Chapter 5: Chili Pepper Live Stream!

Galen could hardly believe it; he hadn’t expected to be able to keep the tips for himself! This wasn’t an opportunity just any bar would provide. Typically, bars split singer tips fifty-fifty, and some performers didn’t even get half. He hadn’t imagined Wen Tao would be so generous, but on second thought, it made sense. This was meant to encourage him—after all, unlike Wu Yusheng and the others, Galen hadn’t gained any fame from competitions. Whether anyone would request his songs remained to be seen.

Among this group, Galen was the only one who hadn’t appeared on “Dreams of Stardom.” The others had already released their songs and tested them against the ears of fans; some even enjoyed a degree of popularity. For instance, Wu Yusheng had a single, “Love’s Bitter Triangle,” released after his competition days, which had already earned him a following.

In short, Galen’s songs were being revealed to the public for the first time tonight, and he was the only one who needed to rehearse with the band. Twenty minutes before the show, the three band members went on stage and took their instruments: an acoustic bass, a piano, and a boxy Cajón drum.

Galen held his guitar and brought out the sheet music he’d prepared. The musicians glanced at it—just enough to check the key and chords—then looked away. They were all seasoned improvisers, never ones to follow the original arrangements too strictly.

They started with “The You of the Past.” As Galen played and sang, the three musicians joined in seamlessly. After just one run-through, they flashed him an OK sign.

Rehearsing all three songs took just over ten minutes. No sooner had Galen sat down in the dressing room than his phone buzzed. It was Cai Fei. As soon as he answered, Cai Fei shouted, “When does your bar open? We’ve been waiting ages, and there are still so many fans outside holding signs!”

It wasn’t just Wen Tao’s fans who had come; the other singers had also promoted the event on their social media, naturally drawing plenty of local fans from Beijing.

“Oh, there are a few talent show singers tonight, including the owner here. So of course there are lots of fans,” Galen replied casually.

Unexpectedly, Liu Qianqian happened to walk by and overheard him. She didn’t make a scene or tell the other singers, just snorted and walked off quickly.

For them, the title of “talent show singer” was both a calling card and a scar. But the road was their own choice—there was nothing to be done about what others called them.

Cai Fei, on the other end, lost his irritation when he heard the explanation. “There are celebrities? Well, fine. We’ll keep waiting.”

As soon as the call ended, eight o’clock struck, and the bar’s doors opened. Seven or eight security guards stood at the entrance as the crowd was let in.

Admission was 298 yuan per person, with two beers and a packet of popcorn included.

Cai Fei led a group of more than a dozen men and women inside. Thanks to their imposing martial arts class physiques, they managed to secure prime spots near the front. Instantly, the girls Wang Qilin had brought were all aflutter.

Originally, Wang Qilin had only planned to invite the girl he liked and her best friend, but unexpectedly, she’d brought her entire dorm. Wang Qilin worried Cai Fei would be annoyed, but instead, the guys were all competing to be attentive, and Cai Fei himself kept showing off his generosity, even praising Wang Qilin’s thoughtfulness in private.

Wang Qilin found the whole situation both amusing and exasperating.

Galen couldn’t sit still in the dressing room. Except for the occasional word from Wu Yusheng, no one spoke to him; the others chatted about amusing moments from their time on the show, which Galen had never experienced and had nothing to add to. He decided to leave the dressing room and see if there was anywhere on stage he could help.

When he found Wen Tao filming with his phone, Galen couldn’t help but ask, “Wen, you’re filming selfies at a time like this?”

“You don’t get it,” Wen Tao said, pulling Galen into frame. Speaking to his phone camera, he continued, “Hello, everyone! This is Galen, one of our performers tonight. He’ll be bringing you a special surprise!”

Galen glanced at Wen Tao’s screen. Bullet comments scrolled up rapidly—

“66666… Wen, who’s this fresh-faced cutie?”
“I thought it was all talent show singers—who’s this random guy?”
“So cute! Let’s see if he can sing—won’t take long to find out!”
“No!!! We only want to hear Wen sing!”
“Yeah, everyone else can go away…”
“Don’t say that, the pretty boy looks interesting enough!”
“Does he? Pretty average, honestly.”
“Alright, we’re waiting for the music—when is Wen going live?”
“Hey you, which ‘head’ do you want to see, exactly?”
“…”

The comments flew by—some just posted emojis, some greeted the room, others, already tired of waiting, began to grumble.

