Chapter Forty-Eight: Preparations

The days that followed were much more relaxed. All the preparations for the bar’s opening were proceeding in an orderly fashion. Zhao Kewen said the renovations were nearly complete, and now the main focus was publicity—she needed to rent an advertising space in one of the nearby malls. It wasn’t a small expense, and to be honest, I didn’t agree with her approach; that money could be put to far more practical use in these early days.

The theme rehearsal had officially begun as well. In fact, once the entire program was set, the bar could open its doors at any time. Zhao Kewen was not one for pleasantries—she gave me exactly ten days, meaning our grand opening would be in just over a week.

During these days, Zhao Kewen recruited plenty of male and female students from the university’s dance department. I was a little uneasy about this, since they were all still students whose understanding of life and love was, frankly, a bit naive. I worried their performances might lack depth. But my respected Kewen insisted that the truest love comes from student days; once you’ve seen too much of the world, love loses its innocence. Helpless, I could only follow her arrangements and devote time each day to teaching these young dreamers the scenarios and basic dance moves I’d designed.

Tao Yueran called me last night, assuring me she’d fully support my work, which was a relief, though I was still troubled by the prospect of inviting An Ye out for late-night snacks over the next couple of weeks.

I also called Youqin to discuss whether she should come over for rehearsals. Her voice on the phone was as sweet and gentle as ever, and she didn’t seem to have caught a cold, despite having been drenched in that recent downpour. At that thought, I glanced at the needle marks on the back of my hand and couldn’t help but smile wryly.

For the band, I relied on Sister Shi Yu, since she’d been in the bar business much longer than me and knew more bands—including some that were excellent but had yet to be discovered.

Once all resources were in place, Zhao Kewen took me for my first visit to her “Other Shore” bar. The spacious hall, the elegantly designed dark red front desk, the uniquely styled booths—each different in form—left me in awe. Just how much money had Kewen saved up? The premises and renovations must have cost at least four or five million.

Compared to Fenghua Bar, The Other Shore had already made a breakthrough, especially in its décor and attention to detail, all in line with its “Beyond” theme. Fenghua, by contrast, looked too traditional and old-fashioned—the orderly rows of tables and undecorated floors were clear weaknesses.

The bar’s design exceeded all my expectations. From the meticulous attention to detail to the perfect alignment with the theme, it was all flawlessly executed, boosting my confidence in pulling off a spectacular themed event.

Thereafter, Zhao Kewen became a hands-off boss, leaving me in charge of the theme event. My previously dull and numb life suddenly became busy and colorful. But Kewen wasn’t idle—her duties now involved promoting the bar and delivering opening invitations to all the industry veterans in person.

Time suddenly felt tight. Each day, I led a group of bright young dancers through rehearsals of the musical drama; I even managed to coax Tao Yueran into coming to practice singing. I had no worries about the bands, since Sister Shi Yu had everything arranged, and the set lists had been distributed. As long as the rest of the program was ready, the bands would follow the plan without trouble. Youqin required no attention either—I knew her capabilities better than anyone. As long as she sang with her heart, she was a true professional.

I retrieved a bespoke suit from my college days from my wardrobe, had it dry-cleaned and pressed, and changed into it for work. Truthfully, looking this polished wasn’t my idea—I was too lazy to play the part in front of the students. But after Zhao Kewen’s comment, “You’re the event planner now, little brother. If you show up every day in shorts and a t-shirt, do you want me to get you a pair of slippers too? You look thoroughly unprofessional,” I realized I’d better dress the part if I wanted to command respect from this energetic crowd.

Sitting at a booth in the bar, I sipped a bottle of mineral water and watched their performance—no, really watched. After three intense days of rehearsal, they could now perform the musical almost flawlessly, lacking only an inner spark. But this progress was already rewarding. Their rapid mastery of complex moves and precise timing made me marvel at the vigor of youth.

“Take a break everyone!” I stood up, clapped my hands, and tossed each of them a can of soda.

“Brother Chen, why aren’t you having a drink?” A girl came over, eyeing the bottle of water in my hand.

Her name was Zhang Tongtong, the prettiest and most hardworking among the girls, so she stood out in my memory. During a chat, I’d once asked whether she planned to pursue dance further, but she was still undecided.

