Chapter 100: The Sky Has Already Passed By

After his birthday, sixteen-year-old Zhang Tan entered a routine of shuttling between school and the music studio. He was collaborating with the Piao Band on two songs. He didn’t hide anything from his family; he told them directly that he’d be heading to Hefei for the Lobster Festival—eating lobster and attending a performance. The event wasn’t entirely formal, so the rehearsal intensity wasn’t high. Zhang Tan still squeezed out time in the evenings to write his novel, hoping to finish “The Four Great Constables in the Capital” by early June. Time slipped by unnoticed.

Soon, May 18 arrived. Zhang Tan and the Piao Band made their way to the plaza of Yufeng Flower Market, standing by according to the committee’s arrangements, ready to take the stage at any moment. Their two songs—“Spicy Lobster” was scheduled right after the opening folk song and dance, while “The Stones of Hefei” would be performed mid-program. By then, there was no need for last-minute rehearsals. The band members crowded backstage, each checking their equipment meticulously, ensuring everything was in working order, taking the final precautions.

Leaning against the wall with his guitar, Zhang Tan felt a surge of anxiety about his imminent first stage performance. His parents, sister, and several cousins had rushed over that morning, and he had no idea in which corner of the plaza they were waiting to witness his debut. Still, he possessed a fairly robust psychological endurance, forcibly suppressing his nerves and trying to ease his tension by chatting with his teammates.

“Nervous?” Liu Yicheng, fiddling with his hair, bumped into Zhang Tan and asked.

Zhang Tan strummed his guitar, “Nervous? Not at all.”

Blondie wiped some imaginary sweat from his forehead. “I’m a little nervous, feel like I’m about to get the runs.”

Liu Yicheng smacked him. “Cut the crap. Even if you crap your pants, you’d better stay at your post. If your bass messes up, I’ll give you a lump on your head.”

“Don’t hit my head! My head may bleed but my style must stay intact!”

Xiaoyu sneered, “Damn it, you wash your hair with that fancy shampoo every day, what are you afraid of? You’ll never go bald!”

After a round of banter and jokes, the tension dissipated considerably. Zhang Tan finally had the spirit to look around, observing the entire backstage. The Lobster Festival performance was lively, not just their band singing, but also a drum troupe, magicians, acrobats, dancers, and plenty of beautiful models.

The models gathered in a partitioned area, out of easy sight, but as they went in and out, one could catch glimpses of the scenes inside. Many people liked to pretend to pass by the doorway. The band was less fortunate, being farther away, only able to see vague silhouettes.

“Alright, everyone do one last check to see if anything’s missing,” Liu Yicheng instructed.

Everything was confirmed in order.

Within minutes, staff called the band to take the stage.

They left backstage and walked onto the central plaza stage.

Boom!

Zhang Tan’s heart thumped powerfully.

Outside, the crowd was immense, a sea of vibrant clothing and dark heads filling the entire Yufeng Flower Market plaza. Even distant streets were packed with people squeezing in.

It was a true spectacle.

His ears buzzed—not only from the sound of the crowd below but also from the blend of his own heartbeat and breathing. Such a scene was exhilarating beyond words.

Zhang Tan steadied himself, exchanged glances with Liu Yicheng and the others, and gently placed his fingers on the guitar.

In an instant, the sound of the guitar spread across the plaza through the microphone.

…

Five minutes later.

“Spicy Lobster” concluded.

Amid applause, Zhang Tan and the Piao Band bowed to the audience.

Their performance was steady, though not outstanding. They’d imagined a passionate display on stage, but when it actually began, it wasn’t so natural; everyone completed their part in a state of nervousness.

Especially Zhang Tan—he felt, for the first time, the difference between performing on stage and singing privately. Singing alone, his mood was calm and his technique at its peak; on stage, his nerves reduced his capacity by half. Several lines even went off-key.

Though he managed to pull things back, the overall performance was only a passing grade—six out of ten.

Partly due to poor sound quality, partly because the audience was too rowdy.

