Chicago 1990

"The latest news is that after a large-scale curfew in Los Angeles yesterday, the chieftain made a speech that would not tolerate'anarchy' and clearly opposed the riot. At one o'clock this morning, the governor of California announced that the power to the rioted area was cut off and formally gave The federal government requested assistance. More than 14,000 soldiers, including the 40th Infantry Division of the California National Guard, the 7th Infantry Division, and the First Marine Division of the United States, as well as 1,700 riot police and federal law enforcement personnel have been in succession. Entering rioted neighborhoods across California, the situation is initially under control."

At noon the next day, in the studio of Chicago’s WGN TV station, the black host was talking fast and reporting the latest developments. The small window screen was a bird’s-eye view of Los Angeles. Blocks of blocks were burnt to pieces by the fire. “In Chicago There have also been small-scale imitative riots in places such as San Francisco, San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas, Seattle, and Phoenix. Last night, protest crowds hit some ethnic minority areas in South City..."

The screen shifts to the local scenes of robbery and arson in Chicago. "However, at this moment when the whole country is hostile and hostile to each other, there is still a touch of humanity at Clark Street..."

The small window zoomed in. At the entrance of Clark Street, Song Yazheng sang Where Is The Love that had just won the apocalypse. Blacks, whites and Asians gathered under the small stage, all staring silently at him in the center of the stage.Due to the destruction of street lights, many people spontaneously lighted candles or lighters, and the scene was dotted with warmth and harmony.

"Father, Father, Father..." The male host read the lyrics to Song Ya in a painful tone: "Please help us and give us your instructions, because the problem between people is stumping me..."

The picture cuts back to the studio, he held his forehead with his hand, sucked his nose, and wiped away the tears from the corner of his eyes, "Where is the love? Where is the love? In today's U.S., this is really a difficult question to answer.

The camera zoomed out, and a serious-faced Song Ya appeared beside a male and female host in the studio.

"Sorry." The male host waved his hand and returned to normal. "So, APLUS, what prompted you to appear on Clark Street last night? And wrote such a deep song."

"Emmmmm..."

Song Ya pursed his lips and pondered for a while, "How do I say it? It was almost a subconscious move. When I heard my accountant, an elderly Chinese man I respect very much, said that Chicago Chinatown might be in danger like Los Angeles. , I didn’t think about it, so I decided to use my own power to prevent such incidents from happening in Chicago..."

"Are you of Chinese descent?" the hostess asked.

"Yes, half." Song Ya replied, "but it's not just this half blood that prompted me to do what I did last night, in fact..."

The green light above the nearby camera was on. Knowing that this meant that the TV screen would switch to a close-up of his face, he immediately put his finger on his upper lip, "Actually, when I saw the chaotic scene of Los Angeles on TV the night before, I was shocked and helpless...I saw a white driver being beaten and robbed at the street, and then lying on the ground without any help."

"I also saw that the driver was rescued by an African-American pastor and is now out of danger." The white hostess said.

"Really? That's great. I blessed and prayed for the pastor. He is a man in capital." Song Ya immediately made a sign of rejoicing, full of compassion.

"You are all, APLUS." The male host smiled.

"Me?" Song Ya smiled bitterly and shook his head, "I am ashamed, you know, I became famous very early..."

"Yes, we all like your songs, since two years ago? You wrote the second-hand store, right? At least I know Chicago's second-hand store owners love you to death." The hostess laughed.

"Thank them for their love, and it is precisely because of the love of the public. I used to think I knew everything and was omnipotent." Song Ya said: "I donated money to charity organizations. I have also been to South Africa and met Mandela. Sir..."

"You are doing good APLUS." The male host said.

"but……"

Song Ya adjusted her sitting posture, tears began to flicker in her eyes, "But from the day before yesterday, I found out that I was wrong. I was too young and I didn't really understand the whole society. I was in Nancheng, where African Americans accounted for the vast majority. I spent my childhood and most of my adolescence in the slum, and then I became popular and I quickly took off my second-hand clothes, moved into a mansion, and put on expensive luxury..."

He shook the big thick gold chain around his neck. "I don't actually know how to really help others. I donated money and went to South Africa for a glimpse of shopping, and then fell into superficial self-movement and satisfaction...I Now I am ashamed of me at the time."

"You don't have to be like this APLUS." The male host wiped his tears again, "you don't have to be like this."

"From the day before yesterday, I was at a loss. What happened to this world? What happened to the United States? What happened to Los Angeles? What happened between different ethnic groups? All..."

Song Ya opened his five fingers, and gestured with both hands on his head: "I have never thought about all of this... Frankly speaking, I have only suffered from racial discrimination two or three times since I was young. I never thought about my compatriots. Whether it is black, white or Asian, the hatred is so great. I now know that the world is wrong, but I can’t understand the deep reason. Where is the love between people? Why is there only hatred left? , Indifference, renunciation..."

"In fact, we are APLUS just like you. You are not alone." The hostess also cried.

"Okay, this is the WGN lunchtime news program, please don't go away." The staff urged in the headset, the male host hurriedly announced the end of the news, and the TV screen cut to the live video of Clark Street.

'I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder, As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder……'

Al sang his own RAP part hoarsely on the stage, "People killin', people dyin', Children hurtin', you hear them cryin'. Can you practice what you preach, And would you turn the other cheek? Father, Father, Father help us, Send us some guidance from above,'Cause people got me, got me', Where is the love..." With the cast and crew subtitles, the program ended with Song Ya's singing.

"Very good, very profound APLUS."

The director of the column happily came over to shake hands with Song Ya, "Your live performance was also perfect. I was worried that if I let you on the show without getting the script right, there would be accidents."

"No, I'm very professional." Song Ya smiled and shook hands with the two hosts and other staff.

"We have already cut the film for you." The column director pointed to Yeremov who was standing at the entrance of the studio hall.

Yeremov also smiled at Song Yayang while holding the black video tape in his hand.

"Thank you so much."

Song Ya bid farewell to the column team and joined Yeremov, "Send the videotape to Washington BET immediately and hand it to Gordon."

"Have anyone told you that you are good for being a politician?" Yeremov looked at him with admiring eyes.

"Too much."

Song Ya casually dealt with the compliments of the other party, "You remember to check the contents of the video tape first, there should be our live version, to match the news screen switching of Los Angeles chaos."

"I will, by the way, FOX called Hayden just now, and they also want to ask for your song." Yeremov said.

"They are all TV stations that tend to be like the party..." Song Ya smiled bitterly and shook his head, "Give it to them, I need to expose it now."

"I think so too."

Yeremov went to work happily. Song Ya returned to A+ Records. Three recording studios were working at the same time. Al, Dile, Fergie and Common Sense were all focusing on recording their own lyrics.

"Coffee, Taraji." He walked into the deep ocean studio.

"Do you need a night's sleep? Boss?" Taraji handed the coffee to his hand and said concerned.

"No one is allowed to sleep until the first edition is recorded." Song Ya rudely ordered.