Chapter 43: The Rock Version of Little Bird!

Half past four.

The Dazzling Stage closed, and the Ideal Stage opened.

As the audience’s gaze shifted to the Ideal Stage, a restless voice seemed to rise from all directions: “Life may be gone, but the soul remains...”

This line was sung a cappella by Garen, and immediately after, a grand, sweeping electronic synthesizer sound slowly built up. In that instant, many in the crowd began to shout, howling their excitement.

Liu Nan was chatting with Zhang Weiwei in a private dressing room when he heard the song. He checked his watch. “Huh? Is it Garen’s turn to sing? Is this his song?”

Zhang Weiwei shook her head. “I don’t know! Let’s go take a look!”

The two stepped out, noticing that many other singers and musicians were also heading out, curious to see who was performing.

Even the members of Sparrow Legend stepped out, but when they saw Garen on the big screen, their faces darkened and they turned back to their lounge.

“I was born with sorrow, but you make me strong!”

Garen clutched his electric guitar, strumming a chord that thundered like a roaring tiger, and then he shouted out, “Oh! Chang’an! Chang’an!!”

His powerful voice echoed through the air.

Liu Nan couldn’t help but exclaim, “Not bad! This song has such power!”

“What a kid—he really knows how to play with music!” Zhang Weiwei, a rock musician herself once hailed as the first black-voiced female singer in China, had seen her career derailed years ago by a scandal involving narcotics. Though she had turned over a new leaf after her release from prison, a broadcasting ban kept her from television, confining her performances to music festivals like this one.

She had witnessed too many ups and downs in this industry. Many promising newcomers lost themselves in their early successes, only to be forced out of the field. For rock musicians in particular, it seemed that sex and drugs were inescapable, forming a vicious cycle.

Watching Garen pour his heart into the performance, she felt a complicated mix of emotions. Another newcomer had arrived, but no one could say how long he would last. In music, you could rely on no one but yourself.

Onstage, Garen finished his first song and finally introduced himself. “Hello, everyone. My name is Garen. I’m not much of a talker, so I’ll keep singing! The next song is called ‘The You from Back Then’!”

Upon hearing this, Liu Nan nudged Zhang Weiwei. “Here it is! This is the one I love!”

“Oh?” Zhang Weiwei perked up, knowing that any song Liu Nan singled out had to be extraordinary. She listened intently.

“I once dreamed of wandering the world with my sword!
To see all the world’s splendor!
The young heart is always a little wild!
Now you call the four seas your home!
The girl who once made your heart ache
Has quietly vanished without a trace!
Love always leaves you longing and troubled!
Once, you were hurt all over...”

This was a classic pop-rock song, easily accessible to the audience. At this time of day, the festival crowd was a mix of raucous young revelers and earnest fans drawn by a particular band or singer. Despite the range of ages, everyone could relate to the song’s themes of youthful dreams and fearless pursuit.

Whether it was their first time hearing it or not, the music struck a chord with all. The melody was so compelling that anyone who heard it once was instantly drawn in. The level of emotion varied—some felt a fleeting stir in their hearts, while others wept uncontrollably.

Unlike his earlier bar performances, Garen seemed to have discovered new meaning in the song, finding deeper resonance in the lyrics.

Most people listened just for pleasure, but only true musicians or those seeking something special would dissect the song, exploring every nuance.

At that moment, Liu Nan closed his eyes and listened, the crowd’s noise fading until only Garen’s music remained.

Zhang Weiwei’s expression changed even more—shock, then confusion—as memories of her own passion for music and rock, her lost youth, and even her cellmates behind iron bars flashed through her mind.

Scenes from the past flickered in her mind, and tears welled up in her eyes. The song inspired a rush of ideas—she felt an irresistible urge to write music again.

After finishing “The You from Back Then,” Garen set aside his electric guitar. Damao handed him an acoustic-electric. The atmosphere quieted as he stood center stage, playing and singing “Memories of Zhengzhou” and “When Fireworks Fade.”

Many in the audience were surprised to hear “When Fireworks Fade”—they hadn’t realized Garen was the original singer.

Online, “When Fireworks Fade” was the most widely shared song, a result of aggressive promotion by Five-Star Music Network. Their streaming app, CoolCloud, was hugely popular. Not only had CoolCloud created a special feature for the song, but using its “random play” function always brought up “When Fireworks Fade” as the first track.