This unfamiliar app fascinated Galen. “Wen, are you live-streaming?”

Galen knew about the big domestic live-streaming platforms—names like Doubi, YX, and Yaobrother. Their mobile apps could stream too, but this was the first time he’d seen someone actually using one in real life.

“Yeah! This is Chili Live. Our bar signed a contract with them—five million a year, streaming every night!” Wen Tao sighed. “These days, there are almost as many people watching live streams on their phones as watching TV. Our stream already has a big audience, and it’s probably growing. Even just showing your face here can get you some fans.”

Galen didn’t expect much from this; he’d never heard of any internet streamer being treated like a real star. Usually, the platforms paid celebrities to appear at events.

He joked, “Guess I’ll have to start wearing sunglasses and a mask when I go out, huh?”

“Haha! You’re funny!” Wen Tao started to explain, but seeing Galen was only joking, he just shook his head, laughing. “You’ve got a sense of humor. If you can, tell a few jokes on stage—just be natural, though. If it’s not your style, don’t force it, alright?”

“Alright, I’ll do my best.”

Galen scratched his head and left the stage, realizing he’d just dug himself into a hole.

Wen Tao secured his phone to capture the whole stage. Seeing that the seats below were full, he told the manager beside him, “Xiao Kang, tell everyone to get ready. We’re about to start!”

“Got it!” The manager grabbed his walkie-talkie. “Attention all departments, on my count—three, two, one!”

Instantly, the stage lights dimmed, leaving only one spotlight bathing Wen Tao in a beam of light.

“Good evening, everyone! I’m Wen Tao!”

As soon as he spoke, the fans started shouting his name.

“Thank you all for coming! Tonight is the grand opening of my bar, and I’m announcing: any extra drinks you buy tonight are half price!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

Standing at the dressing room door, Galen couldn’t help but purse his lips. A six-pack of beer here cost 240 yuan—even at half price, it was still expensive!

Wen Tao spoke for a good ten minutes before finally starting to sing.

Galen wasn’t up first, so he returned to the dressing room, put on his headphones, and rehearsed his three “original” songs one last time.

He was scheduled last, and by the time it was his turn, it was nearly half past ten.

Galen took off his headphones, stood up, took a deep breath, and left the dressing room.

On stage, Aya was performing, strumming a ukulele, her diction gentle and soft, filling the room with warmth. When she finished, she stood, bowed, and left the stage. Passing Galen, Aya gave him a high-five—only to be pulled away by Zhao Liang’s glare.

“Let’s thank our lovely, beautiful Aya!” Wen Tao said, before introducing Galen. “Next up, we have a singer who’s just an ordinary bar performer here in Houhai. He’s never been on TV, never released a record, but his original songs are the best I’ve ever heard! Let’s welcome Galen!”

The applause was sparse, with only Cai Fei and his group enthusiastically clapping and cheering.

“All yours, Galen!” Wen Tao smiled as Galen took his seat.

“I’d like to play a song called ‘Those Flowers’ for everyone,” Galen said simply, then began strumming his guitar.

Soft, broken chords flowed out gently, note by note.

Since Galen was a new face, no one applauded or cheered; the atmosphere was calm and quiet, perfectly suited to the song.

“That laughter reminds me of those flowers,
Quietly blooming for me in every corner of my life,
I once thought I’d always guard her side,
But now we’ve drifted apart in a vast sea of people.
They must all be old now,
Where are they?
And so we each set off on our own journeys.
La… thinking of her,
La… is she still blooming?
La… go,
The wind has scattered them to the ends of the earth…”

In the instrumental break, Galen whistled softly, replacing the original flute melody. Though it was his first time performing the song on stage, he’d practiced the whistling many times and, after some thought, decided to use it instead of omitting the flute part altogether. He did the same for the melody at the end.

As for the unintelligible humming in the original version, Galen skipped it, figuring it was in some language from another world—unlearnable and meaningless to him.

When the song ended, the audience remained silent, their emotions slow to recover. Several people quietly wiped away tears.