Chapter Thirteen: Passing the Examination Successfully

“Yes, it’s exactly as you’ve heard,” Lin Qihua replied earnestly. “I’ve already debuted, but I offended someone and now have to find my own way. The pay doesn’t matter—I just want to sing. I’ll be returning there in a year, so something temporary suits me better.”

“Alright, I understand. No need to worry about such small things, ‘Huayi’ doesn’t have any say here,” Sister Mei laughed. “We really are lacking a suitable lead singer. The backup vocalist has been stepping in these past few days, but the results have been poor, and guests have started to complain. It’s been troubling us. Good lead singers are hard to find—they’re either tied up with other bars or unwilling to do temporary gigs. If you can satisfy us, everything else will be negotiable. What matters is that you meet our standards.”

“Sister Mei, you can be completely at ease,” Han Dong said with pride. “He’s my junior. I know exactly what he’s capable of. If ‘Huayi’ hadn’t treated him so unfairly, he’d be the next superstar. Consider this an investment—even if he makes it big, he’ll have the experience of working here. That’s something to be proud of, isn’t it?”

“Oh, enough with that,” Sister Mei smiled dismissively, glancing at Lin Qihua. “Strictly speaking, you’re an established singer, brought here by Dongzi, with Sister Lian putting in a word for you. I should just accept you, but I’m straightforward—sometimes to a fault. Since you’re here, you need to show us what you’ve got. Whether you’re a thoroughbred or a workhorse, we want to see you in action, right?”

“Of course,” Lin Qihua nodded. “How do you want to evaluate me?”

“It’s simple,” Sister Mei clapped her hands, calling someone over. “Have the band members come here.”

She turned to Lin Qihua and introduced, “The temporary lead singer we’re recruiting is for one of our three resident bands—the ‘Hellfire’ band. Their lead style is versatile—they can handle hard rock, jazz, whatever. They’re great at setting the mood. What’s your style?”

“I’m versatile too, but I lean more toward soft rock, especially when I accompany myself. But hard rock isn’t a problem either,” Lin Qihua said honestly.

“Good, then let’s try working together and see how it feels. If it works, you’ll do a solo tonight, and from tomorrow you can start practicing with the band.”

“Alright.”

A short while later, four people emerged from the room beside the stage, carrying their instruments and taking their places.

“Let me introduce you,” Sister Mei led the two over. “These are the other members of ‘Hellfire’—Ah Hui, guitarist and backup vocalist; Ningzi on bass; Liu Xing, drummer; and Nana, keyboardist. This is Lin Qihua, auditioning for the lead singer.”

“Hello,” they nodded to each other.

“Now discuss which song to perform. Best to pick something everyone knows for easier collaboration.” Sister Mei nodded at everyone, then gestured for Han Dong and herself to sit off to the side.

Han Dong looked at Lin Qihua with concern, but he knew there was nothing he could do to help. Here, it was all about skill—you either made it or you didn’t. There was no room for bluffing.

“Please take care of me,” Lin Qihua said with a smile. Ah Hui, Ningzi, and Liu Xing all wore long hair, as if it were a standard for bands everywhere, while Nana was a girl with an attractive figure, her features obscured by smoky makeup.

“What songs are you familiar with?” Ah Hui asked coolly, a hint of hostility in his tone.

Lin Qihua understood why. With the lead singer gone, it was the backup’s chance to step up. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to satisfy Sister Mei and missed his opportunity, so it was natural he’d be a little resentful.

“How about ‘Tide of Madness’?” Lin Qihua casually suggested a famous rock song—difficult, but a staple for bar bands.

“Alright, we’ll back you up,” the others nodded, a little surprised but agreeing.

They prepared their instruments and quickly checked their individual sounds. They weren’t truly in sync, but as long as everyone knew the song, the outcome would depend on Lin Qihua’s performance.

A powerful sweep of the strings rang out—Ah Hui showing off his impressive technique. It was a challenging strumming style. The drums kicked in, injecting dynamic rhythm.

Lin Qihua knew this was a challenge, a test, but he simply smiled and quickly plucked his strings, matching their tempo. He drew a deep breath, and as the intro faded, grabbed the microphone and let out a hoarse scream—“Ahh—!”

Sister Mei, sitting up front, felt the hairs on her arms stand up. “Such powerful emotion, and what a penetrating high note.”

“Three years in training camp, honed to perfection. His vocal control is unparalleled, and that’s despite rarely singing hard rock,” Han Dong said proudly.

