Chapter 3: A Brand New World

Silence, a deathly silence.
When the song "Ten Years" ended, the entire bar was instantly plunged into stillness.
Standing on stage, Lin Chuan witnessed this strange scene and felt an inexplicable tension rising within him. He was unsure what had caused it—had he made a mistake in his singing?
That couldn't be. In his previous life, Lin Chuan had often sung this song in bars, mastering it to perfection. Making a mistake was highly unlikely.
So what was going on?
Lin Chuan felt uneasy; with so many eyes fixed upon him, it was impossible not to feel intimidated.
Then, just as beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, a few scattered applause broke the silence.
Led by these few, the bar was suddenly filled with the sound of clapping. Many patrons, holding their glasses aloft, rose from their seats, shouting excitedly toward the stage, "Encore!"
Lin Chuan exhaled deeply, instinctively raising his hand to wipe his forehead.
That moment had truly startled him. Yet, after a brief silence, he had never expected the applause to become so fervent.
Watching from backstage, Boss Xu and Lin Yiyang were equally stunned by the scene.
After a long pause, Boss Xu's face lit up with delight. "Well, young man, your father has some real talent!"
"Of course! My dad is the best singer ever!" Lin Yiyang replied, curling his lip in pride.
At that moment, he felt proud to have such a father.
According to Boss Xu's rules, Lin Chuan could sing only three songs on stage. With "Ten Years" finished, he had completed the required number.
Amidst the clamoring shouts, Lin Chuan hugged his acoustic guitar and turned to return backstage.
"Dad!" As soon as Lin Chuan appeared, Lin Yiyang hurried over and threw himself into his father's arms.
Boss Xu, smiling broadly, walked over and, after sizing Lin Chuan up with a look of approval, said slowly, "Xiao Chuan, I didn't realize you were hiding such talent. That last song—did you write it yourself?"
"I wrote it myself? Are you referring to 'Ten Years'?" Lin Chuan was taken aback, confused by the question.
"'Ten Years', that's a good name!" Boss Xu nodded, answering a different question altogether.
Lin Chuan frowned. In his previous life, "Ten Years" was one of Eason Chan's classic hits, known everywhere, almost universally recognized.
Yet, Boss Xu seemed completely unfamiliar with it—an oddity that defied logic.
Thinking this through, Lin Chuan was about to speak when Boss Xu clapped him hard on the shoulder, praising him enthusiastically: "Excellent, truly excellent! A singer who writes his own songs is a rare talent!"
"Uh, Boss Xu..." Lin Chuan replied with an awkward smile, but before he could finish, Boss Xu interrupted him.
He took out his wallet, pulled out five fresh banknotes, and handed them over with a smile: "Here's your pay for tonight. Keep up the good work tomorrow!"
Accepting the five hundred yuan, Lin Chuan felt an unprecedented sense of accomplishment.
It wasn't a huge sum, nor was it insignificant. But for him and Lin Yiyang, it meant they wouldn't have to go hungry or settle for just a bowl of noodles at the noodle shop anymore.

