Chapter Forty-Two: The Eve of Opening

The days that followed were tranquil. By day, Zhao Ke Wen ordered me to roam outside, hoping I would “accidentally” encounter the vibrant, youthful girls she so admired; by night, I would sit alone on the small stone bridge in the west of the city, quietly contemplating the first and most crucial themed event for the bar’s grand opening.

Cradling my guitar on the steps beside the bridge, I idly strummed the strings, sometimes singing a few lines with the rhythm, trying to ease the confusion that had taken root in my mind from having no inspiration.

The Other Shore… What kind of event could truly capture the essence of the Other Shore? How could I express the freedom that breaks through worldly restraints, and the yearning and pursuit for perfect love?

Leaning against the wall of the bridge, I gazed up at the chaotic stars, feeling the cool wind brush my cheek, yet my heart was unsettled… Zhao Ke Wen’s preparations were in full swing, and when I asked her when the bar was expected to open, she merely smiled and said within a month.

I understood her reluctance to share a specific date, fearing it would burden me with pressure. In reality, the opening would likely occur much sooner than a month. Judging from her progress, I estimated the bar would open in about twenty days—perhaps even less!

I put down my guitar, covering my face with both hands, breathing heavily in the thick air, lost and uncertain… What should I do?

I recalled singing at Fenghua Bar years ago. If I followed their approach, I’d use the seasons as a theme—now, at the end of summer, nostalgia could be the tone, with fading passion and farewells at its core. That would be easier, but lacked innovation and wasted the most important opportunity of the bar’s opening night.

I shook my head, dismissing the idea. It was too plain, squandering a precious moment—I couldn’t allow that.

I needed something new, yet still true to the Other Shore’s theme… I rubbed my unkempt hair, watching couples—students, hand in hand—stroll by the bridge.

A thought began to form. What if I added other elements? This was the season of graduation and breakup. If I set broken relationships as the backdrop, then freedom in singlehood could be the soul of the event.

Excitement grew as a complete concept took shape in my mind: open with an emotional song to immerse the audience in the mood of farewell; add narration in the form of a story to deepen the sentiment; in the middle, shift the emotions and steer the theme toward freedom.

Late in the show, wild, passionate rock music would express the price paid for love and the meaning of newfound freedom; finally, gentle acoustic folk would conclude the night, reflecting on love’s significance and the innate longing for liberty.

I played my guitar with exhilaration, my mind still spinning: if I followed this idea, the audience might be too limited—mainly students and young adults just entering society. Even if the opening succeeded, the ripple effect might fizzle out. Clearly, it wouldn’t work to rely entirely on this plan…

Pacing the bridge, I pondered solutions: at the grand opening, most attendees would be competitors from the same industry under the guise of well-wishers. I needed an event that would appeal to many groups, ignite interest in one, then spread to others.

I racked my brain but couldn’t find a perfect answer. A chill breeze made me shiver; when I looked up, the sky had turned oppressive and dark—the stars vanished.

It looked as if rain was imminent. I hurried home, clutching my guitar, repeating my thoughts to myself, strengthening my resolve: this battle could only end in victory!

Halfway back, rain suddenly poured down, icy drops soaking me through. Forced to quicken my pace, I almost ran the rest of the way.

By the time I reached the old building, I was drenched. I cursed the fickle weather, thinking how it resembled Luo Qing’s moods.

On the second floor, I knocked on Zhao Ke Wen’s door, hoping to discuss my idea and get her opinion.

Soon, she opened the door, and I felt my blood rush—a wave of warmth and embarrassment. Tonight, she wore a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, still damp as if she had just finished bathing.

“My little brother, visiting late—what are your orders?” She turned to sit on the sofa, her snowy skin subtly visible between the folds of her robe.

“Uh…” I quickly lowered my gaze, rubbed my nose, and said, “Sister, with the bar opening soon, I want to share my idea for the first themed night and hear your thoughts.”

Zhao Ke Wen smiled softly at my awkwardness and nodded, “Let’s hear it.”

I organized my thoughts and explained the concept that had just taken shape.

After listening, she withdrew her smile, resting her chin in thought. I sat quietly, nervously awaiting her opinion.

“The overall framework is acceptable, but many details need careful consideration. For example, the opening music selection will directly determine the direction of your musical narrative. If the tone isn’t set right, those who came with high expectations may lose interest… And your narration—what perspective will it have? Is it a newly graduated student, a disillusioned young adult, or someone who has struggled in the lower layers of society with nothing to show? Personally, none of these characters fit well with the musical scenario. When the bar opens, most of our first guests will be people from other entertainment businesses, watching and waiting for us to fail. I hope you understand what I mean…” Zhao Ke Wen looked up at me, her expression serious.

I stared at her in surprise. Her words overturned my perception of her. Though she was usually carefree and proud, she possessed unique insights and real talent. She had once told me she hadn’t studied beyond high school, leading me to believe she was just a naïve woman lost in love, but the truth was quite different—her abilities far exceeded my expectations.

I fell silent, reflecting on the core issue Zhao Ke Wen had pointed out—indeed, it was the very problem I couldn’t solve: the limitation of the audience.

“I think, since music is the central theme, it must be music that resolves the problem. The opening emotional stage should be richer—not just a song and a bit of narration. It must be grand, so everyone who comes to mock us realizes they were wrong!” Zhao Ke Wen wiped the moisture from her hair, her cheeks flushed with encouragement. “And that, my little brother, is the real challenge you face!”

I stared at her, momentarily speechless.

“Alright, you’d better get some rest. Seeing you soaked through, I can’t bear it. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about the bar tonight, but your eagerness made it impossible to refuse… Sorry!” Zhao Ke Wen smiled, leaning towards me so I could glimpse a blush at her neckline…

She kissed my forehead gently, then waved me off to rest.

Lying on the wooden bed in my small room, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, just as Zhao Ke Wen had said…