Lin Feng stood in the backstage passage of "Gear" Livehouse, doing the final psychological construction before going on stage.
He turned his head to look at Ren Yichen beside him, the corners of his mouth could not help but twitch twice.
Although this guy did not wear that silver wig from last time that could blind people's eyes, he changed into an outfit that was even more suffocating. The black tight leather clothes were hung full of meaningless iron chains and zippers, there was even an inexplicable skull shoulder guard, vividly looking like a "Dark Noble" who walked out of an ancient QQ Zone album.
A wave of despairing conjecture surged in Lin Feng's heart—could it be that this guy has a whole cabinet of these clothes? Last time he could still comfort himself that this was Ren Yichen's momentary impulse, but looking at it now, this was clearly a long-premeditated "aesthetic restoration."
Look at the other side again. In order not to let her boyfriend lose face alone, Shen Linyin also attempted to cooperate with this style. She applied extremely heavy smoky makeup, painted black lipstick, and even put on fishnet stockings with holes. However, the cruel reality is: the degree of completion of fashion relies entirely on the face.
She originally wanted to dress herself up as a "decadent Non-Mainstream bad girl," but because of that cold, high-class face and perfect figure, she forcefully wore these street-stall goods into the visual sense of a "High-Cold Gothic Lolita." Not only was there not a bit of tackiness, on the contrary, it was so beautiful it was full of aggressiveness, making people unable to move their eyes away at all.
As for the bassist Lu Mingxuan, this bro wore a dark gray beanie, hiding all his signature long hair inside. Although it was only the change of a hat, his temperament instantly changed from "Melancholy Artist" to "Brooklyn Underground Robber." Apart from this, he was still in a state of his spirit wandering beyond the heavens, as if as long as he had a bass in his hand, even if it was the end of the world, he would be indifferent.
Finally, it was Lin Feng himself... White T-shirt, jeans, hoodie.
He did nothing, focusing mainly on the vibe of "I am a passerby NPC."
Even with the System Mission hovering over his head to "Dominate the crowd with the Dao of Posturing," Lin Feng still had a bottom line for his dignity. He absolutely could not bring himself to synchronize with Ren Yichen's specific brand of "dark aesthetics.
The four people walked onto the stage and began sound check.
This extremely fractured painting style instantly caused the audience below the stage to fall into deep thought.
At this time, a few resident music fans and music critics were sitting sparsely in the scattered seats below the stage.
Old K (Liang Kai), a senior music fan with dreadlocks, was drinking beer. Seeing this scene, the alcohol in his mouth almost sprayed out. He nudged his die-hard friend next to him—Chen Mo, who was wearing cargo pants.
"Hey, Chen Mo, look at this setup?" Old K looked dumbfounded, "On the left are the Shamate and Gothic Goddess who time-traveled from a comic convention, and on the right are the Minimalist Passerby and Underground Robber. This art style is split apart. This kind of intense visual impact is just like pouring a basin of Malatang into an exquisite French thick soup."
Chen Mo frowned, but his eyes gradually became profound: "Old K, you are being superficial. This kind of intense visual impact is definitely not a coincidence. Look, one side is exaggerated nihilism, the other side is indifferent realism. This kind of 50% versus 50% extreme opposition... isn't this a metaphor for the tearing of the contemporary youth's spiritual world?"
Old K froze for a moment, then suddenly realized: "Holy sh*t? You mean—Deconstructionism? Using extreme tackiness to confront extreme indifference? This band has some substance!"
If Lin Feng heard these words, he would absolutely smash the guitar.
Sound check started.
Shen Linyin sat on the drum throne and hit the snare drum once.
"Dong!"
The sound was somewhat muffled.
She furrowed her brows, scowled. That was disdainful dissatisfaction with the equipment. But under the heavy smoky makeup, this frowning action appeared exceptionally cold, cool, and world-weary.
Below the stage, a punk girl named Little Rabbit covered her mouth, her eyes shining: "Heavens! Look at that drummer sister! That look in her eyes after she hit it... that kind of disgust that disdains the whole world! So sassy! This is the true Punk attitude—'I don't find anything pleasing to the eye'!"
Shen Linyin sighed and gave up adjusting. Anyway, it was just a broken Livehouse, just make do with it.
It was Lin Feng's turn.