“Let’s keep listening.”

“Love is a tide of madness,
Rushing in wild,
Ebbing away in waves.”

Lin Qihua adjusted his breath, singing in time with the rhythm. “Tide of Madness” was a song that demanded high notes, beyond the reach of most. If you relied on raw vocal power, you’d ruin your voice after just one performance. The key was in the use of breathy tones—without sharpness, yet delivering a howl, a wildness. It was a real challenge, but since Lin Qihua had chosen it, he was clearly confident. Breath control was his specialty, drilled into him from childhood by the old masters, whose expertise in this area could outshine pop singers any day. Thanks to their guidance, Lin Qihua’s use of breathy tone was always excellent, and by roughening his voice, he met the song’s demands perfectly. With the wild rhythm, wave after wave of high notes crashed down, not only shocking the band members but stunning Sister Mei and Han Dong as well. Especially Sister Mei—she’d heard their previous lead tackle this song, but only after lowering the key and straining through it, and the effect was nothing compared to Lin Qihua’s version. The result was already clear.

“So this is the gulf between formal training and self-taught singers?” Sister Mei murmured.

“Tsk, tsk,” Han Dong shook his head with a grin. “‘Huayi’ always produces the best, and this is top-tier even among their best. The old man’s going to regret letting him go, just wait and see.”

“And you’re saying this isn’t even his best style?”

“Of course not. He could move trainers to tears in camp, and when he sings love songs, it’s like he’s tugging at your heart.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to his performance tonight,” Sister Mei said.

“Sister Mei,” Han Dong said seriously, “this kid isn’t like the others. He doesn’t belong here—his real place is on the big stage. I hope you’ll look after him and not let anyone push him around. He’s strict with himself—never touches alcohol. I hope you won’t let anyone force him to drink. Those female customers can get wild too, so please take care of him.”

“You nag too much, I get it.” Sister Mei shot Han Dong a look. “As long as he doesn’t want it, no one can bully him. Is that good enough?”

“Heh, thanks, Sister Mei,” Han Dong said with a silly grin.

“You act like a child. Sister Lian is so nice—why do you avoid her?”

“Ah, nice or not, it’s just not a good fit. Nothing you say will change that, right?” Han Dong pulled a face, unwilling to discuss it further.

Sister Mei rolled her eyes at him, then, seeing the performance had ended, applauded, “Alright, thank you. That’s enough for now.”

“Thank you.” Having finished, Lin Qihua was drenched in sweat. He glanced back at the complex expressions of the others and gave a slight bow. “Thanks for your support.”

Ah Hui was silent for a moment, then reached out his hand. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome,” the others chimed in.

“Thank you.” Lin Qihua shook Ah Hui’s hand, delighted that he’d earned their approval.

“You did great. There’s no reason not to accept you,” Sister Mei came over, smiling. “Your official shift starts tonight—eight p.m. to two a.m., five hundred a night plus commissions as appropriate. Any issues?”

“No problem,” Lin Qihua said easily. He didn’t spend much, and this was a good deal—five hundred a night added up nicely. It might not match a white-collar salary, but the commissions were the real draw. When customers were excited by a performance, they’d order more drinks, and the bar would reward the singer accordingly. If a customer liked your act enough to request a special performance, the fee would be split between the bar and the singer—a significant source of income.

“You said you’re better with soft rock and love songs—I’m really looking forward to your show tonight.” They signed the contract, and Sister Mei shook Lin Qihua’s hand with an expectant smile.

“Thank you, I’ll prepare well.”

The bar closed in the mornings for rest, with the afternoons reserved for band practice and staff preparations. It opened at eight and ran until two. With no time for practice today, Lin Qihua was scheduled to do a solo tonight, while Ah Hui would remain as the band’s lead for the evening’s set.

With everything settled, Lin Qihua and Han Dong returned to their place. Starting tomorrow, Lin Qihua would be at the bar from noon, including dinner—which meant boxed meals.

Back at their lodgings, Han Dong was visibly excited—it had been a long time since he’d seen Lin Qihua perform, and he was even better than expected.

Lin Qihua listened to his rambling with a gentle smile. Skill wasn’t everything. What mattered most was that, compared to before, his confidence had grown immensely. He had a deeper understanding of control, and knew better how to move a crowd. That kind of awareness came with newfound self-assurance. When you believed in your own abilities, you had the energy to focus on other things—and that was how you improved, bit by bit.