Chapter 25: Not Hunger, but Craving!

Manager Cai was in exceptionally high spirits today. After the performance ended, he booked a nearby restaurant and treated everyone to the region’s most renowned delicacy: lamb stew with flatbread.

Steamed lamb with rice flour, glutinous crystal dumplings, meat wrapped in naan, lamb ribs from a steam pot, sour soup dumplings… One delectable dish after another was brought to the table. Everyone, having subsisted on boxed lunches for days, stared wide-eyed, their mouths watering.

“Come, everyone! It’s a rare occasion for our performance troupe to visit my hometown. I simply must treat you all to local cuisine!” Manager Cai waved his hand, prompting the group to eagerly pick up their chopsticks and dig in.

“Brother Cai? Are you from Chang’an?” a female singer asked sweetly.

“Yes!” Manager Cai nodded, but then sighed. “Alas! Every time I return, it’s for a performance. I never even get the chance to visit my parents at home!”

Most present made their living performing in cities across the country. Even Galen was a northerner who had migrated to the capital, so everyone understood and grew sentimental at the mention of home.

Seeing the mood, Manager Cai laughed. “Ah, I just said a few words and made you all so glum. Oh, right…” He pointed at Galen. “Your name is Galen, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Galen was busy tackling a lamb rib, but immediately nodded.

“Haha! Excellent, excellent! That song you sang today moved me deeply!” Manager Cai smiled. “Our Chang’an, with its millennia of history, is no less cultured than the capital. Take Qin Opera, for example—tsk, tsk, is it any less than Beijing Opera?”

“Right, right! It’s just as good!” everyone chimed in.

Manager Cai grew even more pleased, deliberately switched seats with Mai Le, and sat beside Galen, holding up a teacup. “Ah, Galen, we still have a performance this afternoon, so let’s forgo the alcohol. I’ll take the liberty of acting as your elder! Let’s toast with tea instead!”

“Sure!” Galen obediently raised his own teacup and clinked it with Manager Cai’s.

Manager Cai smiled, “Have you been to Chang’an before?”

“No!” Galen shook his head. “This is my first time!”

“The first time?” Manager Cai was skeptical. “The way you wrote, no one without at least ten years of living in Chang’an could have captured it!”

Galen chuckled, “But it is my first time here. And it’s my first time performing outdoors in such a large venue. Sure, I’ve played at weddings before, but those don’t count. So all these firsts mean something special to me, and that’s why I wrote this song.”

Manager Cai sensed something amiss, and the other singers and band members at the table picked up on it too.

They eyed Galen suspiciously—he was drinking water, not alcohol. Could he really be intoxicated?

Galen was puzzled. Why was everyone looking at him that way?

Aya, who was closest to him, couldn’t help but ask, “Galen, when did you write that song?”

Galen was momentarily stunned, understanding now what was behind those looks. But having spoken, he had to follow through, so he replied with a wry smile, “Just before going on stage!”

“Before going on stage?” The bassist was shocked. “Impossible! You wrote such a mature song in so little time, and could perform it right away?”

“Yes! If that’s true, Galen’s musical talent is not to be underestimated!” The group exclaimed in amazement. Of course, there were dissenters.

One particularly trendy, idol-like singer spoke up, “It’s possible. Didn’t anyone notice that the song is really simple? The lyrics are just a few lines, and the melody is basic!”

“Simple?” The lead singer of the rock band disagreed. “Rock isn’t like your pop songs. It’s not about how many lyrics or melodies, it’s about structure! Well, anyway, you don’t know how to write songs, so there’s no point explaining.”

The idol singer protested, “Who says I can’t write songs? I helped with my new album, you know!”

The band’s lead singer sneered, “Ha, your ‘help’ probably amounted to fetching tea and water for the producer.”

“What did you say?” The idol singer’s face darkened, and his friends also looked upset.

The performance troupe was actually made up of three groups.

One group consisted of idol singers who had signed with small record companies but had not yet debuted. Their companies arranged performances with touring firms to boost exposure, but their fees were minimal and paid through their record companies.

Another group was like the rock band, unsigned but contracted directly with the touring company. They performed wherever the tour went, received their fees directly from the company, and earned relatively well.

The last group included Galen, Aya, and Yao Xiaotong. They were either recruited by the touring company or its sponsors, and their fees were paid directly by the sponsors—much higher than the other two groups.

Seeing tensions rise between the first two groups, Galen, being new, wisely kept quiet and observed. The reactions varied: Aya watched with cold indifference, as if uninvolved; the girl group members from Taiwan avoided the conflict, some excusing themselves to the restroom, others busying themselves with makeup.

