Chicago 1990

Although Rio is in the southern hemisphere, September is not cold at all. Song Ya and Brazil’s most famous travel show host are sitting in front of a roadside stall with pedestrians coming and going behind them, and the security team is located in a blind corner of the camera lens. not far away.

"I really like the city of Rio. After coming back to the United States last year, I have never forgotten the scenery, beaches, and people here, uh, I don't know how to express it, anyway... everything is incredible, Amazing!"

He kept complimenting him with good words mixed with basic Portuguese vocabulary.

The male host joked: "Not as insecure as your media said, right?"

"Of course..." The two laughed.

"Have you tasted this kind of street food? Last time you came." The host took the food from the stall owner.

"Uh, no, you know, flying, car, publicity, performance, hurrying..."

Song Ya looked at the stuff like rice dumplings in his hand, wrapped in corn leaves, and tied with cotton thread.

"This way..." The host demonstrated how to untie the cotton thread.

It's really a damn dumpling, Song Ya skillfully opened the corn leaves, oh, the inside is different, it is the yellow corn dough, ah, a big bite, the milk fragrance is very strong, he moaned contentedly from his throat, and shot at the camera Thumbs up and nods repeatedly.

"How is it?" the host asked.

"Really delicious." He took another bite, incredibly sweet.

"Haha, do you want to stay in shape?"

"I don't think I can do it in Brazil. Every food here is great."

"Then we go to the next one?"

"no problem."

The two of them walked forward while eating, "APLUS, can you try this? You can call it a Brazilian hot dog." The host stopped in front of another roadside stall.

"What's the difference?"

"Fresh corn kernels are added to the filling."

"..." No matter how it was corn again, Song Ya continued to eat crudely.

Accepting local media interviews, running radio and TV announcements, signing sales, fan meeting, Song Ya tried his best to win over fans, high-intensity exposure, and flattering Brazilian people for the concert box office.

Of course there are necessary dress rehearsals.

"OMG..."

When he was taken by the host to the famous religious spectacle on the top of the mountain: the statue of Christ the Salvation, he immediately raised his head in tears and respectfully admired him, muttering: "Unbelievable, it is a miracle on earth."

"Yes."

The host echoed with emotion, "A..." He wanted to introduce the history of this statue, and found that the young American red star had crossed his chest, then bowed his head and closed his eyes, and said something with his hands together in a standard prayer posture. Up.

So he shut up and learned something.

The cameraman in the distance silently zoomed out the picture, making the two appear smaller and smaller under the background of the magnificent colossus, and then slowly panned to overlook the prosperous and modern downtown Rio at the foot of the mountain.

The establishment is very stable. Song Ya never needs to worry about record companies or performance agents and media public relations. After finishing the shooting task, he hiccups into the car.

Brazil is one of the few countries in the world that has the same agricultural production conditions as the United States. The price of food is very cheap and the quantity is sufficient. "Nothing wrong, right? Ms. Sloan."

"Full score! You are very likable, APLUS."

Sloan used his index finger and middle finger to hold a ten-dollar Brazilian real and handed it over. The new currency issued last year has a one-to-one exchange rate against the rice knife.

"Uh, not tonight, Milla Jovovich is coming."

They were all so familiar, Song Ya did not hide it.

At the end of August, the crew of The Anacondas officially closed the scene. As the last two people in the plot, Mila and Escobe stayed on the Peruvian studio for a few more days to make up the remaining shots. It happened that they came to South America.

"Hey, Mira, Ace..."

When Song Ya returned to the hotel, the two people who had just arrived were already in their suites. Mila, who had short men’s hair for the filming, had a darker skin. The high-shoulder leather jacket and blue jeans matched the big Tall and flat-chested, perfect neutral wind, "Sorry, I thought I could spare time to visit Peru..." he said to Mira.

"It's okay."

Mila walked over and hooked his neck with her hands, and kissed him affectionately.

"Hey, is there still someone in the room?"

Escobe raised his hands in protest.

They are all old friends, "Thanks, Ace, I heard Mila said that you took good care of her on set." Song Ya fisted him.

"Little things."

Escobe pointed out the window, "Do so many girls gather outside the hotel every day? How come your kid has so many fans in South America, M-fxxk?"

"I didn't expect it either." Song Ya hugged Mila humble, "but there are a little more people today, maybe because of tomorrow's concert."

"Wow... I really envy you."

Escobe was really envious and jealous. "Not many people know me as a hip-hop singer outside of the U.S. It's really frustrating to think about it. I've been popular on the West Coast in 1988..."

Ok?Song Ya looked at him strangely.

"What's the matter?" Escuba touched his face a little inexplicably.

"It's nothing, by the way, isn't your old NWA teammate Derry still afraid to show up?"

Song Ya inquired about Derry's recent situation, "That guy won't really want to hide from Sugnat until the contract with the death row record expires, right?"