Moreover, the amount was more than originally promised—likely thanks to his performance of "Ten Years."
But then, why did Boss Xu think the song was original? Had he never heard it before? Recalling the audience's enthusiastic reaction after his performance, Lin Chuan's doubts grew.
By the time he left the bar, it was already past ten in the evening.
After the father and son each enjoyed a steaming bowl of wontons at a roadside stall, they walked home, satisfied.
That night was filled with novelty and anticipation for Lin Chuan, and for Lin Yiyang, it brought a warmth he had never known.
The next morning, Lin Chuan left home again, wearing the same old clothes and carrying his acoustic guitar.
Along the way, Lin Yiyang hopped and skipped like other children his age, all the while humming "Ten Years" incessantly.
Though his pitch was off and he remembered few lyrics, it did nothing to diminish his love for the song.
Especially the lyrics—so obscure for a child his age, yet Lin Yiyang immersed himself in them with exaggerated expressions, so deeply that it bordered on obsession.
Whenever he had the chance, Lin Yiyang would stand still, utterly absorbed in his own performance.
Next, the father and son wandered through supermarkets, shopping malls, and music stores, all because Lin Chuan wanted to verify his suspicions.
By midday, Lin Chuan exhaled, his features relaxing.
This world was broadly similar to the one he had known before, but the celebrities, movies, TV shows, songs, and variety programs familiar from his previous life simply didn't exist here.
No wonder Boss Xu found "Ten Years" unfamiliar—it had never existed in this world.
With this realization, Lin Chuan's mood brightened. Armed with memories of his past life and countless classic songs and shows, it felt as though he had been given a cheat code.
He even felt much more confident about the upcoming talent show.
After lunch, the pair visited a large bookstore. Lin Chuan's curiosity about this new world had grown intense, and he wanted to understand it more deeply.
Inside, only a dozen or so people browsed quietly, each absorbed in their chosen books.
Lin Chuan and Lin Yiyang wandered past various sections, finally stopping at the "History and Literature" shelves.
"Dad, how do you read these words?" Lin Yiyang looked up at the sign, studied it for a long time, and finally couldn't help but ask.
Lin Chuan smiled gently, stroking Lin Yiyang's cheek with affection. "Those words say 'History and Literature.'"
"Oh. Dad, when will I learn to read?" Lin Yiyang nodded earnestly, suddenly furrowing his brow.
Lin Chuan was moved by this question. Indeed, at Lin Yiyang's age, he should be attending kindergarten.
He couldn't help but smile bitterly. "Don't worry. Once I earn enough money, I'll send you to a good kindergarten. Then the teachers will help you learn to read!"
"That's wonderful..." Lin Yiyang, unable to contain his excitement, cheered joyfully in place.
Naturally, this drew the attention of the other readers, some of whom looked over with a trace of annoyance.
Seeing this, Lin Chuan quickly knelt down, whispered a few words to Lin Yiyang, and watched as the child promptly covered his mouth with his small hands, glancing fearfully around.

Lin Chuan then took a history book from the shelf and began to read quickly. Lin Yiyang, meanwhile, idly examined the covers of other books.
"Young people these days—so few are interested in history!" After some time, as Lin Chuan was engrossed in the stories, a deep, slightly aged voice spoke beside him.
Lin Chuan turned and saw an elderly man with graying hair, sharp eyes, and a history book in his hands.
"Heh, sir, it's not as bad as you say. Most young people prefer to absorb knowledge online," Lin Chuan replied softly with a smile.
"Maybe so, but out of ten, you won't find two who care for history. The rest are lost in online games... Maybe I'm too old to keep up, but what's so fascinating about these games, that they'd forsake sleep night after night?" The old man shook his head, his face full of disappointment.
Lin Chuan smiled, declining to argue further.
After a while, the old man spoke again. "Young man, you seem interested in history. What do you do for a living?"
"Heh, sir, I sing for a living," Lin Chuan answered, surprised.
"A singer? Are you a star?" the old man exclaimed, blurting out his question.
"You overestimate me—I just sing in bars. If I were a celebrity, I wouldn't have time to read here," Lin Chuan replied with an embarrassed laugh.
The old man nodded without expression, murmuring, "True enough. You don't look much like a star."
"Uh..." Lin Chuan's face changed instantly.
It was the truth, but did it have to be said so bluntly? Still, the man was elderly, so Lin Chuan bore no grudge.
Just as he turned to call Lin Yiyang, ready to leave, he realized the boy was missing.
"Yiyang!" Lin Chuan called softly, but received no reply.
"Lost something?" The old man's brow creased as he asked.
"My son is missing!" Lin Chuan's face showed anxiety as he set down his book and prepared to look elsewhere.
"Your son? You're not that old, yet you already have a child. No need to worry—he won't get lost here. Look carefully; he might be hiding somewhere, reading a storybook," the old man reassured him calmly.
Storybook? The idea struck Lin Chuan—the old man's words were a timely reminder.
After thanking him, Lin Chuan strode toward the children's section, where many storybooks and comics were popular with kids.
No doubt, while Lin Chuan was reading, Lin Yiyang got bored and wandered over there.
Just as Lin Chuan was nearing the children's section, he heard a burst of scolding ahead.
A moment later, he saw a middle-aged woman in a staff uniform, holding a storybook in one hand and pointing at a little boy's forehead with the other.
That little boy was none other than the "missing" Lin Yiyang.