Chapter 46 - 41: The Last Song for Myself
He placed the polished glass upside down on the rack, looking up at Chen Lin. There wasn’t a hint of surprise on his face, only a knowing look.
"What about next semester? Are you still coming?"
Now it was Chen Lin who was taken aback. He asked, puzzled, "Brother Wang, how come you don’t seem surprised at all?"
Hearing this, Brother Wang grinned, revealing a set of teeth slightly yellowed from smoking.
He set down the polishing cloth, poured himself half a glass of beer, and slid a chilled bottle of RIO over to Chen Lin.
"I’ve been navigating the world for over a decade. I’ve picked up a thing or two about reading people."
He took a sip of beer and let out a satisfied sigh. "Ever since you took that break and came back to sing, kid, I could tell something about you had changed."
He tapped his temple, his tone filled with the conviction of a seasoned veteran. "I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is, just a feeling. Your whole aura is different. I started thinking that my little temple here was about to get too small for a great Buddha like you."
A strange warmth washed over Chen Lin as he heard this.
He picked up the bottle of RIO and gently clinked it against Brother Wang’s glass. "You’re giving me too much credit, Brother Wang," he said with a smile. "Honestly, I haven’t completely figured out my own path forward. But starting next semester, I’m probably going to be extremely busy, so I really don’t think I can guarantee I’ll be able to come every week."
"Don’t worry about it!" Brother Wang waved his hand expansively, his manner exceptionally hearty. "A good man belongs out in the world! If you have a chance to do something more important, you go for it. I’ve got your back! And of course, whenever you feel like coming back to sing, my door is always open for you!"
"Thanks, Brother Wang," Chen Lin said with heartfelt sincerity.
...
...
At half-past six in the evening, the bar’s nighttime service officially began.
Customers began to trickle in, and the bar was soon more than half full.
Microphone in hand, Brother Wang walked onto the small stage with practiced ease. With a few bantering opening lines, he quickly warmed up the crowd.
"Good evening, all you handsome men and lovely ladies!" He cleared his throat, his voice echoing through the bar’s sound system. "Tonight marks the last performance of the semester for a good friend of mine, our very own resident singer at the Back Street Bar—Chen Lin!"
The moment he finished speaking, a ripple of disappointed murmurs went through the audience.
"What? His last performance?" a stylishly dressed young woman blurted out. "I only came here because I saw that promo video! I’m so glad I made it today, or I would’ve missed my chance to see this handsome guy with an amazing voice!"
Her friend nodded in agreement. "I know, right? If we’d missed this, who knows when we’d get another chance to see him."
Brother Wang smiled and held up his hands, gesturing for the crowd to quiet down.
"So, to give our friend Chen Lin a special farewell show, we’re doing something a little different tonight!"
He paused for dramatic effect, then raised his voice. "Tonight, we’re not just here to listen to songs—we’re here to listen to stories! Anyone in the audience who has a story to tell is welcome to come on stage and share it. After you’re done, our very own Chen Lin will sing a song just for you, inspired by your story! How’s that for a special event?"
"YEAH—!"
The crowd below erupted in enthusiastic cheers and applause.
"Alright, let’s get started! Who wants to be the first to come up and share their story?" The words had barely left Brother Wang’s mouth when, from a corner booth, a young man in a white shirt who looked like a professional hesitantly raised his hand.
"Great! Let’s hear from this gentleman right here!"
With all eyes on him, the young man took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.
He took the microphone. His voice was a bit shaky but utterly sincere. "Hi, everyone. I come from a single-parent family; my dad raised me all by himself. I came to Jinmen for college from out of town and stayed here for work after graduating. Now, I find myself going home less and less. Lately, every time I visit, I can’t help but notice how much older he looks. It makes me think back to his younger days, to the time he spent raising me."
His eyes grew red-rimmed, and his voice began to choke up. "Next Wednesday is my dad’s birthday. And two weeks after that, it’s Father’s Day. So... I’d like to request a song for him."
When he finished, he bowed deeply.
The audience fell silent, moved by his genuine emotion.
Chen Lin nodded, showing he understood. He walked to the center of the stage, adjusted the microphone stand, and a few songs quickly ran through his mind.
Finally, he settled on the one that felt most fitting.
Facing the audience and the young man, he said softly, "A song called ’Prose Poem Written by My Father,’ for this gentleman’s father, and for all the fathers out there."
The gentle, storytelling melody of a guitar began to play. Chen Lin closed his eyes, letting the emotion of the story wash over him.
His "Little Singer" title gave him perfect control over pitch and rhythm, but the emotion was something he had to find within himself.
He thought of his own father.
Although Chen Lin came from a happy, complete family, and his father’s life hadn’t been as difficult as the man’s in the story, that quiet, profound, and unspoken love—solid as a mountain—felt so very similar.
He also remembered going home for the Lunar New Year and happening to notice the few gray hairs that had sprouted at his father’s temples.
The emotion swelled within him. He felt a sting in his nose and began to sing:
"In nineteen eighty-four, the harvest wasn’t finished yet"
"My son lay in my arms, sleeping so sweetly"
"There was no time to see the outdoor movie that night"