The bar was on the thirteenth floor of the commercial center.
This wasn’t Lin Cheng’s first time filling in on short notice. The bar manager already knew him and had given him the rundown ahead of time. The resident performance wouldn’t start until nine thirty, so Lin Cheng settled into a corner of the bar first. As the fill-in singer, he had a free half-dozen beers to enjoy.
He used to love drinking.
Back then, he was still a minor. It seemed pretty bad to booze it up every day, but if he didn’t drink enough, fear would keep him awake at night. Only after retiring from service did he start to get better. Drinking stopped being a crutch for his nerves and turned into lighthearted fun instead.
A few patrons had already trickled into the bar. This place was positioned as a social hangout—a chill bar, mostly packed with pretty college girls. It was March now, the season when peach blossoms first bloomed, but these attractive young women were already sporting tiny tank tops and hot pants. Their snow-white skin glowed warmly under the dim lights. Lin Cheng pocketed his phone, where he’d been scrolling through some risqué content, and shifted his gaze to the tables of university students nearby.
Watching them drink, play drinking games, and roll dice, Lin Cheng found it kind of amusing. He never had a chance to experience that sort of thing back in the day. After retiring, he could have gone to college, but his post-traumatic stress disorder was way worse then, so he gave up on it. Now he was almost over it, but at nearly twenty-one, heading to university felt a bit late.
He occasionally enjoyed these noisy environments. The world suddenly didn’t feel so lonely, even if he was on his own. Listening to the laughter from the next table over always left Lin Cheng a little dazed. An older guy had taught him to drink back then—a middle-aged man whose wife and kid had died, leaving him all alone in the world. The man treated Lin Cheng like a little brother, showing him how to smoke and drink. He’d sling an arm around Lin Cheng’s shoulders and say, “A young guy who can’t smoke or drink? How’s that gonna work?” Then they’d knock back shot after shot until dawn.
Later, that uncle died, cut down by the scythe of a disaster variant demon beast. Before he passed, he left Lin Cheng some final words: best to quit smoking. He’d only been messing with the kid back then. Smoking was bad for the body, but he just couldn’t kick the habit.
Spitting blood, the man reflected to Lin Cheng that trading his life for an SS-rank disaster variant beast wasn’t a bad deal. In his fading moments, he mumbled curses at the catastrophes, praying and hoping they’d finally end someday.
He also told Lin Cheng not to be afraid. The world belonged to young people like him.
Before he died, Lin Cheng had promised him he’d end the catastrophes with his own hands.
It was about time.
Lin Cheng snapped out of it and drained the beer in his glass. The regular band couldn’t make it tonight because they had a gig at some music festival, so he was stepping in. He was pretty good at folk tunes—back when he couldn’t sleep, he’d play them to lull himself under.
Folk songs were simple to get, really. Most boiled down to one thing: “Girl, I want to sleep with you, but I’ve got no money.”
Lin Cheng took the stage as the spotlight hit him. This was his turf, and the crowd below wasn’t empty.
There was an electric guitar on the stand. He sat on the stool, picked it up, and leaned into the mic as the bar’s background music cut out.
“Good evening, friends. Long time no see… Old Yang’s off at the music festival, so it’s me filling in again. Same old folk tunes. I picked up a bit of Hotel California recently. Scan the code if there’s something you want to hear—I’ll sing it if I know it, learn it if I don’t, and bring it next time. Starting with Wilderness Star… thanks, everyone.”
Most folks here were regulars, and plenty had seen Lin Cheng perform before. Applause rippled through the crowd. That was one reason he liked the place: get the vibe right, and young people were generous with their cheers. Everyone loved a good time.
He strummed the strings gently and sang a verse of Wilderness Star.
“Stealing the stars of the wild sky / No longer looking up.”
Lin Cheng zoned out again. A dreamy whisper echoed in his ears.
“Captain, has anyone ever told you you’ve got a nice voice?”
“Yeah.”
“Then can you sing for me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“Aw, you can learn! I want to hear some folk songs.”
“Folk songs?”
“Yeah. A few years back, guys who could sing folk tunes got bonus points. Too bad things have changed. Now they all go for rap, crying for that rebellious thrill with some rapper boyfriend.”
“What do you want to hear? I can learn when I’ve got time.”
“That deadbeat fatty. The captain’s such a good guy, heh.”
In his daze, Lin Cheng seemed to glimpse her face through the lights—a petite girl with the healing ability.
Flashes of memory surged. He saw blood trickling from her mouth, tears blurring her eyes.
“Captain… wake up… don’t die…”
“I’m… fine. You… stop. I’m not… afraid… to die.”
