Chapter Forty-Four: Hypnotized in the Radiant Summer Years (1)

Because it wasn’t the weekend, at eight o’clock the bar was still far from crowded. The warm-up act was said to be a senior from Fudan University, singing and playing his keyboard. Lantern Forest was hardly a top-tier bar; most of its patrons were students or young professionals just entering the workforce, and with modest spending, the bar could not afford to hire acclaimed bands or singers.

To cater to its clientele, the singers and bands at such bars typically performed popular hits—what people often called “saliva songs,” tunes that everyone knew. Even Lantern Forest, with its slight rock leanings, could not ignore this reality if it wanted to make money—death metal? Heavy metal? Unthinkable. Only pop rock and folk had a place in bars. Whatever was trending, that’s what was sung. If you stubbornly clung to your artistic ideals, you’d best find another job.

In the face of money, every musician stands alone.

The male singer on stage was pouring his heart into the latest melancholic ballads. Cheng Xiaoyu and his friends had taken a secluded table to listen. Brother Chen sent over a fruit platter, some drinks, and snacks—none of these high schoolers could drink.

When the singer finished his song, the applause was scant. Cheng Xiaoyu, however, did not hold back his own, not because he thought the performance was outstanding—by his standards, the outdated singing technique and arrangement were a disaster—but because he knew he could not demand of others the standards he had already surpassed. At least the singer was earnest, and that deserved a measure of respect.

When Xia Shamu arrived, Cheng Xiaoyu quickly took her backstage to do her makeup. Lantern Forest was one of the larger bars on Fudan’s bar street, with a first and second floor totaling roughly seven hundred square meters, enough for thirty or so tables—easily accommodating a hundred guests.

Since this was a bar performance, Cheng Xiaoyu gave Xia Shamu a dark, smoky look, a style both cool and edgy, which perfectly matched her short hair and the aloof aura she exuded while singing, resulting in an unexpectedly striking effect.

After finishing her makeup, Cheng Xiaoyu picked up the setting spray and began working on Xia Shamu’s hair. Her short cut was not quite as short as Xu Qinning’s; in fact, it was closer to a medium length, whereas Xu Qinning’s style was almost a boy’s crop. Cheng Xiaoyu parted Xia Shamu’s bangs three-to-seven, tucked the thinner side behind her ear, set it in place with spray, then dusted a little volumizing powder on top to create a slightly tousled, airy look.

He asked Xia Shamu to stand, pulled the crisp white shirt from her school uniform out of her skirt, knotted a slim black tie at her throat, then had her hike her skirt up to make it a bit shorter. Finally, he handed her a pair of knee-high black soccer socks with two white stripes at the top and told her to change. Since Xia Shamu was wearing jeans under her skirt, Cheng Xiaoyu stepped out while she changed into the socks.

Checking his watch, Cheng Xiaoyu knocked on the door and told Xia Shamu he’d wait for her at the main stage in the bar.

She replied she’d be right out, and Cheng Xiaoyu headed into the lounge.

By now, nearly all the seats on the first floor were filled—it seemed the photos of Xia Shamu posted online had worked their magic. With showtime approaching, Cheng Xiaoyu and his group felt no nerves at all; instead, Wang Ou was the most anxious, muttering at the backstage exit, “Why isn’t Xia Shamu out yet?”

Chen Jinglong sat with a group of regulars, laughing and drinking, but inwardly he was uneasy. After all, Cheng Xiaoyu and his friends were performing all original songs—a risk for Chen Jinglong as a bar owner. As a music professional, he thought their performance was excellent, but as a businessman, he wasn’t sure how the average audience would react to music styles that were not currently in vogue. Truthfully, if not for Xia Shamu’s striking transformation, he might not have dared let the group perform. People are generally more forgiving of beautiful women—even if the song is not to their taste, a pretty girl is always a pleasure to watch.

As Xia Shamu’s tall, slender figure appeared at the backstage door, Cheng Xiaoyu and his friends went up to check the instruments.

She hadn’t even stepped onto the stage before applause and whistles erupted throughout the bar.

The black soccer socks with two white stripes, paired with low-cut white canvas shoes, set off her long, eye-catching legs. A red plaid skirt, white shirt, and a slim, deep-blue school blazer made her look lively and pure. But matched with the dramatic smoky makeup and her striking features, the effect was irresistible—a perfect blend of angel and demon.

Xia Shamu ascended the stage, drew a deep breath, gripped the mic stand, and glanced back at Cheng Xiaoyu, signaling she was ready.

