Chapter 120: The So-Called Bankrupt Shrunken Version of Zhou Yi

"Drifting north, don't ask about my hometown

"Towering ancient walls can't block the sorrow~

"I drift north, is my family safe?

"The heavy pack on my shoulders is filled with melancholy~"

In the capital, inside a certain dark, lightless basement.

From an old tape recorder came Tan Jing's soul-penetrating looping chant; the man sitting listlessly by the bed, extinguishing cigarette after cigarette, had slightly reddened eyes.

Not yet thirty, the short buzzcut he'd shaved to save money already revealed conspicuous white hairs under the dim yellow light.

The low-quality pirated tape already showed severe cracking and distortion when Zhou Yi's sharp rap began, yet the man seemed not to hear, still smoking cigarette after cigarette.

Only the right hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly as emotions surged.

"Some say he owes a pile of money back home and needs to lay low

"Some say he mastered martial arts but never got a chance to shine

"Some lost themselves, at a loss, drifting everywhere

"Some for dreams, for three meals, to feed the family..."

Zhou Yi's voice, looped through countless times, finally broke through the man's dammed psychological defenses this time; the lyrics, simple yet every word a pearl, stabbed his chest like a knife, and he could not resist.

His eyes were clearly red, yet he could not cry out.

Leaving home and native soil, coming to the capital, this first-tier city where one can earn money, sharing a lightless basement with others, learning to be a painter.

Daily meals were only slightly better than eating chaff and swallowing vegetables; working a month earned only a few dozen yuan, and the master who took him in had to take a portion.

Even so, he had to save on food and clothing to send some money home, because his family still had a younger brother and a younger sister.

He originally thought he could endure it, still smiling happily every day.

Until his roommate brought back a pirated tape, saying it was a song by Zhou Yi that was very popular last year, just listen to it casually. After all, the genuine version was too expensive; one CD was a month's wages for them, one cassette was a third of a month's wages.

By comparison, the pirated tape his roommate brought back cost only a few jiao.

Because it was rented from a small pirated audio-video shop at the crossroads.

Two jiao to rent for a day; one yuan to listen for five days.

For Yao Li, someone who would rather wear the same outfit all year round, this was already his most luxurious daily indulgence.

Listening to those tales of love and romance, imagining galloping across the Jianghu, settling scores with swift justice.

Everything was fine at first, but today Zhou Yi's song "Drifting North" broke his defenses.

"Damn it, why sing so well..."

After extinguishing the cigarette butt in his hand once more, Yao Li washed his face, cursed Zhou Yi, but upon turning and seeing the cassette box his roommate had placed on the table, he still noted the young man on the cover who seemed to be in a different world from himself, and went out.

"Hey? Brother Yao? You here to rent movies too?"

Inside the small audio-video shop at the crossroads, a young man holding a disc saw Yao Li and, speaking Mandarin with a Hebei accent, smiled and greeted him.

"Not yet, Baoqiang. I'm not interested in watching movies today."

Yao Li scratched his head, then turned his gaze to the old man sitting by the counter fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan: "Rent a Zhou Yi CD, 'Jiangnan'."

"None left, all rented out. If you want to rent, come early in two days."

The old man, whose ears had already grown calloused from hearing the name "Zhou Yi" these past days, spoke without looking up: "The 'Jiangnan' cassette returning soonest is in two days.

"If you want it now, the big shop three streets over sells genuine copies."

"..."

He did want to buy the genuine copy.

Speechless, Yao Li could only plan to return in two days; just as he was about to decide to come back in two days, that Hebei youth named Baoqiang spoke up—

"Brother Yao, you want 'Jiangnan'? I have one over there. If you want to use it, I can lend it to you for a few days."

Wang Baoqiang, who had just arrived in the capital seeking opportunities, smiled and said: "Someone gave it to me when I visited a film crew last time, but two songs are unlistenable now, very harsh."

"Can 'Drifting North' and 'Jiangnan' be heard?"

"Of course they can!"

"Fine, lend it to me for a few days."

Among the vast community of drifters in the capital, the popularity and love for the song "Drifting North" even surpassed the first single of Zhou Yi's current album, "Jiangnan".

However, most, like Yao Li and Wang Baoqiang, listened to pirated copies.

Those truly willing to spend money to buy genuine CDs or cassettes were only those drifters who had made a bit more money.

Among them, bar singers were the main force in the drifter community buying genuine albums—

For example, Huang Bo, who fell into debt due to business bankruptcy, was forced to flee his hometown again, returning to the capital to earn money and repay debts.

After starring in his childhood friend's film "Get On, Let's Go" last year, his situation did not change drastically; this year, he still pursued both paths as a house singer and an extra.

And as a bar house singer, Zhou Yi's newly released album naturally became the key repertoire for him to sing and make money.

As a legendary part-time singer in the capital's bar scene, after Zhou Yi became famous, his experience of singing for money in various breweries when he first arrived in the capital to save his first pot of gold had long spread.

Of course, after the 1998 World Cup ended, Zhou Yi's so-called part-time singing was purely for fun.

Huang Bo had heard more than once the amazing stories in bars about wealthy women throwing money just to win Zhou Yi over and sleep with him for a few days.

Every night when it was quiet, Huang Bo, listening to Zhou Yi's songs and learning them, felt somewhat emotional.

Back then, wherever Zhou Yi went, people begged him to sing; bar owners even paid just to keep him, and all kinds of pretty girls threw themselves at him, living daily life said to be like the Emperor selecting concubines.

What about him? His singing wasn't bad either; he was still the house singer in the bar circle recognized for being able to sing those few songs of Zhou Yi's not yet recorded into albums with emotion.

Though not without women, the quality could only be described as barely satisfactory, and the quantity was not large.

Unless he used money.

However, singing didn't earn him much big money either.

As someone who had formed a band long ago, Huang Bo, who longed to become a music industry superstar, had more than once used Zhao Chuan to encourage himself, but cruel reality had beaten him to a pulp.

And now, Zhou Yi's new album, with its track "Drifting North," has truly driven him to the brink of depression.

He could almost perfectly project himself into the experiences of this song.

"Sigh..."

Watching the MV in Zhou Yi's new album, Huang Bo, who had just started learning the songs, slapped himself twice, trying hard to stop his wild thoughts; he should just focus on learning Zhou Yi's songs well first.

He still had to rely on Zhou Yi's songs to make money for food and pay rent.

Thanks to his vocal skills and abundant emotion, even though he didn't look the part, he could at least style himself as a bankrupt, shrunk-down version of Little Zhou Yi on the bar street.

In fact, the owner of the bar where he performed as a resident singer had always promoted him that way.

After all, the real Zhou Yi wouldn't be coming back anyway; cashing in on the resemblance to earn some food money wasn't shameful.

Until—

"What did you say? There's a Little Zhou Yi singing on the bar street who's somewhat famous? First Weekly plans to dig up dirt on me over there?"

June 21.

Having just finished his own concert in the Imperial Capital, he realized First Weekly wouldn't dig up anything on the bar street. They couldn't just misidentify someone; that would only make him die even faster.

He was suing for defamation.

The news written in those media outlets didn't mention the big sisters he knew on the bar street; at worst, he could hold a press conference and, at the very least, make a PPT to prove his innocence.

PS: Still five chapters tomorrow.

PS2: Forced to work overtime remotely tonight, damn it!

And no overtime pay!

(End of this chapter)