He went off-key several times because the noise threw off his rhythm. In such a big venue, inexperienced newcomers easily lose tempo due to external factors.

Still, being able to finish the song without major mistakes and receiving plenty of applause satisfied Zhang Tan and his teammates. They began preparing for the second song.

Half an hour later, “The Stones of Hefei” was up, and the response was much stronger than for the theme song.

The moment the first lyric rang out: “San Xiao Kou, Si Pai Lou…”

A massive, noisy cheer erupted from the crowd; locals were very familiar with those place names.

“…Women’s Street, turning onto the Yangtze Road. Go forward or back, a breeze comes from Baohe east.”

“Spicy hotpot and big snails, spending the summer eating lobster.”

“Say it loud, I’m a Hefei stone, you’re my one and only girlfriend.”

This song, so close to Hefei’s heart, quickly struck a chord with countless listeners. By the end, the applause was thunderous and enduring.

They bowed deeply.

Zhang Tan’s chest heaved violently—the thrill of performing in public was overwhelming, sending tingles through his whole body.

With his guitar in his arms, he left the stage and returned backstage.

Zhang Tan was still a bit dazed. “That was intense—I thought my heart was about to burst. I can’t imagine those singers at the Workers’ Stadium, facing tens of thousands of screaming fans—how do they survive it? I’ve had enough of that thrill; I won’t do anything so nerve-racking again.”

He was also secretly relieved he hadn’t joined the band permanently.

He liked being in the spotlight, but clearly couldn’t handle live performances. Just two songs were enough to make his legs weak and push him off the stage.

It was like in his previous life, taking his girlfriend to Fantawild World in Wuhu, riding something like the “Meteor Flyer” roller coaster. Watching others scream on it seemed exhilarating. While queued up, he thought—even if it tossed him in the air for half an hour, he could handle it without a hitch.

But after just one or two minutes on the Meteor Flyer, his legs were wobbly when he touched the ground, barely able to walk straight.

It was thrilling, sure, but from then on, he’d never dare ride the Meteor Flyer again.

Singing this time was the same. He’d always thought he should be performing at Workers’ Stadium, basking in the adoration of tens of thousands. Now, just the Lobster Festival had dampened his grand ambitions. Performing on stage was enjoyable, but too intense—his nerves couldn’t take it.

“After singing these two songs today, I could die without regret,” Liu Yicheng said, dismantling his drum kit.

Blondie stretched out his hands. “Look, both my hands are wet.”

Acheng grinned, “I saw you rush to the bathroom right after getting off stage—washed your hands, huh?”

“Nonsense, you know your brother Blondie never washes his hands after using the bathroom.”

Liu Yicheng ignored Blondie’s antics and turned to Zhang Tan, “How did it feel?”

“Thrilling.” Zhang Tan was gradually calming down, returning to his usual self. “But there must have been nearly ten thousand people in the plaza. When I sang, seeing all those dark heads, it was so nerve-wracking I thought I’d suffocate. I think I’ll stick to backstage creative work—it’s more comfortable. One taste of excitement is enough.”

“No way, you’re giving up singing already?”

“Stage performance makes my legs weak. I think private singing suits me better.”

Liu Yicheng nodded in understanding. “Yeah, same here. When I was drumming up there, both arms felt like they could cramp any moment. So many people watching—it was nerve-racking. Looks like we’re not cut out for the performer’s life.”

Some people are naturally suited to big venues—the bigger the crowd, the more excited and expressive they become.

Clearly, Zhang Tan and the Piao Band members were ordinary folk. They shone in private, playing music with flair, but on stage, their nerves showed.

Still, thanks to this Lobster Festival performance, everyone had a highlight moment in their lives.

No regrets.

“Well, Liu, Acheng, Xiaoyu, Blondie—you guys carry on. I won’t leave with you. My parents are out there enjoying the festival, so I’ll go keep them company.”

“Alright, let’s have a drink together some time.”

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ps: Today is the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Day. Let us remember history and never forget the bloodshed.