Gone With the Wind

Fu Cuo immediately regretted calling. If he didn’t call him, the annoyed one would be Sui Qingchi. He knew Sui Qingchi too well. 

Of course, the fact may also be that Sui Qingchi knows him better and that he will jump into his trap as long as there’s something related to West Wind.

“Fu Cuo,” A bartender opened the door and pointed out, “Someone is looking for you.”

He went out in wonder. A young man with spiky hair at the bar smiled and waved towards him.

“AK?”

After West Wind disbanded, AK didn’t join other bands. Usually, other than teaching people to play drums in a private music classroom, AK often filled in as a stand-in for fixed cooperative bands.

Fu Cuo put a large glass of beer in front of him. “I’ll treat you.”

AK was not polite either. He took a big drink and started the conversation. “Have you heard that Sui Qingchi is trying to get West Wind back together?”

Fu nodded, “Whatever. It’s not like we’re permanently registered as West Wind anyway.”

AK scratched his head in annoyance and tutted, “Do you think he was stimulated by something? I really don’t get why he’s trying to stir things up when he could just enjoy his fame as the King.”

Fu Cuo stayed silent. He felt that AK didn’t come to him to discuss old friends. He didn’t want to rush the topic in the direction of Sui Qingchi. After so long, AK might think he was relieved, but he really wasn’t. “You didn’t come to me just to talk about him right? Get to the point.”

AK really sat closer to the bar and asked, “You’ve heard of The Golden Voice, right?”

The Golden Voice is a singing talent show. In the past two years, the talent show has changed the soup without changing the dressing. Fu Cuo hasn’t been interested in it for a long time and hasn’t even seen the first issue.

AK, with a slight twinkle in his eyes then said, “Well! I met this boy who’s crazy good at singing. I want to help him qualify in that competition. He really has a lot of potential!”

Fu Cuo was a little surprised. He didn’t understand where AK’s untimely enthusiasm came from. His heart said, ‘Are you so old that you start looking for a thousand mile horse like Bole[1]?’

AK said a lot of things with great pride. He understood the meaning. This guy wanted to help the child on The Golden Voice, but he was a drummer after all, and was not good at singing. So he wanted to ask him to help with guidance.

“I’m a guitarist,” Fu Cuo said. “Shouldn’t you find a singer to guide him?”

“Among the people I know, there are no singers who can help me. Oh, and after all, you’re a CTR graduate, and you even guided Sui Qingchi before.”

When Fu Cuo heard the name, his heart skipped a beat and said, ‘Can you not say it like that?’

“But I’m not a professional singer. My major in CTR wasn’t vocal music.” He said.

“Then you can teach him the theoretical stuff, like pronunciation skills and singing techniques. Although the child sings well, he’s kind of wild. He can probably enter the competition by himself. I just hope to help him go further. Think about it, it will be a pity if the judges end up choosing him but he doesn’t know the first thing about music theory or how to even read a score!”

Fu Cuo didn’t reply. He really wanted to ask this man, ‘haven’t you eaten enough of the losses in the draft competition?’

“Ah right, I have his picture.” AK picked up his mobile phone, turned it over and handed it to him. “Not only does he sing well, but he also has red[2] capital.”

When Fu Cuo saw the picture, he was a bit stunned. The boy was very handsome. He reminded him of Sui Qingchi when he was younger.

AK stared at Fu Cuo and said carefully, “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mean to hide it from you. He is indeed a bit like Sui Qingchi. To be honest, even some of his personality is a little like Sui Qingchi. But in essence, he is completely different. Besides, you also know that his resemblance to Sui Qingchi shows that he has red potential.”

Fu Cuo looked at the picture and smiled bitterly. For example, how does he represent potential? Sui Qingchi’s fire up to now, has everyone’s definition of red been distorted?

To give AK some face, Fu Cuo still decided to go and meet this younger version of Sui Qingchi. At that time, he felt it was inappropriate to refuse again, which seemed insincere. AK was very happy. As soon as he left the bar, he called the boy named Zhong Dao and got a message that the other user wasn’t available right now. The embarrassed drummer frowned and scolded, “Smelly boy, let him keep doing that!”