As Garen sang, everyone suddenly realized—oh! This is his song!

Such is the awkward fate of a hit song whose singer remains unknown.

But the most astonishing thing was how many people sang along.

Hearing their voices, Garen smiled, feeling a warmth and gratitude inside.

Unlike the recorded version, Garen added an original rap at the end. He flashed a cool hip-hop gesture, gripping the mic and reciting:

“Rain falls and the old home grows wild with grass,
I heard you’ve always been alone,
Moss clings to the city gate, old roots curl beneath,
Echoes on the stone slabs: wait a bit longer,
Rain falls, rain falls, the old home grows wild with grass!
I heard, I heard, you still guard this lonely city...”

The audience, who had been singing along, was caught off guard by the sudden rap and burst into laughter and surprise.

Even Liu Nan and Zhang Weiwei exchanged startled glances, momentarily at a loss.

Among the invited underground rappers, some frowned, while others were amazed. “Damn! You can do that?”

Liu Nan came to his senses and asked Zhang Weiwei, “What do you think?”

“Pretty bold!” Zhang Weiwei laughed. “Music needs innovation!”

“I agree!” Liu Nan stroked his chin. “Sigh, maybe we’re getting old!”

“Haha, come on now!” Zhang Weiwei gave his shoulder a playful swat. “I know what you’re thinking. If you want to ask him for a song, you’d better hurry. Once he really blows up, you won’t be able to afford him—or even get in touch!”

Liu Nan chuckled. “I know, I know!”

Even after Garen finished “When Fireworks Fade,” many in the crowd were still caught up in that unexpected rap.

Twenty minutes had passed; only ten remained. Garen decided to heat up the atmosphere and announced, “It’s time for rock and roll. Honestly, this next song isn’t really rock, but I’ve rearranged it for today. Hope you like it!”

Before anyone could process his words, an electric guitar wailed like a wild horse, the sound thinning out as Garen drew a deep breath and cried, “I am just a tiny, tiny bird...”

He’d only sung that one line when a barrage of drums crashed down like a tempest, brilliant notes surging forth in a torrent. The new-metal rock sound instantly electrified the crowd.

Everyone forgot about the earlier rap and threw themselves into the music. This was the magic of rock. The rockers in the crowd joined in, reveling in the energy—this was the style they loved.

Even before he finished singing, the audience began pogoing—bodies colliding, swaying wildly. Some dove into the plaza fountain, and bold young women began stripping off layers. From the far end of the square, more people raced toward the stage. Night hadn’t even fallen, but the party was already in full swing.

It had to be said, the Jupiter Band played a huge role. They were true rock musicians, masters of this style, and their input had shaped much of the arrangement.

With the venue ablaze, Garen threw caution to the wind, running to the very front of the stage and climbing onto the feedback monitor, high above the crowd, singing into the mic:

“Sometimes I feel like I am just a tiny bird!
I want to fly, but no matter how I try, I can’t fly high!
Maybe one day I’ll perch on a branch, only to become the hunter’s target!
I soar to the sky, only to find myself utterly alone!”

Garen leaped from the stage. The staff rushed over with a pickup truck—brought in just for singers who liked to jump off the stage. Garen didn’t hesitate, jumping straight onto the truck bed.

Now, separated from the audience by only a meter, all eyes were fixed on him.

“When midnight comes and the world is quiet,
I find it hard to sleep!
I wonder if I’m the only one whose tomorrow never gets any better!
What will the future be? Who really knows!
Is happiness just a legend I’ll never find?”

“E-on!” Garen shouted, still unsatisfied, and jumped onto the truck’s hood. The staff and security panicked, crowding around the front, afraid he might fall.

Garen, unfazed, leaned forward and pointed at the audience, singing at the top of his voice:

“All of you who know my name, how are you?
The world is so small—there’s nowhere to hide!
When I’ve tasted the world’s coldness, when you decide to burn for your dreams,
Which matters more—life’s pressure or dignity?
I am just a tiny, tiny bird!
I want to fly, but I can’t fly high!
I search and search, seeking a warm embrace!
Is that too much to ask...?”