Since this was their first bar show, the opening number had to grab the crowd immediately. Cheng Xiaoyu had chosen a brisk song, “Hypnosis,” perfect for this setting.

As the spotlights converged on Xia Shamu, Chen Haoran’s drums kicked in, the electric guitar followed, and Xia Shamu’s voice drifted into the microphone, casual and airy, like an autumn breeze.

At first, Xia Shamu struggled to convey the song’s nonchalant emotion during practice. Cheng Xiaoyu had demonstrated repeatedly, teaching her to mix substantial falsetto into her chest voice and project from the nasal cavity. This allowed for a seamless transition into falsetto at higher notes, producing an effortless yet clear timbre—an essential technique of the “Fei-style” vocalization.

With her first line, Xia Shamu stunned the entire bar. In this world, there was as yet no Wang Fei, no lead singer of Ranbrrs, no vocalist using that kind of pharyngeal technique. Wang Fei was a classic light soprano, and “Hypnosis” required a dreamy, ethereal quality. Under Cheng Xiaoyu’s guidance, Xia Shamu captured the essence—mastering the art of switching between head and chest voice, and using breathy tones.

So when Xia Shamu sang the first phrase, “The taste of the first bite of cake,” those used to the draggy, overly emotive, vibrato-laden pop vocals of the day suddenly heard a voice so clean, so round and clear, it was like eating ice cream on a sweltering summer day—delightful to the very core. The noisy bar fell silent after just one line; every conversation ceased as people listened, spellbound.

The taste of the first bite of cake
The comfort a first toy brings
The sun rises, the sun sets, the ice cream melts away
The taste of the second bite of cake
The comfort a second toy brings
The wind blows, the wind blows, popcorn is so sweet

From start to finish, forgetting and remembering,
From start to finish, counting again and again,
Has anything been wasted?
La......

The first time kissing someone’s lips
The first time you’re sick and need medicine
The sun sets, the sun sets, the ice cream melts away
The second time kissing someone’s lips
The second time you’re sick and need medicine
The wind blows, the wind blows, popcorn is so sweet

From start to finish, forgetting and remembering,
From start to finish, counting again and again,
Has anything been wasted?
Suddenly it’s dawn, suddenly it’s dusk, and so on
Flying far away—one, two, three, four, five, six years, a thousand autumns, endless years
From start to finish, forgetting and remembering,
From start to finish, counting again and again,
Has anything been wasted?
La......

When the closing “la la” faded, everyone in the bar was thoroughly entranced. This voice, seemingly from another time, offered listeners something entirely new—an experience both beautiful and moving. The applause was thunderous and unceasing, only gradually subsiding when Xia Shamu softly said, “Thank you, everyone.”

In another world, Wang Fei’s unique vocal style made her the queen of Mandopop for over a decade, until A-Mei appeared as a worthy challenger. In sheer technical skill, Wang Fei may not have been the strongest, but her personality was so distinctive it shone through her music—a cool, proud aloofness. She was also a clever and sensitive singer, with an exceptional musical instinct. “Musical sense” is a nebulous term, but in essence, it’s the innate understanding of what sounds good—an intuitive grasp of melody and style.

Some people are born this way—though their families have no musical background, they can sing beautifully from the moment they open their mouths, instinctively knowing where to connect, flow, break, blend, strengthen, or soften a note. For difficult, austere songs like “Cold War,” Wang Fei was among the few who could deliver a live performance that was not just passable, but genuinely moving. Her musical sense gave her confidence—like knowing the heart of a lover, she could sing without faltering.

For Xia Shamu, whose fundamentals were solid and whose musical sensitivity was excellent, imitation was easy, especially with Cheng Xiaoyu’s super-powered guidance. In a world where “Fei-style” singing did not yet exist, not bringing down the house would have been the real surprise.

After the first song, Chen Jinglong’s worries vanished. His friends at the next table clapped so hard their palms were red, pressing him for the story behind this girl. When Chen Jinglong revealed she was still a high school senior, one of them immediately pulled out a hundred yuan to buy ten roses, instructing a server to place them in the vase at the side of the stage.

This was the custom in Chinese bars—a benefit for singers. All the money spent on roses gifted to the performer belonged to them. How many roses a singer received by the end of a set was the real measure of their success. Of course, good looks helped, but in the end, singing well mattered most.

And before they’d even started the next song, the vase was already full. The server had to remove the roses, count them, and take them back to the bar, or else there wouldn’t be enough for the following number. This had never happened before at Lantern Forest.