Chapter 56: The Quartet of Weakness

"You'll have to talk to my brother about this. I don't handle company affairs—he's in charge of all that."

"I already spoke to your brother," the man replied. "He said this falls under your responsibility, with the music planning department. If you want to sign him, your company can sign Yao Ming. If not, just forget it."

Huang Guolun inwardly cursed his luck. He had never once dealt with the music planning department. His brother was clearly passing the buck onto him.

Sensing Huang Guolun’s hesitation, Yao Dajun said, "Don’t worry about it. If you can’t help, just let it go. The boy’s not cut out for singing anyway, but he insists on this path. Let him stew for a few more years—he’ll eventually learn what he’s really meant to do."

Huang Guolun had never met Yao Ming, nor heard him sing, but he’d listened to his brother Kun talk about him.

That kid was infamously rebellious.

He’d dropped out before finishing high school.

Ignoring his family’s pleas, he’d gone to Shijiazhuang—China’s rock ‘n’ roll capital—to attend a rock music school.

He spent three years there.

Rumor had it he performed in quite a few bars in Shijiazhuang, but in the end he was living hand to mouth and finally limped back home, half-starved.

Even after returning, he was as stubborn as ever—refused a proper job, kept chasing his dream by forming bands, determined to stick with rock no matter what.

Whether it was lack of talent or simply bad luck, Yao Ming hadn’t made much headway in the capital these past two years either. He scraped by, singing in various bars, barely making enough to feed himself monthly.

Yet his passion never waned.

Then, early last year, disaster struck his band.

Three of the boys in the group secretly got involved with drugs and were sent to a rehab center.

The band instantly fell apart.

This hit Yao Ming hard.

Though rebellious, he wasn’t completely reckless. He knew where his bottom line was—never touch those things. He’d warned his bandmates, swearing they’d sooner die than mess with that poison.

But those kids, crushed by the pressure, still went down the wrong road.

After that blow, Yao Ming didn’t want to do bands anymore, nor linger in that circle. He decided to take a route that underground rockers like him used to scorn—the “straight and narrow”—and try to make a name for himself through talent shows, to pursue music with real direction.

Before auditioning for "Super Boys," he’d tried for several talent shows like "The Voice" and "My Style, My Show"—but was eliminated every time.

Still, he never lost heart and kept going.

His family was beside themselves with worry.

They were convinced he wasn’t meant to sing, yet he insisted on banging his head against that wall, wasting his best years.

If he kept this up a few more years, he’d be ruined.

Now Yao Dajun vented to Huang Guolun, "Kids these days—I don’t know what’s going on in their heads. You can’t reason with them. Once they set their mind to a path, nothing will budge them—not until they hit a dead end or see disaster with their own eyes. They just don’t know how to adapt."

He took a sip of water and continued, "I begged my boss to find him a job, sent him to Inner Mongolia to oversee a project and learn the ropes. Later, he could follow in my boss’s footsteps—not become a big shot, maybe, but he’d live well. The salary was good, too. This clueless kid, four thousand a month, room and board included, and a year-end bonus! Not bad, right? Sure, the construction site in Inner Mongolia is tough, but after two years, he’d be back and my boss would give him an even better job. The whole point was to toughen him up. But no matter what, he refused. I said I’d add two thousand a month—six thousand! Isn’t that enough? You know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said, ‘Uncle, I appreciate your kindness, but even if you offered sixty thousand a month, I still wouldn’t go eat dust on a construction site in Inner Mongolia! As long as I can sing, even a thousand a month is enough. One day, I’ll make it.’ And then he quoted some nonsense about being undeterred even if the whole world opposed him. Honestly, what rubbish!”

"What he means is, no matter how hard the road, he’s willing to walk it."

"I get what he means, but why bother? If he really had talent, the family would pull some strings and get him noticed. But he doesn’t! I’ve heard him sing—it’s dreadful! Worse than Mao Qiu’s caterwauling! And he still dreams of making it big—delusional! I think the boy’s gone mad."

"And yet you’re still trying to help him?"

"What choice do I have? He’s my nephew. My thinking is: if I give him every possible chance, let him see for himself that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t make it, maybe then he’ll give up."

Huang Guolun admired Yao Ming’s passion for music.

But if he truly lacked the talent, or simply wasn’t cut out for music, yet stubbornly forged ahead, then it was just foolishness.

Music should nurture the soul and bring beauty, not become a road to ruin.

"Honestly, I’m out of ideas. If you can give him a chance, try. Don’t let him keep crashing about blindly. If you really can’t, just let him blunder on for a few more years. When he finally realizes all roads are dead ends and no effort brings results, then maybe he’ll understand what really matters for him."

"Alright, I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll see if I can help."

Yao Dajun’s eyes lit up, hope flickering. “So your company will give him a shot?”

“I’ll first see if he’s got any talent. If he really is as bad as you say, worse than Mao Qiu, then there’s no point—just a waste of everyone’s time and energy. If so, I’ll try to talk some sense into him.”

