Chapter 1: For the Sake of Her Son

Lin Chuan opened his drowsy eyes, a splitting headache pounding in his skull, his mouth parched and dry, his entire body drained of strength. As he looked around, he was taken aback—everything surrounding him was utterly unfamiliar.

The room was small and crude, barely more than twenty square meters. In the center stood an old wooden dining table, scattered with rice grains and circled by a few buzzing flies. In one corner, a battered guitar lay quietly on the floor, cloaked in a thick layer of dust from long neglect. The air was tinged with a faint, musty odor that turned Lin Chuan’s stomach, making him feel nauseous.

“Daddy, have some water. You’ll feel better after you drink,” a childish voice sounded at the bedside.

Lin Chuan turned his head to find a boy of four or five, holding a porcelain cup with a chip glaringly obvious at the rim. The child was thin and frail, yet his face was clean and tidy—a contrast to their surroundings. With delicate, handsome features and a hint of mixed heritage, the boy was instantly endearing.

Lin Chuan frowned, startled to hear the boy call him “Daddy.”

“When did I become a father? Why don’t I remember?” he muttered.

Suddenly, his mind buzzed as if struck by lightning. Images and memories surged forth, a torrent of information flooding his brain like scenes from a movie. Pressed by pain, Lin Chuan absorbed and merged with these memories. Minutes passed; as the agony faded from his face, astonishment and bewilderment took its place.

“Daddy, are you alright? Does your head still hurt?” the boy asked, worry etched in his small face.

“I’m fine,” Lin Chuan replied with a gentle smile, taking the cup from the boy and ruffling his hair with fatherly affection.

In those moments of merging memories, Lin Chuan had come to understand everything. The handsome little boy before him was Lin Yiyang, his own son. Or, to put it another way, his son in this new life.

In his previous life, Lin Chuan had been an ordinary office worker, moonlighting as a bar singer at night to earn a little extra. He had once nursed dreams of becoming an idol singer, but time wore those dreams thin until he buried them deep in his heart. In this life, however, he was a street musician, passionately devoted to music despite an uncertain future—never once did he give up.

Yet, the woman who had wandered with him for years and was willing to share his hardships left soon after giving birth to Lin Yiyang. Lin Chuan could only smile bitterly at the thought; the events had been so melodramatic that he preferred not to dwell on them.

Perhaps it was the fusion of memories and emotions, but Lin Chuan found himself accepting—and even growing fond of—his new son.

“Are you hungry?” Lin Chuan asked, taking a sip of water.

“I’m not hungry, Daddy,” Lin Yiyang replied, sensible far beyond his years.

Lin Chuan knew this life was one of poverty; even the little money he had was spent on alcohol. The empty bottles piled high around the bed bore witness to this.

“I really don’t know how I’ve managed to survive,” he muttered wryly. He turned to Lin Yiyang, saying, “Go play for a bit. I’ll make you something to eat soon.”

Lin Yiyang nodded and wandered to an empty spot on the floor. He sat down, somehow produced a crumpled poster, and began folding it into a paper airplane.

Watching him, Lin Chuan was overcome with guilt. Such a young child, forced to follow him through hardship, living a life where each meal was uncertain. At that moment, Lin Chuan made up his mind: no matter what, he would find a way to earn money—even if only enough to keep them fed, it would be better than their current state.

Just as he was forming his plan, his phone suddenly rang.

“Hello?” Lin Chuan answered, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, Chuanzi, now I have to pay your phone bill just to reach you. What kind of life are you living?” an irate male voice shouted from the other end.

Phone bill? Lin Chuan was momentarily confused, but then recalled the fragmented memory of his phone being out of service for two or three days due to unpaid bills.

He chuckled awkwardly, apologizing, “Sorry, I’ve been busy these past few days and forgot about the phone. Thanks for your help. I’ll treat you to a meal sometime.”

“Forget it. No need for formalities,” the man replied. “By the way, I found you a job. Not sure if you’ll take it—it’s singing at a bar.”

“A bar gig? Of course I’ll do it! Where is it?” Lin Chuan’s eyes lit up. He hadn’t expected a job to fall into his lap just as he was considering how to find one.

His quick agreement surprised the man on the other end. After a pause, he said, “You’re sure you want to go?”

“Absolutely. Any job that pays, I’ll take,” Lin Chuan replied with a smile.

“Alright, then. Go to Nightfall Bar this afternoon and mention my name,” the man said, giving him the bar’s address.

After hanging up, Lin Chuan exhaled in relief. No matter what, this was a first step forward. With Lin Yiyang folding paper airplanes on the floor, Lin Chuan felt a surge of comfort and a renewed sense of responsibility as a father.

The man on the phone was Yuan Ye, Lin Chuan’s lifelong friend. Yuan Ye came from a well-off family; his father was the director of a TV station, and his mother a homemaker. The two had been inseparable from primary school through university. After graduation, Yuan Ye returned home to work at the TV station, while Lin Chuan, chasing his musical dream, moved to this city. Thus, they parted ways.

Yuan Ye knew all about Lin Chuan’s struggles and had often urged him to return and work at the TV station, but Lin Chuan always refused. Yuan Ye had even found him several jobs through friends, all of which Lin Chuan also turned down. This time, Yuan Ye had little hope, but was surprised to find Lin Chuan accepting so easily.

Getting out of bed, Lin Chuan didn’t disturb his son, but went to the tiny bathroom to freshen up. He stared at the stubbled, weary face in the mirror and gave a bitter laugh. With no razor at home, he could only sigh and leave.

Back in the room, pulling on his clothes, he glanced at Lin Yiyang. Suddenly, a spark lit in his eyes. He strode over and snatched the paper airplane—the crumpled poster—from Lin Yiyang’s hands.

The boy looked up in confusion, startled by his father’s abrupt action.

Unfolding the poster, Lin Chuan scanned it quickly. It was an advertisement for a talent show, featuring prominent judges from the music world and highlighting the show’s unique features. But what truly caught his eye was the generous prize awaiting the champion.

For Lin Chuan, changing his circumstances and improving their quality of life was now imperative; after all, he wasn’t alone—he had a son to care for.

“Deadline: May 15th…” Lin Chuan muttered, frowning. His memories were hazy on the date—he had no idea what day it was.

“Daddy, today is May 15th,” Lin Yiyang piped up timidly from the floor.

“Today? So today’s the last day to sign up?” Lin Chuan repeated, then suddenly said, “Come on, let’s go buy you something delicious!”

A rare smile lit up Lin Yiyang’s face. He nodded eagerly, grasped Lin Chuan’s large hand, and skipped out the door alongside his father.

The talent show’s registration was at an office building on a commercial street in Beining City. Lin Chuan and Lin Yiyang took the bus downtown and walked to the building.

“Who are you looking for?” a woman in professional attire with an ordinary appearance asked, frowning, as they arrived on the registration floor.

“Excuse me, is this where I sign up for ‘A Song to Fame’?” Lin Chuan asked softly, holding Lin Yiyang’s hand.

“Yes. Are you applying?” the woman looked him up and down, a trace of disdain flickering in her eyes.

It was little wonder. Lin Chuan’s appearance was disheveled—his hair unkempt and long enough to nearly cover his eyebrows and ears, his face shadowed with stubble and sallow, his yellowed T-shirt and faded jeans contrasting with the battered guitar slung over his back. No matter how you looked at him, he was barely a step above a beggar.