"Who knows."

Escoper shrugged, "Anyway, the blood gang is looking for him in Los Angeles. I heard, I just heard that he is quietly helping the East Coast rapper in New York making records. You should know better than me that NAS is your good brother. Jazzy is your singer."

"I haven't heard anything about him."

Song Ya shook his head. He hadn't specifically asked about it. It seemed that Derry was determined to turn his face with Sugonite. As a West Coast tycoon, he would rather go to the East Coast to fight, but if this matter is placed before the East Coast War It’s nothing. It’s common for the singers and producers of the two sides to communicate. When the Es Cube in front of him turned out a ruthless record, he was also a New York production team.

"Stop talking about this."

Escoper felt that the bandit rap circle was too messy, so he temporarily retreated to focus on the film business. He knew more than himself, but didn't want to talk more.

"Take you to see the concert rehearsal?" Song Ya saw the concert staff come in and pointed to his watch.

"Okay, let's go."

The hotel is not far from the Maracanã Stadium. The stage for tomorrow’s concert is almost finished. As usual, one side of the stands was abandoned. Therefore, this stadium with a capacity of 100,000 people can sell about 75,000 tickets. According to the company's data, nearly 50,000 boxes, seats and "stand tickets" in front of the stage have been sold. Tomorrow should be able to sell more than 50,000, and I must be dissatisfied with the seats, but the results have already made Anshuze very overjoyed.

Of course, it's incomparable to MJ's "monster" who sold 75,000 tickets and actually poured in 80,000 spectators.

"Is that the beautiful girl in your MV?"

Mira pointed to the person who was hanging above and asked. The stage was preparing for the rehearsal of Earned It, and Mira thought it was Charis.

"No, I hired a professional acrobat, uh, also a rookie singer, signed to Babyface's LAFACE record, he lent it to me temporarily."

Song Yachao beckoned and shouted, "Pink! No problem, right?"

"Little meaning." The girl rolled over gently on the sling.

"My old lady tomorrow..." At this time, Fergie was dragging away from the backstage while talking to William Adams and other gang singers, and immediately found Mila next to her.

The enemy was extremely jealous when she saw each other, Mila leaned closer to her arms, and met her eyes.

"Bi Chi." Fergie, who had already left the forest, didn't make any special expressions. She cursed while carrying the belt of low-rise hot pants, and then continued to chat with people around her.

Mira also did not say a word that stimulated each other, both of them were mature.

Fortunately, Song Ya secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

"APLUS! APLUS! APLUS!"

The next day, the concert opened smoothly. The strong white spotlights could not illuminate the specially designed dense fog effect. There was no music. Latin girls crowded in front of the stage like canned sardines shouted frantically on the empty stage.

"call……"

Song Ya took the microphone and sat on a stool next to a dry ice fog machine on the side of the stage, adjusting his breathing evenly.

"Band? OK."

Communication between the director and other people kept coming from the intercom.

"accordion?"

Here, the first song can only be Ai Se Eu Te Pego. The accordion accompaniment came from behind, patted his shoulder friendly, and walked into the smoke on the stage.

"APLUS is ready."

"Roger that."

He took a deep breath, checked his wear, makeup, and ear back one last time, and then went to the center of the stage to stand.

The shouts of the fans were deafening enough, and at this time they couldn't see themselves.

Subconsciously touching the buttocks, the popularity of male stars in Latin America these years is similar to the solid-color tight shirts and trousers or jeans tied on the body. The body must be good, and it is best to add a straight squat.

When American male stars come to make money, they always wear beach-style floral shirts based on stereotypes, or they are fancy costumes with Latin American dance elements. They will certainly not make that kind of arrogant mistakes, and they have enough capital.

"Count down, 3, 2, 1... GO!" The director gave an order.

The accordionist on the front side walked forward out of the dense fog, and at the same time began to draw a simple and beautiful prelude to Ai Se Eu Te Pego.

"Ah! Ah!"

The fans suddenly became restless like a boiling oil pan, Song Ya felt that the spotlights hanging above the stage were shaking and trembling.

"Nossa, nossa..."

Find the beat and jump out in the most handsome pose while singing, "Assim você me mata!"

He saw countless faces of women who were so excited that they were distorted by men. Not far from the stage, they screamed and jumped, rushing forward frantically, like waves hitting rocks.

"Ai se eu te pego, Ai ai se eu te pego..."

With a bright smile, she bent over and picked one of the hands that stretched out towards her. The lucky girl was so strong that she almost pulled herself off, so she changed to a high five and ran from one side of the stage to the other. .

"Come on!"

Fans here will follow the simple hand movements made by the original MV. After the demonstration, they will all learn to echo them neatly.

"Delícia, delícia, Assim você me mata..."

This saliva song really seems to be a metropolis of all Brazilians. More than 50,000 people sang in a group chorus, and the cooperation on stage and off stage was perfect.