“Then I’ll set up a dinner for you two to meet and chat.”

“Alright, but it’ll have to be in a couple of weeks. My brother’s company is about to launch a new film, and things will be hectic. I’ve got things to handle myself. I’ll get in touch in a couple of weeks, and we’ll arrange something with Yao Ming. If your nephew has any potential, I’ll do what I can for him.”

“Great, that’s all I can ask. Sorry to trouble you with this kid.”

“Don’t worry. If he’s got something, I’ll make sure he shines.”

Now, with his extraordinary hearing and abundant talent, Huang Guolun was confident in honing anyone with musical potential into something truly brilliant.

But the prerequisite was that Yao Ming had to be like jade—if not a rough gem, then at least a worthy stone that could be sculpted. If he was nothing but a pile of loose sand, there’d be no point in trying.

In any case, Huang Guolun made a mental note of the matter.

With everything aired out, Yao Dajun felt the weight lift from his heart and cheerfully accompanied Huang Guolun to the pool hall.

Soon enough, Mao Qiu and Yang Zi arrived.

The four old friends hadn’t seen each other for ages, so the banter and teasing flew thick and fast, each vowing to “slice the others like melons” on the pool table.

Their skills, however, were on par—neither good nor bad.

After two hours of play, victories and defeats traded hands, and they drank enough cola to feel thoroughly stuffed.

Each of them downed over ten cans, but none would go to the restroom; instead, they jeered that whoever caved first was a wimp.

At last, Yao Dajun couldn’t hold it any longer—his face turned green, his bladder about to burst, and he was the first to dash to the restroom.

The others teased him mercilessly for his “weak kidneys,” but soon enough, the urge caught up with them too, and one by one they followed.

Once was never enough—every time they played another round and drank more cola, off they’d go again.

In the end, their frequent dashes to the restroom became a spectacle in the pool hall, with the younger crowd dubbing them “the Four Kidney Weaklings.”

But Huang Guolun and his friends didn’t care what others thought—they were having a blast.

By six o’clock, the four left the pool hall, piled into the Phaeton, and headed straight for a Mongolian yurt in Qinghe for roast lamb leg.

Normally, Huang Guolun wasn’t much of a drinker, but with his buddies, abstaining was not an option—anyone who didn’t drink was a wimp!

Everyone was in high spirits, drinking and talking freely.

As the drinks flowed and laughter rang out, Huang Guolun didn’t forget Sun Yanzhen’s birthday party. At seven-thirty, he was ready to slip away to the bar on the South Third Ring Road.

But his friends wouldn’t let him leave so easily. They kept pouring him drinks for another half hour until his eyes were glazed with intoxication before finally letting him go.

Before leaving, Huang Guolun insisted on paying for the meal, but Yao Dajun refused—he and the others weren’t done drinking yet. Yao Dajun told Huang Guolun to get going, promising to let him host next time.

Huang Guolun didn’t argue. He downed another glass as a forfeit, apologized to his friends, and hurried out of the yurt. He flagged a cab from the North Fifth Ring straight to the Mark Tupper Bar on the South Third Ring.

As soon as he got in the car, he called Sun Yanzhen to say he’d be a bit late.

Sun Yanzhen was already having fun with her friends and didn’t mind his tardiness.

If the roads were clear, Huang Guolun would have arrived in half an hour.

But fate intervened—a major traffic jam, an accident on the Fourth Ring, and it was ages before the traffic moved again.

By the time he reached Mark Tupper Bar, it was nearly a quarter past nine.

Sun Yanzhen and her friends had already been partying for over an hour.

On the way, the night breeze had sobered Huang Guolun up quite a bit.

At the bar entrance, he called Sun Yanzhen to let her know he’d arrived.

She was in the restroom, touching up her makeup. Hearing he’d finally arrived, she looked in the mirror, dabbing on BB cream, and complained, “You’re something else! When you said you’d be a little late, I didn’t know you meant over an hour! I almost thought you weren’t coming!”

“Sorry, sorry—huge traffic jam on the Fourth Ring. I’ll make it up to you with a drink later.”

“At least three!”

“Alright, as many as you say. It’s your birthday—you’re the boss tonight.”

“That’s more like it! Hehe, come on in, everyone here is a friend of mine—no outsiders. Find the booth with the most girls, tell them you’re Teacher Huang—they all know you, and they’re waiting for you, hehe.”

Sun Yanzhen’s laughter made Huang Guolun a little uneasy. “Why are they waiting for me?”

“You’ll see when you get in.”

“You’re not here yet?”

“I’m in the restroom—be out in a minute.”

“Alright, see you soon. Happy eighteenth birthday.”

After a night of drinking with his friends, Huang Guolun was in high spirits, his words as sweet as peaches.

Sun Yanzhen, delighted by his compliment, touched up her makeup with even greater care.