Chapter 11: The Old Vegetable Vendor

In the days that followed, apart from singing at the bar every night, Lin Chuan spent all his time with Lin Yiyang. However, with the television broadcast of “One Song to Fame,” Lin Chuan’s fame soared thanks to his performance in the semifinals, making him one of the frontrunners for the championship. Yet Lin Chuan himself had little interest in any of this. For him, nothing was more important than earning money to give Lin Yiyang a good life.

One morning, with nothing else to do, Lin Chuan took Lin Yiyang to a market not far from their home to buy groceries. Ever since Lin Chuan had cooked a meal himself, Lin Yiyang had become completely hooked on his cooking.

After wandering around for quite some time, Lin Chuan finally stopped in front of a vegetable stall.

“Sir, how much are the cucumbers?” Lin Chuan asked as he looked into a basket.

The elderly vendor looked up, sized Lin Chuan up, and said slowly, “One yuan, take as many as you like!”

Hearing the price, Lin Chuan smiled, quite satisfied. After walking around for so long, he had found that only this old man’s vegetables were fresh enough.

He squatted down and began picking through the cucumbers. As he was doing so, the old man, who had been engrossed in a book, suddenly remarked, “Hey, young man, I think I’ve seen you on TV. Aren’t you on that singing show… what’s it called?”

Lin Chuan was taken aback, then nodded.

“Oh, my old eyes! I almost mistook you for someone else. You sing well, young man. My wife is a big fan of yours. She even bet me you’d win the championship!” The old man’s voice grew excited as he put his book aside.

Lin Chuan smiled, about to offer a few modest words, when he saw a look of reminiscence appear on the old man’s face. “Back in my day, I was quite a musician myself. I still remember, it was my singing that moved my wife all those years ago and made her agree to spend her life with me…”

“Grandpa, and then what happened?” Lin Yiyang, listening with keen interest, pressed him.

The old man glanced at the boy, then replied in a low voice, “You’re a curious one. But there’s nothing more to tell. If I’d pursued music single-mindedly back then, maybe I’d be someone of note today…”

Lin Yiyang fell into thoughtful silence, his young mind unable to grasp the full meaning of the old man’s words. After all, he was still a child.

Lin Chuan smiled faintly, picked up the cucumbers he’d chosen, and said, “Sir, I’ll take these cucumbers. Could you weigh them for me?”

“You young folks! After all my stories, you can’t buy a little more? I’ll have you know, all these vegetables are homegrown—no pesticides, just for my wife and me. But since we had a good harvest this year and can’t finish them ourselves, I brought some out to sell…” the old man said.

“Uh… how much for the tomatoes? I’ll take a few of those too,” Lin Chuan replied, a little embarrassed, glancing at the other baskets.

So, thanks to the old man’s recommendations, Lin Chuan picked out quite a few more vegetables. With their appetites, the food would last Lin Chuan and Lin Yiyang for several days. After buying some fish and meat as well, Lin Chuan led a contented Lin Yiyang home.

At the same time, in a fifty-square-meter apartment, a girl in pajamas, her hair loose, sat in front of her computer, watching a TV program. Had Lin Chuan been there, he would have recognized the footage—it was the semifinals recorded a few days prior, showing a man under thirty, guitar in hand, quietly singing “The World Outside” on stage.

Undoubtedly, the man on screen was Lin Chuan himself.

“Tang Qinru, can’t you come help out? You’ve spent the whole morning watching that same clip over and over. It’s driving me crazy!” A beautiful young woman in her twenties approached, frowning.

“Hehe, Xiaoyue, let me watch a little longer. Don’t you think Lin Chuan looks especially charming when he sings?” Tang Qinru turned, pleading.

“Hmph, so what? No matter how glamorous he looks, he’s still an irresponsible father,” Xiaoyue retorted, glancing disdainfully at the screen.

“Oh, Xiaoyue, why do you keep saying that? How do you know he’s irresponsible?” Tang Qinru replied helplessly.

“Have you ever seen a father take his kid to a bar?” Xiaoyue shot back angrily.

“Maybe he has his reasons. You’re overthinking it,” Tang Qinru replied, after a moment's thought.

“What reason could justify bringing a child to a bar? It’s just a lack of responsibility—he’s not fit to be a father!” Xiaoyue said, gritting her teeth.

“Ugh, there’s no reasoning with you… Hehe, Xiaoyue, how about this—come to the bar with me tonight?” Tang Qinru suddenly changed tack, grinning.

Xiaoyue glared at her friend and turned to leave, tossing over her shoulder, “Go yourself if you want. I don’t have time.”

“Come on, Xiaoyue, I know you’re the best. Just come with me this once…” Tang Qinru wheedled.

The room fell silent, but Tang Qinru burst out laughing, her mood instantly brightening. She knew her friend, for all her tough talk, was soft-hearted—especially when she pestered her like this. It looked like they’d be going to the bar that night after all.

…

Meanwhile, in a spacious office, a woman in her thirties wearing a black suit sat across from a middle-aged man in his forties. On the computer before them, Lin Chuan’s semifinal performance was playing.

After a moment, the man pushed the laptop aside, his face serious. “Are you sure you want to sign this guy?”

“President Jiang, you can see it too—this young man is talented. If the company signs him, I don’t think we’d regret it,” the woman replied, arching an eyebrow.

“I trust your judgment, but let’s not rush. Let’s wait and see,” President Jiang said, his eyes glinting.

“That’s what I was thinking. If he gets a good result in the next round, we’ll have every reason to sign him,” the woman smiled, a look of anticipation in her eyes.

“Achoo!”

In his kitchen, Lin Chuan, busy making lunch, sneezed several times in a row. He frowned, rubbed his nose, and muttered, “Who keeps talking about me?”

“Dad, your phone is ringing!” Lin Yiyang approached, holding an old-fashioned mobile phone.

Lin Chuan checked the screen and saw “Yuan Ye” displayed—his childhood friend.

“Hello?” Lin Chuan answered softly.

“Haha, my brother! Are you really my brother? Such big news and you didn’t tell me? That’s not cool!” a man’s laughter rang out.

“Talk straight. What didn’t I tell you?” Lin Chuan frowned.

His old friend was always like this—overly dramatic, even after years of working.

Yuan Ye paused, as if collecting himself, then said, “Xiao Chuan, you entered ‘One Song to Fame’ and didn’t tell me? I work at the TV station, you know. I could have given you some advice!”

“Hehe, what advice could you give? I didn’t think much about it—just signed up to see how far I could go,” Lin Chuan replied casually.

“Cough, I remember you’ve always looked down on these competitions, even criticized them. What changed? Why’d you decide to enter this time?” Yuan Ye’s voice was full of confusion.

Lin Chuan’s expression shifted slightly as he answered quietly, “I didn’t know what responsibility was before. But now, everything I do is for my son.”

There was silence on the line. Neither man spoke, and Lin Chuan wondered what Yuan Ye was thinking.

After a while, Yuan Ye changed the subject. “So, how’s our boy doing lately?”

“Hehe, you can ask him yourself,” Lin Chuan chuckled, handing the phone to Lin Yiyang.

Lin Yiyang was puzzled at first, but when he recognized the voice, his innocent face broke into a smile and he shouted, “Little Dad!”

After lunch, Lin Chuan cleaned up the kitchen and found Lin Yiyang already napping. Smiling, he sat at the table, picked up a book, and started to read.

Time flew by. Before he knew it, it was already past four in the afternoon. Lin Chuan and Lin Yiyang got dressed, slung the wooden guitar over their shoulders, and set out for the bar as usual.