Fu Cuo shrugged, “If that’s the attitude, I think it’s better to forget it.”

AK grabbed him, “No, I know where he lives. I promise I won’t let you run for nothing!”

Fu Cuo, who sent the Buddha to the west[3], followed AK to the boy’s home. Walking to the noisy and crowded old residential area, there are still people splashing water for washing vegetables and meat on the roadside. The dirty water with blood bubbles flowed along the teeth of the road, but it doesn’t affect the appetite of the residents sitting on the street.

It reminds him of his childhood hometown, where he and tans met. The sun was just right that day. He was lying on the window and looked at the rain shield downstairs. A black cat caught a mouse and began to enjoy its lunch. The cat peeled off the mouse skin. At that moment, he ‘eep’-ed and looked away. When he looked up, he saw a boy lying on the window of the opposite building. They saw and smiled at each other.

“Here we are,” AK said.

Fu Cuo looked up and saw that the building was broken and old. The dark balcony was covered with dark barbed wire. It looked like a cage. He really couldn’t think of how somehow grew up in such an environment.

AK knocked on the door for a while before he heard an old man asking, ‘Who is it?’ He turned to Fu Cuo and said, “He lives with his grandfather…”

The small window on the door opened coldly, and behind the window was a pair of wrinkled eyes. AK approached and asked, “Grandpa, is Zhong Dao there?” But the old man seemed to not have heard him due to his poor hearing. The two men talked together for a long time. The old man was alert and refused to open the door. He’d say ‘I don’t know you’ back and forth, until he finally waved for them to leave, and slammed the small window shut.

Fu Cuo looked back at AK and smiled.

When he went downstairs, AK said to him with a depressed face that he was sorry. Although he came for nothing, he was in a good mood. Fu Cuo looked over at the basketball court that they passed. There was also such a court in the block where they lived when they were young. It couldn’t be officially called a basketball court, but a basketball frame was erected in the open space and it was full of dazzling human care.

A boy walked out of the court with a ball under his arm. AK suddenly stopped in front and shouted like a big rabbit standing up, “Hey!!”

The boy turned his head when he heard the sound. It took Fu Cuo a little time to recognize that this was the boy in the picture. It’s not that he has bad eyesight, nor was it that the picture has been wrong. Its just that the boy is black and blue at the moment[4].

AK strode over, grabbed the collar of the boy’s T-shirt and said, “Why didn’t you pick up? What are you doing fighting with those gangsters again?!”

“It’s none of your business, Uncle[5].” The boy pulled back his collar impatiently. “I didn’t ask you to help me fight.”

When the two of them said a word to each other, Fu Cuo squatted on the ground with a smile. AK and the boy looked at him. Fu Cuo looked up and said to AK, “You’re right. They’re really similar.”

The three found a restaurant and had a late lunch. Fu Cuo asked Zhong Dao, “Do you want to participate in that competition?”

Zhong Dao ate the dish with interest, “Can I even get in?”

“I don’t know,” Fu Cuo said. “Why don’t you go to the bar with me later and sing live? That way I can see and know if you can go.”

The boy frowned and didn’t speak. AK hit him, “Hey, say something!”

Zhong Dao stared at him, “I’m thinking!”

Fu Cuo held back his smile and said to take his time while eating.

AK asked the acute child, “What do you have to think about? Don’t you want to be a singer?”

Zhong Dao was rarely silent and said, “I want to be a singer, but I’m not sure if I’m on the right path.”

Fu Cuo casually took a chopstick dish and asked, “Why aren’t you sure?”

“I don’t like the show.”

“I don’t like it either,” Fu Cuo put down his chopsticks. “The commercial flavor of the show is very strong. The sponsors of the TV program group just want to make money from you. But then again, you want money, education, and grass roots[6] without contacts. What way can you go except the show?”

“Isn’t it possible to play in an underground band like you?”

Fu Cuo nodded, “Yes, you can. Now you are like us. One is running around and the other sings in a bar. I have no problem if you like it.” Then he took a sip of beer and picked up his chopsticks. “Of course, if you don’t want to participate, I’ll be happier. Then I don’t have to let you go to my bar to listen to you sing. Maybe we’ll be embarrassed when you finish singing.”

