barely allows me to survive in this dazzling, extravagant city.

My parents are both ordinary workers. Despite their objections, I insisted on attending the Conservatory of Music, only to graduate with nothing to show for it. With nowhere else to turn, my good friend An Ye took me into his band, and that’s how I landed this job at the bar.

Some say that ideals are distant, others that life is hard. But in my view, only with money can there be life; without it, all you’re left with are ideals. In this world, not everything is tied to money, but money has a hand in everything. Back in college, I once had what I believed was a sincere love. But love, in the end, is just love—it was never meant for this illusory world. Eventually, we parted ways as naturally as drifting clouds; she found a boss who could give her a colorful life, and I let my tears flow in freedom, content with my solitude.

The first thing I worry about upon waking is what to have for lunch. Yes, ever since my school days ended, mornings have vanished from my life…

Some people think turning a hobby into a career is a blessing, but they don’t realize that once you do, your passion ceases to be a joy and becomes a burden. When you’re tired, you don’t even have something to truly enjoy anymore. You lose not only to life, but to happiness itself.

Daytimes are monotonous, and the nights even more so. The only difference is the faces I encounter: some sympathetic, some critical, some genuinely appreciative. But that’s none of my business anymore. All I wish for is to earn a little more, so I no longer have to feel ashamed when I speak of myself, nor let my parents feel embarrassed when they mention me.

Numbly, evening arrived again. Around six o’clock, I grabbed a quick bite by the roadside, then hailed a cab to Fenghua Bar.

“Chen, you’re early today,” called out a young man with long, asymmetrical hair covering one eye, dressed in a black leather jacket. This was my sworn brother, An Ye. We attended the same university, even shared a dorm room. We have truly shared both fortune and adversity together. His musical talent surpasses mine, and it was he who assembled the other band members.

“Yezi, what are we singing tonight?” Most popular songs don’t require much practice, but for new releases or the latest hits from rising stars, we have to rehearse and get in sync privately.

“‘Ordinary Road’—it’s quite popular lately. Let’s give it a try. Then we’ll do ‘Elopement.’” An Ye named the two songs. We’d been practicing the former recently and should have no trouble performing it. As for “Elopement,” that one flows naturally from our lips.

“Give it your best tonight, it all depends on you!” came a bright, clear voice from behind.

I turned around in surprise and saw a woman in a bar-tailored suit. Her figure was flawless, her short hair neat and stylish, her complexion pale and beautiful.

I almost forgot to mention, this beauty is our bar’s floor manager—her name is Shi Yu, twenty-seven this year. We all call her “Big Sister.” She loves to joke and play around with us, never putting on managerial airs. It’s precisely this warmth and approachability that brings us a trace of comfort in this unforgiving world.

“Don’t worry, Big Sister,” An Ye waved his hand reassuringly.

I nodded eagerly as well. Among all the women I’ve met, she’s the most beautiful and pure. Every time I face her, I can’t help but feel a bit dazed and awkward.

“If you perform well tonight, I’ll treat everyone to a late-night snack,” Shi Yu said with a smile, then turned away to her duties.

Before I knew it, eight o’clock had arrived. The bar officially opened for business. Accompanied by the gentle strumming of guitars, we walked onto the stage in the center of the bar. I glanced down and, by chance, noticed a girl sitting in a dark corner, wearing oversized sunglasses. I call her a girl, not a woman, because the skin exposed by her unfamiliar black dress was so fair and delicate—she couldn’t be very old.

She sat quietly in the corner, sipping a glass of red wine, drinking slowly and alone.

I tore my gaze away, cleared my throat, delivered the bar’s customary welcome, and began the performance with “Ordinary Road.”

Wandering on the road…
Boiling, restless…
I once crossed mountains and seas, and also crowds of people. All I once embraced, in a blink, drifted away like smoke…

When the song ended, the bar was silent. After a few seconds, applause slowly rose. Unconsciously, I had become completely immersed in the music, until An Ye nudged me—it was time for the next song.

By chance, I looked again at the girl in the sunglasses—she had lifted her head and was quietly watching the stage.

“Thank you for your applause. The next song, ‘Elopement,’ is for all of you!” I announced.

Just as I was about to begin, a slightly overweight woman dressed head-to-toe in designer brands suddenly rushed onto the stage and slapped me hard across the face. The blow sent me stumbling into the drum kit.

Instinctively, I clutched my burning, tingling cheek, staring in shock at the furious woman, utterly confused.

Before I could make sense of what was happening, An Ye, still holding his electric guitar, hurriedly pulled me away. The bar had briefed us on such incidents before—if someone causes trouble, we’re not allowed to argue or retaliate, let alone get physical.

As I was being dragged backstage in a daze, I heard the woman shouting, “Which one of you is Shi Yu? Get her out here right now!”

Hearing that she was here for Big Sister, I instinctively shook off An Ye’s grip. I was afraid that if I left, Shi Yu would be at a disadvantage—judging by that woman’s manner, she wasn’t someone who would let things go easily.

Soon, Shi Yu walked over from the bar, her trademark smile on her face. No matter what kind of trouble she faced, she always met it with that lovely, gentle expression—such composure and calmness, perhaps something I could never master in my life.

“You little tramp, you’re the one seducing my husband, aren’t you?” The woman sized up Shi Yu’s figure with a cold, venomous tone. “Tonight, I’ll scratch up your face and see how you seduce anyone else!”

Shi Yu’s eyes flashed briefly with confusion and fear, but she didn’t retaliate against the crude insults. She hurriedly tried to explain, “Ma’am, you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know your husband, and I would never do such a thing!”

But the woman wouldn’t listen. She raised her hand and slapped Shi Yu hard across the face.

“Damn you!” Seeing Big Sister sitting on the stage, clutching her face, her eyes brimming with tears yet still gazing resolutely at the fat woman, I couldn’t stand it any longer. No matter what, no one could hurt my Big Sister. No one!

I kicked An Ye aside and was about to charge at the furious woman, but An Ye threw his guitar down and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding on with all his strength, shouting, “Chen, are you out of your mind?”

“Let go of me!” I pounded on An Ye’s arms and roared.

Just then, I saw a familiar figure step in front of the woman—dressed in a black trench coat, wearing those cool, oversized sunglasses, long slender legs, a slim waist—it was the silent girl from the corner.

She raised her hand and slapped the woman crisply and forcefully. As the woman, her eyes red with rage, was about to retaliate, two men in black appeared on either side of her, seizing her arms and marching her toward the door.

It all happened so suddenly. As I stood there stunned, the girl in black walked slowly over to me, swept her dark hair back, and, though her large sunglasses concealed her eyes, I could feel the disdain in her gaze. She smiled coldly and said in a low voice, “If you can’t even protect your own woman, why bother living?”