Chapter Sixty-Three: Wang's Headlines

Old Zhang truly intended to make a new album.

After releasing “Believe in Yourself,” he hadn’t expected such a surge in popularity; netizens across the internet voiced their support for him and his new song. The old rocker once thought that the rock he cherished had died out, only now realizing it was merely his own spirit that had faded. Rock had never disappeared—it remained, woven into everyone’s daily life.

A piece of cake, to judge its taste, must first be sampled; Old Zhang now felt that his group had been far too concerned with whether the cake was truly a cake, never considering whether anyone would eat it, or if it even tasted good. No matter what it is, if you want more people to try and accept it, you have to let them take the first bite. A cake covered in green mold and crawling with maggots certainly cannot compare to one bursting with creamy fragrance and vibrant colors.

When something is appealing both inside and out, it will naturally be accepted and promoted by people.

Old Zhang had tried his hand at composing, but found his thinking always locked in a single pattern. He wanted to break free, but could never find the right method.

So Old Zhang thought of Wang Lei. This fellow possessed a voice perfectly suited to rock music, and from what he saw, Wang Lei was brimming with ideas and talent. Such a person was ideal for this industry, for Old Zhang knew the scene lacked precisely people like Wang Lei. Yet, Wang Lei’s ambitions lay elsewhere, which left Old Zhang frustrated; Wang Lei’s decision to move to the frontier baffled him even more.

Since Wang Lei didn’t want to enter the music world, Old Zhang could only try to commission songs from him. However, at this point, Old Zhang hesitated, feeling awkward about asking—after all, he was a generation older. Sometimes, age isn’t an advantage; it’s not easy to set pride aside.

“Brother Zhang, what are you saying? I truly have no intention of joining the industry, but if you need a song, just let me know. If I can write it, I won’t hold back.”

“I knew you’d agree! Well, enough said—let’s eat, drink, and enjoy ourselves today. Third Brother, come, let’s have another round!”

Hearing Wang Lei’s straightforward reply, Old Zhang was delighted. He had feared Wang Lei might refuse, unwilling to mix with the entertainment industry, which would have been embarrassing.

Wang Lei, for his part, didn’t mind. Though he hadn’t been a professional musician in his former world, he enjoyed listening to music and would occasionally belt out songs at karaoke. Rather than letting his knowledge fade into oblivion, he thought he’d seize the opportunity to do what he could. He wasn’t worried about Old Zhang playing any tricks, and besides, greater fame would only help his future endeavors.

“Oh, so Grandpa Zhanshan’s grandson-in-law is also a musician! That’s right up Pingtong’s alley, though I suspect Grandpa Zhanshan might not be too fond of this young man.”

Yu San had figured it out—Old Zhang, usually so self-assured, now had to ask for help.

“Third Brother, you’re mistaken. This young man isn’t from our circle; he’s actually a basketball coach. Hard to tell, isn’t it?”

Old Zhang was in high spirits. No matter what songs Wang Lei ended up writing, the fact that he’d given him face today was enough.

“Hmm, his height certainly fits the part. All right, I’ll acknowledge him today. Come by often in the future.”

“Thank you, Grandpa Yu. The dishes here are superb—I’ll definitely come back often,” Wang Lei replied, though Ma Dongmei spoke up first. She’d eaten her fill today. Though some dishes weren’t suitable for athletes, she consciously avoided them, but the rest were top-notch, far tastier than anything at the training base.

“Thank you. Meimei and I are both away from home, so it’s rare to return. We’ll visit more often whenever we can.”

With the conversation settled, they turned to feasting and drinking. The cuisine at the Yu family’s old restaurant was full of flavor, and with Old Zhang’s excellent liquor, everyone enjoyed themselves thoroughly.

After several rounds of drinks and courses, the three who were drinking wore a rosy glow. Old Zhang occasionally shared industry gossip, Wang Lei spoke about his experiences in the frontier, and the bonds among them grew stronger.

“Brother Zhang, while the wine is flowing, tell me what you have in mind for your new album. What kind of songs do you want? I’d like to prepare in advance, so if there’s anything I can’t manage, I won’t hold you up.”

Wang Lei knew his own limits; he could slowly piece together some songs, but real composition was beyond him.

“Nothing special—just the same style as ‘Believe in Yourself.’ Honestly, I’m at the stage where my own children are nearly grown, so singing about love and romance isn’t appropriate. The style we had back in the day doesn’t suit current trends, which is why I’m stuck.”

Old Zhang clarified his needs. He wasn’t without talent, but was trapped by the era’s style and his own consciousness, unable to break free. Compared to Earth’s timeline, this world’s style was somewhat more dignified and refined.

Having heard Old Zhang’s requirements, Wang Lei immediately thought of a certain star from Earth’s timeline. Although that artist was controversial, it had to be admitted that his songs had a distinctive personal style, perfect for Old Zhang to interpret now.

“Spring in the Heart,” “Existence,” “Fly Higher,” and so on—one had to admit, Headline Wang was a highly prolific singer. He maintained his own musical style from the start, and it was undeniable that many of his songs were widely popular. While some netizens in Earth’s timeline said Headline Wang’s music was a bit melodramatic, those who lived through that era actually enjoyed his style.

“All right, Brother Zhang, I’ll take care of this. I won’t promise too much, but I’m confident with this style. Three to five songs should be doable.”

Wang Lei accepted Old Zhang’s commission. Although arranging scores was tough, he had a deep impression of the widely circulated songs by Headline Wang. If he hurried, he could probably finish before the New Year. If necessary, he could simply sing the songs himself and let professionals handle the rest.

“Good, Lei, I’ll leave it to you. If the album becomes a hit, Brother Zhang won’t forget your contribution.”