The sound engineer gave a hand signal: "Give some sound from the guitar."
Lin Feng plucked the strings expressionlessly. In order to quickly end this awkward segment, his fingers, guided by ghosts and gods, instinctively played that melody which had been played rotten in every instrument shop and every park corner in the Chinese-speaking world—
Beyond's "Really Love You".
That cheerful classic intro, full of positive energy and praising motherly love, rang out abruptly in this underground Livehouse that was dim and filled with the smell of smoke, alcohol, and decadent atmosphere.
The audience below the stage instinctively furrowed their brows, generating a kind of physiological resistance.
Chen Mo instinctively covered his ears, a trace of physiological resistance appearing on his face: "No way? Playing 'Really Love You' in this place? Is this some old grandpa who just came out of learning guitar at a music shop? This is too vulgar!"
However, Old K fiercely pressed down Chen Mo's hand, his expression so serious it was like he was researching an academic thesis.
It seemed that Lin Feng's cultivation in the Dao of Posturing had reached a realm of small success. In the next second, the terrifying power of brain supplementation activated once again.
"No! Chen Mo, look carefully at that guitarist's expression!" Old K pointed at the stage, "Look at his cold face that looks like 'a dead pig unafraid of boiling water', and those dead fish eyes with no fluctuations."
Chen Mo looked over; indeed, Lin Feng looked like he had no desire to live.
"In this underground place full of anger and rebellion, deliberately playing the warmest, most secular pop golden hit..." Old K took a deep breath, his voice trembling, "This is irony! This is naked satire! He is using this extreme 'vulgarity' to mock us 'elegant' underground musicians! He is questioning us: have we forgotten the most original love of music for the sake of posturing?"
Little Rabbit nodded desperately beside them: "Yes! This is performance art! Too spicy! Too profound!"
Lin Feng looked at those audience members below the stage who seemed lost in thought and nodded frequently, having only one sentence in his heart: Did this group of people study until they became stupid?
Next was Lu Mingxuan.
The bass line cut in steadily, precise, mechanical, without any superfluous emotion.
"Tool Man" attribute fully opened, efficiency extremely high, zero flaws. Lin Feng had no complaints.
However, Lu Mingxuan himself was sitting on pins and needles. He repeatedly glanced at Ren Yichen and twisted his head away; his titanium alloy dog eyes were blinded by the spiciness, yet he was like a moth flying into the flame, unable to control his cheap gaze from looking again.
It was almost too much even for the stable Tool Man.
Finally, it was the lead singer's turn at last.
Ren Yichen had maintained that posture of "looking up at sadness at a 45-degree angle" from going on stage until now, having not said a single word.
The sound engineer shouted: "Vocalist, test the mic."
Ren Yichen slowly grasped the microphone, took a deep breath, and prepared to speak.
"Wei—"
The instant the sound came out, the whole venue was dead silent.
What kind of sound was that.
Hoarse, broken, as if the throat contained two jin of gravel, and also like an old throat soaked in smoke and alcohol for thirty years.
Obviously, this was because in order to practice this high-difficulty song, he forcefully practiced his throat until it split over these past two days.
Lin Feng's heart tightened: Finished, the performance is screwed this time. How can he sing when his voice is split like this?
However—
The audience below the stage, however, seemed like they were struck by lightning; one by one their eyes widened, and their faces revealed expressions that were close to fanatical.
That "noble" dressed in a full suit of Shamate attire, paired with this broken, painful voice like a broken bellows...
This kind of huge sense of contrast!
"Godly..." Old K muttered to himself, the beer bottle in his hand trembling.
"This tearing sensation! This aesthetics of destruction!" Chen Mo stood up excitedly, "If you only look at his appearance, you would think he is grandstanding. But hearing this voice... Oh my God, he is truly in pain! He is singing with his life!"
Little Rabbit's eyes were even glinting with tears: "Under this Non-Mainstream appearance, hides a heart that has long been broken and old! This is the true Emo!"
Ren Yichen was given a fright by the applause that erupted abruptly below the stage, but immediately revealed a narcissistic grin towards Lin Feng, clearly conveying a triumphant: "See? They get it."
Lin Feng turned his head away expressionlessly, pretending to tune his strings.
The brain-supplementing ability of this audience had already surpassed the system's cheats.
This world, there is no saving it.