Especially the recently debuted Chinese-American singer, who was smiling and speaking softly on the phone in English, nobody knew what about.

The rest were easy to distinguish. Their verbal sparring was sharp, full of veiled insults and derision, though it didn’t escalate to physical altercations.

Finally, Manager Cai had to step in. “Enough, enough! If you keep this up, I’ll never take you out to eat again. From now on, it’s company-provided boxed lunches only, no exceptions!”

That calmed the two factions, though they still grumbled in discontent.

Manager Cai looked at them, helpless. He’d been in performance management for years and knew how deep the waters ran. In this business, anyone could be famous tomorrow, so he couldn’t afford to offend anyone.

After dinner, everyone headed outside.

Aya caught up to Galen and asked quietly, “Did you really write that song just before going on stage?”

“Yes, I did!” Galen had adopted the attitude of a dead pig unafraid of boiling water, insisting he’d written it on the spot. There was nothing anyone could do.

In truth, “Chang’an Chang’an” was inspired when he watched a talent show called “The Voice of China” on his old second-hand laptop. A contestant named Liang Bo performed this song, earning a spot on the mentor’s team and ultimately winning the championship.

Though Galen hadn’t been particularly impressed by the performance at first, the song itself captivated him. He then found the original version, sung by a musician named Zheng Jun, and was immediately enchanted. The vocals, lyrics, arrangement, and instrumentation all left him feeling conquered.

He saved the song to his phone, listening to it from time to time, never expecting it would come in handy today.

…

The “Chang’an Metropolitan Daily” official microblog.

“#Chang’an Chang’an# This morning, Galen, singer of the theme song for ‘The Year We Graduate,’ arrived at Chang’an University Town. At the end of the performance, he sang ‘Chang’an Chang’an’ as a gift to fans and to this historic city. [Photo] [Video link]”

This post didn’t garner much attention at first, but as students from Chang’an University Town began sharing it, retweets quickly surpassed five thousand, comments exceeded a thousand, and likes shot past ten thousand.

By the time many found the post on the trending topics list, its view count had already exceeded fifty thousand—just over one afternoon. With the help of local media, “Chang’an Chang’an” seemed to have become the city’s anthem.

Netizens’ reviews were overwhelmingly positive.

“The young man in the video sings beautifully. Old residents of Chang’an are moved to tears!”

“I’m listening in Chang’an!”

“I’m listening at Chang’an University Town!”

“Today Galen came to our University Town and performed this song! Yay! Long live the people of Chang’an!”

“At this moment, I sit quietly in the back row of the classroom, listening to ‘Chang’an Chang’an.’ On the blackboard, the countdown to the college entrance exam ticks lower and lower. The only couple in the class flirts obliviously beside me. I want to escape! Chang’an, wait for me! I’ll get into Jiaoda!”

“On cold nights, I often dream of you, with your silver hair and youthful face. Thousands of years have passed, who will betray you now?”

“After years away from home, though I’ve secured a house, a car, money, a wife, and a son in a strange land—‘five achievements’ (laughs)!—I still feel like a beggar wandering the streets. Home is a word that will never go out of style in my heart!”

“….”

Comments flooded in. Aya, scrolling through the microblog with her phone, laughed as she showed Galen, “I admire you so much—one casual song and it’s a sensation! Look, the views have already surpassed a hundred thousand.”

“Heh, that’s nothing. A story about adoptive parents and their daughter can get forty or fifty thousand views just as easily. The internet, especially microblogs, is full of these things—it’s hardly surprising,” Galen smiled.

By this time, he and the performance troupe had arrived at their next destination—Taiyuan.

The afternoon’s performance was scheduled for Wen Ying Park in the city center. With time to spare, Galen and Aya visited Liuxiang, not far from the park. The lively atmosphere there relaxed Galen.

He disliked quiet places, preferring bustling crowds, and especially loved the feeling of being on stage. The larger and more vibrant the audience, the bolder he felt.

“Let’s grab a snack before moving on!” Passing a street lined with food stalls on both sides, Galen couldn’t resist.

Aya was puzzled, “We just finished lunch not long ago—are you hungry?”

“Not hungry!” Galen shook his head and licked his lips. “Just craving!”

“Uh…” Aya was speechless, then smiled helplessly. “Alright, but don’t overdo it. The performance is about to start.”

“I know, I know!” Galen grinned, rubbing his hands eagerly as he headed toward the food stalls.