Zhong Dao looked up at him, the stubbornness in his eyes imminent. “I’ll go.”

Today is the weekend. The attendance rate of the bar is very high. Zhong Dao asked curiously, “Are they all for the resident band?”

“You overestimate us.” Fu Cuo said.

Actually, they’re not really a band. They just come here to work together and find a bowl of rice to eat. They barely count as colleagues. In addition to him, There is a Shadow-like figure who’s the keyboard player and Xiaoman who’s the bass player. Shadow teaches in an art school during the day, while Xiaoman is still in college. Here you’d only have to sing whatever people order. You don’t even need to rehearse. Most of the time, the audience won’t hear it seriously anyway. It’s far from a serious band.

He didn’t know how he could suddenly think so much.

He looked at Zhong Dao, who was drinking water to moisten his throat. He could see that the boy pretended to be natural and unrestrained. But in fact, he was still a little nervous. He probably never sang in front of so many people, so Fu Cuo asked, “Have anyone told you how you look like a star?”

Zhong Dao sneered, “The Chuunibyou King?”

Fu Cuo made a sound in his heart.

“I am me, he is him, and I don’t like him at all.” Zhong Dao said.

“Why?”

“Just because you all say I’m like him. What’s the point of being like him? He only has a face and voice. It’s good to honestly sing the song given to him by others. His voice is so great, but he doesn’t know how to cherish it. He smokes until his voice is hoarse. He works all day. He’s so famous that he can’t stop getting prizes, although those awards don’t mean anything.” Zhong Dao smiled sarcastically. “God is so kind to him. He doesn’t know how many people can’t even go on the stage he stands on right now.”

“It doesn’t sound like you hate him very much.”

“What, do you want me to say that I like him so you’ll help me? Do you like him?” Without waiting for Fu Cuo’s answer, he frowned. “You like him, don’t you? You think I’m like him so you want to help me, right?”

Fu Cuo was dumbstruck, he didn’t expect to be generalized like that. How does one say to his face that he looks exactly like Sui Qingchi in the past? How will this boy react?

“I’m helping you for AK’s sake.” He said, “It doesn’t matter whether I like Sui Qingchi or not.”

“I’ll say thank you first,” Zhong Dao nodded and then said, “But I’m not asking you to help me.” Then he put on his coat and walked out of the backstage.

As soon as the people waiting to listen to the song in the bar saw a new face, they were still complaining ‘Who’s this boy‘ But when Zhong Dao began to sing, less than four bars later, all doubts subsided. The first song requested is《Closer》by the Chainsmoker. It was requested by a foreign guest. Coincidentally, Sui Qingchi once sang this song. Fu Cuo couldn’t help but compare it in his mind. When Zhong Dao began to sing, he still couldn’t let go. The small explosion before entering the chorus made him relax and brought the audience into his rhythm. His flow is different from Sui Qingchi, and his way of enjoying singing is also different. Zhong Dao is immersed in his own singing and immerses himself in music. On the contrary, Sui Qingchi’s interpretation is not so narcissistic. He is giving and better at expression. Fu Cuo can’t tell which is better for a moment. But he knows that Zhong Dao is very good.

That night, he sang one song after another. Fu Cuo was able to understand his overall ability. Zhong Dao sang in an unrestrained way. Even this is very similar to Sui Qingchi. When Sui Qingchi first sang the song Closer when he was the main vocalist in West Wind, some lyrics were sung with a sense of dialogue, which was surprisingly pleasant. His way of reading was different from rap. It had an unpredictable rhythm. Lazy and casual, but wild and beautiful. The fans under the stage exploded at once. After coming down, he was asked why he changed his singing method. Sui Qingchi said that his throat was a little stuck just now, so he had to make do. Just a little stuck in his throat… Sui Qingchi at that time didn’t even know how much talent for improvisation needed to do that.

Zhong Dao’s timbre is a little thinner than that of Sui Qingchi’s, but he seems to lose to Sui Qingchi in range. This is very obvious. Sui Qingchi is a genius who can sing the songs of female singers without effort. Although his treble and transition aren’t as natural as Sui Qingchi, they can be improved through training.

