Chapter 12: Young Master Qi

As Lin Chuan’s reputation soared, Nightfall Bar’s business grew more prosperous than ever. Owner Xu’s face was adorned with a permanent smile.

By dusk, just as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, crowds had already gathered inside and outside the bar. Most were drawn by Lin Chuan’s fame, eager to witness him in person. Others came purely for his so-called "original" songs. Whatever their reasons, the sheer volume of patrons made the other bar owners on the street green with envy, wondering what kind of miraculous luck had brought Xu such a "genius singer" as a resident performer.

Lin Chuan and Lin Yiyang stepped out of the taxi. Unlike before, they no longer dared to enter openly through the front door. Instead, like thieves, they slipped quietly around to the back.

No sooner had they entered than Xu greeted them with a broad grin. “Haha, Xiao Chuan, you’re finally here! Hurry, get ready—your fans have been waiting ages!”

“Boss Xu, you’ve been scheduling my sets earlier and earlier lately,” Lin Chuan frowned, voicing his displeasure.

He had reason to be dissatisfied. Now, as soon as he arrived at the bar, he was almost immediately rushed onto the stage, and every session stretched on for at least an hour or two. Not even at a formal concert did one sing so endlessly. While the money was decent, this pace was unsustainable; his body—especially his voice—couldn’t endure much more.

Xu’s expression shifted, but he showed no anger. Of course not—Lin Chuan was his golden goose. He couldn’t afford to offend this living treasure.

“Heh, Xiao Chuan, what can I say? You’re a star now! You can’t let your fans down, can you? Don’t worry, you’ll be paid handsomely…”

“Enough, Boss Xu, I’m no star. Don’t put me on a pedestal. Later, when I’m on stage, I’ll have to trouble you to look after Yiyang.”

“No problem! He’s in good hands with me—nothing will happen to the little guy. You just go sing with peace of mind,” Xu promised solemnly.

Lin Chuan nodded, gave Lin Yiyang a few patient reminders as usual, and turned toward the stage.

The moment he emerged, a wave of enthusiastic cheers erupted inside the bar, punctuated by shrill screams—many from excited young women.

“Wow, he’s finally here! Xiao Yue, look, he’s my idol now!” In a corner of the bar, Tang Qinru gushed with starstruck adoration.

Xiao Yue glanced at the stage, snorted dismissively, and lowered her head to sip her drink.

Soon, as the music began, one familiar song after another filled every corner of the bar. Fans sat or stood with drinks in hand, listening quietly to their beloved tunes.

In recent days, Lin Chuan hadn’t performed any new songs. He had plenty in reserve, but he knew better than to reveal all his cards. If some sharp-eyed person took notice and unexpected trouble arose, it would hardly be worth it. He would perform his "originals" when appropriate, but hold back when necessary. Anyway, the buzz from his earlier songs wouldn’t fade any time soon.

And so, song after song, over an hour passed in the blink of an eye. Just as the crowd was still savoring the moment, Lin Chuan put away his guitar and slowly rose to his feet.

A collective sigh of disappointment spread across the room, and many began to clamor, urging him to sing a few more.

But Lin Chuan’s voice was already nearly spent after singing for over an hour. If he pressed on, he’d almost certainly strain it beyond repair. After a few words of apology, he began to make his way offstage.

He hadn’t gone far when a man’s voice rang out from the crowd: “Hold on!”

Lin Chuan paused, turning back, as did the rest of the audience, their gazes drawn to the speaker.

A short distance from the stage stood three men and two women—each exuding the air and bearing of wealthy heirs.

“May I help you?” Lin Chuan asked politely, though he found the situation peculiar.

“You’re that songwriter—Lin… what’s your name again?” A man in his twenties, dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, struggled to recall Lin Chuan’s name.

“Lin Chuan,” he prompted with a smile.

“Yes, Lin Chuan. I hear you’re good at writing songs. Here’s the deal—my girlfriend loves to sing. Write her a couple of songs. Don’t worry, you’ll be paid well,” the young man said, pulling a flamboyantly dressed woman to his side.