“No… Captain… your life… matters more than mine… You’re the one… to end this era… You… can’t die.”
Her ability surged at full throttle, milky-white energy glowing around her like an angel’s halo. But her cheeks grew paler, almost translucent, blood staining the collar of her white dress.
“Too bad… I won’t see that day… Captain.”
“I’m so tired… Captain… sing me another song… I want Wilderness Star…”
“I… haven’t learned it yet…”
“Then… next time we meet… sing it for me…”
Their next meeting was at her funeral. It rained that day. Everyone else left the graveside, but Lin Cheng stayed on the wet grass, mask over his face, singing the song over and over.
Lin Cheng yawned, wiped a tear from his eye, and gave an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t sleep well last night… Here’s Hotel California for you. Who was it that recommended it last time? It’s seriously catchy.”
The electric guitar’s notes filled the bar, and the world seemed to hush. Conversations quieted as Lin Cheng peered through misty eyes at the crowd below. Smiles played on their lips. Maybe no one cared what he sang, but that was fine.
Lu Xiaoxiao took a quiet sip of her cocktail and glanced at the man on stage.
She couldn’t say if this was fate or just bad luck anymore.
After leaving the internet cafe, she’d gone to the upscale Japanese place she’d booked for lunch—per-person two grand. Afterward, she figured she’d grab a couple drinks somewhere. She’d been boozing outside these past couple days; otherwise, she’d lie awake, restless.
But here she was, running into that man again. He was up there strumming the guitar. When he’d sung that last song, Lu Xiaoxiao had caught a glint of tears in his eye. For some reason, a wave of inexplicable sadness welled up in her. She’d read profound sorrow in his gaze, even though he’d just yawned and smiled afterward.
Patrons started scanning the code for requests, including a couple rap tracks. She overheard Lin Cheng bantering with the crowd.
“Hey, don’t underestimate me—someone told me about this one last time, and I actually learned it. Bet you didn’t expect that. Next up… Zhenhai.”
The energy ramped up. Lu Xiaoxiao hugged her glass, sipping the fizzy cocktail in silence. A few guys had tried sitting across from her, striking up conversation, but her cool stare sent them packing.
Until the guy from the stage finished his set and slid into the seat opposite her. He met her eyes. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“A little,” Lu Xiaoxiao replied flatly, looking away.
“Break time. Grab a couple drinks? Anything you want to hear? I’ll sing it for you later.”
“Nothing. I’ll head out soon.” She turned back to him. “You work here?”
“Not really. More like occasional gig, filling in for folks.”
“So what do you actually do?”
“Unemployed. Pick up some gaming escort jobs, escort quests, sell flowers now and then.”
“I remember some account named after a woman transferring you money every month for the past two years.”
“Oh, that’s my sugar mama. You Alliance folks dug up even that private info? She’s got a husband—sends it from a burner account on the sly.”
“…” Lu Xiaoxiao couldn’t tell if he was serious.
“Pretty lively tonight,” Lin Cheng said, scanning the packed house.
“It’s White Day,” she replied coolly.
“What? Valentine’s? Should’ve gone selling flowers.” He scratched his head. Lu Xiaoxiao tilted hers. “Selling flowers?”
“Yeah, I moonlight peddling romance sometimes. Told you last time, right?”
“Then can you do that magic trick from before again?” A smile tugged at her lips.
Lin Cheng grimaced. “Magic’s not real magic. Needs props.”
“So, no go?” Her eyes held a hint of disdain.
“Not entirely. If there’s a reward… I might just conjure some magic, teleport those roses from home.” He winked.
Lu Xiaoxiao blinked, playing along. “What kind of reward?”
“Books say kissing releases happiness hormones.”
“Conjure them first.”
“If I do, one kiss?” Lin Cheng eyed her playfully.
“And if you can’t?”
“I’ll drink every bottle on this table.”
There were six bottles of high-proof Roosevelt No. 10 abbey ale lined up.
“Deal.” Lu Xiaoxiao propped her elbow on the table, chin in hand, lips curved as she watched him.
She noted his short sleeves and shorts—no place to hide a rose. Lin Cheng clasped his hands and started rubbing them slowly. He furrowed his brow, sweating dramatically, overacting it up. After a dozen seconds, he spread his hands. “Ta-da.”
They were empty.
Lu Xiaoxiao tilted her head. “Where?”
“You’ve gotta feel happy first to see the roses.”
She shot him a scornful look. Lin Cheng chuckled wryly, gathered all the beers from her table, stood, cracked them open one by one, and chugged them down.
Lu Xiaoxiao laughed, delighted.