“You don’t get it—the older you are, the more you prefer plain water.” I smiled at her.

“You’re not even old!” she retorted, shooting me a look before sitting beside me, sipping her drink and occasionally dabbing sweat from her brow.

I said nothing, just shook my head. In truth, I was only a few years older than them, but a year of post-graduation struggle had aged my heart. Their speech and mannerisms seemed childish to me now, as though a generational gap had already set in.

As I mulled over some plot transitions, a graceful figure appeared before me.

“Hello, Captain Yang!” She was as lively and beautiful as ever, not much changed from our university days—except now her style was even more trendy and striking.

“So you finally made it, Big Star Tao! Didn’t you say you’d support me fully? It’s been three days and you’re just showing up!” I teased her.

“Captain Yang, you’re still blaming me? I’ll just leave, then!”

“Captain Yang” was what Tao Yueran used to call me back in college. The four of us often ditched class to sing, dance, and watch movies—a genuine gang of slackers. Since I was usually the ringleader, she dubbed me “Captain.”

“Don’t, don’t! Calm down, Miss Tao! With you, things will move even faster.” I knew she was joking, so I played along.

Tao Yueran sat down next to me, then looked at Zhang Tongtong on my other side as if discovering something shocking. “Captain, robbing the cradle, are you?”

I almost stumbled—how was I “robbing the cradle”? What wild ideas did this girl have!

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is Zhang Tongtong, my sister’s recruit for the musical. She and the others will be singing with you later.” I glanced at Zhang Tongtong, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and introduced them, “And this is Tao Yueran—you can call her Sister Peach.”

“Oh, sorry! I thought you were Captain Yang’s girlfriend. You’re so pretty!” Tao Yueran apologized with a smile, then shot me a meaningful glance.

“You’re even prettier, Sister Peach. I hope you’ll take care of me.” Blushing, Zhang Tongtong quickly excused herself, “You two chat—I’ll go discuss some moves with the others!”

With that, she hurried off, cheeks still pink.

“My woman’s intuition says she likes you,” Tao Yueran remarked, eyeing Zhang Tongtong’s retreating figure.

“I think you’re the one with wild ideas!” I sighed, exasperated by her relentless teasing.

After this little episode, rehearsals resumed in earnest. With Tao Yueran’s participation, our progress picked up significantly. Everyone threw themselves into perfecting every detail—whether it was Tao Yueran or Zhang Tongtong, their enthusiasm astonished me. Perhaps this was why my own musical journey had stalled—my passion was never so pure.

Time flashed by—another three days passed. After individual rehearsals, group practices, small run-throughs, and finally a full dress rehearsal, our team had transformed from awkward beginners into a polished ensemble. The theme performance was nearly ready; all that remained was the opening night, just two days away.

At last, it was time to step onto the stage. Success or failure—everything would be decided in this moment!

Every day, I not only had to encourage myself, but also keep motivating the other performers. Some of them were here for personal gain, others for friendship, but no matter the reason, everyone wanted to give their best at the bar’s grand opening.

Back home, staring quietly at the ceiling, my mind was unexpectedly calm. Was it because I was confident about the event? Clearly not… Perhaps it was the emptiness that comes only after too much worry.

Almost every night, Zhao Kewen would come by to reassure me, telling me not to worry, that all our efforts would pay off and we would succeed!

But none of us could predict the true outcome—nor dared to hope too much. If we failed, I could accept everyone’s disappointment with me, but I couldn’t bear to see those who had worked so hard be blamed. Most of all, I couldn’t face Zhao Kewen’s trust in me—she had handed such an important event to a newcomer like me.

The bar was her life’s work, but it had also become my battlefield for self-proving. I could fall on this battlefield, but I didn’t want her hard work to be wasted.

Some pressures cannot be soothed with mere words; behind them lie burdens and responsibilities. By now, everything I strove for was no longer just for my own pride, but for all those whose sweat had been shed for this day.

Where does such pressure come from? Not from insult or blame, nor from mockery or ridicule… I stared at the ceiling and closed my eyes.

In truth… the one who puts the greatest pressure on me is you, Kewen.