Lin Chuan’s brow furrowed. He offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else. I can’t help you.”

Though Lin Chuan wanted to make money, he had nothing but disdain for these rich scions who thought everything could be bought. For a songwriter, every song was a piece of their soul. To sell one off casually for play, as this young man intended, was nothing short of desecration.

He wasn’t a saint, but he couldn’t bring himself to sell his music to someone who didn’t understand it, just for the sake of profit.

The young man wasn’t offended by the refusal. Instead, he pulled out a wad of cash and waved it at Lin Chuan. “I believe this will help you find inspiration!”

With a slap, the cash landed at Lin Chuan’s feet.

Lin Chuan didn’t even glance down, his expression blank. “You’d best find someone else. I really can’t help you.”

“Not enough? No problem—agree to my terms, and all this is yours!” As Lin Chuan turned to leave, the man tossed two more bundles of cash onto the stage.

He was convinced that anyone—especially someone as lowly as a bar singer—would be swayed by enough money. If Lin Chuan refused, it was only because the offer wasn’t high enough.

But even after several tens of thousands had been flung at his feet, Lin Chuan remained unmoved. He turned to leave, which finally provoked the young man’s ire.

“Lin Chuan, I’m giving you the chance to write for me because I think you’re worth it. You’re just a bar singer—what right do you have to act so high and mighty?” the man shouted.

A cold smile tugged at Lin Chuan’s lips as he continued toward the audience without looking back.

The young man, now furious, signaled to his companions, who immediately blocked Lin Chuan’s way, surrounding him.

“Got guts, don’t you? Even dare to disrespect Master Qi?” one burly man said, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

“No need for more talk. He dares offend Master Qi—let’s teach him a lesson!” another, thinner man sneered.

“Daddy!”

Just as tension reached its breaking point, a small boy ran over and grabbed Lin Chuan’s hand.

“Yiyang, what are you doing here? Go back!” Lin Chuan frowned anxiously.

“Gentlemen, I’m terribly sorry. I’m the owner here—my surname’s Xu. If there’s an issue, let’s discuss it,” Xu quickly intervened, appearing from backstage.

“Boss Xu?” The young man, flanked by two garishly dressed women, approached with a mocking smile.

Xu had witnessed the whole scene from backstage. He hadn’t intervened at first, thinking nothing serious would happen. He hadn’t expected this young man to be so aggressive, ready to start a fight at the slightest provocation. Left with no choice, he stepped out to mediate.

“Yes, yes, I’m the owner. Please, have a cigarette and calm down,” Xu said, bowing and scraping as he offered a pack.

“No need for that. I don’t mean anything else—I just want him to write two songs for my woman. I’ll pay, but he’s being ungrateful,” Master Qi snorted.

Xu frowned, glancing at Lin Chuan. Though their partnership was brief, he understood Lin Chuan’s temperament: once he made up his mind, nothing could sway him—not even the boss. But if Lin Chuan refused, Master Qi clearly wouldn’t let it go. Xu was caught in a bind.

Among the fans, indignation simmered at Master Qi’s behavior, but no one dared confront him directly. Wealthy young men like him were not to be trifled with.

In a corner, Tang Qinru and Xiao Yue watched everything unfold. Tang, furious, fumed, “How can they be like this? If Lin Chuan doesn’t want to write, do they think they can force him?”

Xiao Yue frowned too, but her concern was more for Lin Yiyang, who might get hurt if violence broke out.

Her fears were soon realized.

Master Qi turned and strode toward Lin Chuan, but before he could speak, Lin Yiyang suddenly shoved him and planted himself in front of his father. In a childish but angry voice, he declared, “Bad man! Don’t you hurt my daddy!”

“You little brat, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my way!” Master Qi snapped, glaring down before suddenly swinging his hand at the boy.

Lin Yiyang’s face paled with terror, but at the critical moment, Master Qi’s hand froze in midair.

The next instant, Lin Chuan’s face dark with fury, he said coldly, “If you have a problem, settle it with me. Leave my son out of this!”