His biggest weakness is expressiveness. This part is pure natural ability that no one can teach. If just anyone could express a song like Sui Qingchi through training, Sui Qingchi wouldn’t be the King right now.

“You play the guitar really well.”

After the performance that day, Zhong Dao’s attitude towards him changed 180 degrees. He even saw a desperately repressed worship in the boy’s eyes, which was also funny.

“Just so-so,” He said with his back to Zhong Dao, pretending not to care.

“Being too modest is hypocritical,” Zhong Dao skimmed his mouth.

“Well,” Fu picked up his guitar.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to guide me?” Asked Zhong Dao.

“Singing is not my specialty,” Fu Cuo said. “You sing better than me.” He thought with his guitar case in his arms, “If I have to give advice, your singing sounds very comfortable, but it’s not immersive enough.”

Zhong Dao frowned, “How do I practice immersion?”

Fu Cuo shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s very mysterious. I can’t explain it clearly like writing a paper. Come to me often to sing in the future. If guests order songs, they must have some emotional expectations. You can observe the reaction of the people who listen to your songs. When they can sing and cry, they won’t be able to listen for themselves. Of course, they will be praising you before ordering songs.”

Zhong Dao nodded thoughtfully and said, “Ok.”

The two left the bar together. On the way back, Zhong Dao suddenly asked, “When you were in that band, did the vocalist sing well?”

Fu Cuo didn’t really want to answer, so he perfunctorily said, “We had several vocalists. Which one are you talking about?”

Zhong Dao rolled his eyes in the back, thinking that this man was playing with him. He hasn’t heard much of it, so he said, “The one you think sings best.”

Fu Cuo was silent for a while. Zhong Dao was more stubborn than he thought. Instead of getting tangled, he might as well answer truthfully, “Of course.”

“You don’t contact each other now?”

“We had different ideas and parted ways.”

Zhong Dao hesitated for a moment and asked with some concern, “Am I far from him?”

Fu Cuo wanted to say don’t dream, you can’t compare with him, but he immediately frowned again. He doesn’t think he should praise Sui Qingchi so much, and Zhong Dao probably hopes he can give some suggestions.

“We had a few vocalists, and the best one was the main one.” Walking under the streetlamp, there was darkness all around, and there was a sense of secret security. Fu Cuo said, “His singing can make five big and three thick men cry like a little girl under the stage. I also wanted to know how he did it. At first, I guessed that it might have something to do with his timbre, but his voice isn’t very clear…”

The moon is very bright tonight. Sui Qingchi’s voice sometimes reminds him of the moon. If it is pure and flawless, it may be beautiful, but it cannot attract people’s long-term gaze and thoughts. It must have shadows and scars, so that when the air strikes these scars, it will be rubbed with curved sparks.

“Having a tearful voice doesn’t necessarily make people cry. Later, I thought, probably because he has a wide range and strong sense of sound. Singing is as natural and effortless as speaking and breathing for him, so when other singers still want to sing this treble and deal with this transition naturally, he doesn’t care about them at all. People usually need more time to understand the song and lyrics, but it’s even more strange to think about it because he doesn’t seem to take this step at all. Take the lyrics to him, and he can sing it immediately after reading it. He has also sung Japanese and French songs that he doesn’t understand, which can also move people to a mess. These are not the answers.”

“Have you found the answer then?” Asked Zhong Dao.

Fu Cuo shook his head, “Nope, that’s why he’s the main vocalist, and I’m just a guitarist.”

 

He’s the brightest star in the sky,

and I’m just a derailed satellite.

References

References↑1From the saying 伯樂相馬 (乐马) bó lè xiàng mǎ lit. Bole judges a horse. Means to be an outstanding judge of someone’s (hidden) gifts or talent.↑2Money or success. Basically saying he has the face to get big/popular ig.↑3Finishing a given task, not giving up in the middle.↑4Literally. He got beat up lol.↑5Not literally. They’re not related. Its just used to refer to an older person, in this case, in a casual/joking manner. Think ‘ahjussi‘ in Korean.↑6A foundation.