The lights on the stage were dim, leaving only a single follow-spot shining on the lead singer, Ren Yichen.
In that suffocating silence, Ren Yichen finally remembered his duty as the lead singer—announcing the act. He gripped the microphone, that hand wrapped in bandages of unknown significance, appearing exceptionally chuunibyou.
"Hello everyone," Ren Yichen's voice, because his throat was hoarse, sounded with a sandpaper-like texture that had been through the vicissitudes of life, "We are..."
Speaking up to here, he got stuck.
These past few days he had focused solely on practicing the song and sorting out this Shamate styling, completely forgetting the matter of naming the band. His mind was a blank sheet; he only remembered a single line he had casually written when filling out the registration form back then.
Thus, he braced himself and read aloud in a heavy tone, as if reading a death sentence:
"We are—Ren Yichen Band (Tentative)."
He even read the two words "Tentative" inside the parentheses with perfect articulation and a righteous accent.
Backstage, Lin Feng almost threw his guitar. Big brother, can you do it or not? You dare to read even this name?
However, the reaction off-stage once again refreshed Lin Feng's worldview.
Old K slapped his thigh fiercely, his face flushed red with excitement: "Absolutely brilliant! 'Tentative'! Did you hear that, Chen Mo? A name is just a code, it is uncertain, it is fluid! They took the state of being 'unfinished' and used it directly as a name! This is the greatest mockery of those bands in the music scene who rack their brains to come up with cool names! This kind of inadvertent casualness, it's too fucking punk!"
Chen Mo pushed up his glasses, deeply agreeing: "That's right, this is called 'anti-definition.' They refuse to be defined, so they are forever 'Tentative'."
Listening to the faint sounds of praise coming from below the stage, the corner of Lin Feng's mouth twitched. Just how are these people's brain circuits wired?
"The song we bring," Ren Yichen ignored the commotion off-stage and continued speaking with that broken-gong voice, "is 'Carving the Boat'."
As soon as the voice fell, the drums erupted.
The drumsticks in Shen Linyin's hands turned into afterimages. Although she wore extremely exaggerated smoky makeup, looking like a world-weary delinquent girl, the work under her hands was terrifyingly meticulous. This was an extremely complex polyrhythm; the off-beat syncopation was dazzling, yet it carried a weird "brainwashing" magic, as if endlessly beating a certain frequency of anxiety upon the human eardrum.
Immediately after, the bass entered the field.
All along, Lu Mingxuan had been an existence like a precision instrument. His "Obsidian Mentality" allowed him to ignore all interference, steady as a metronome.
But today, this piece of obsidian cracked.
Because from where he stood, he could clearly see the leather jacket covered in iron chains on Ren Yichen, as well as the "fashion design" on his pants that had probably over a hundred zippers. Every time he turned his head, those metal accessories refracted blinding rays under the lights.
This was a kind of S-class mental pollution.
Even Lu Mingxuan, whose heart was like still water, could not help but let his finger tremble involuntarily when he saw those pants of Ren Yichen's that were about to fall off.
"Buzz——"
The bass note that should have landed precisely was off by a quarter of a semitone, and it produced a slide sound that was not written in the score. That was a physiological distortion produced by extreme awkwardness.
Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat: It's over, the bass ran away!
Just at this moment, the system notification sound rang out abruptly.
[Ding! Detected that unexpected "condiments" and "MSG" have mixed into the music.] [The originally mediocre accompaniment has essentially produced a kind of "grotesque swing sensation," artistry increased!] [Song rating temporarily raised to: C+ (Premium)]
Lin Feng: "..."
This is also okay? Because he was so ugly he made his teammate's hand shake, it became a stroke of genius instead?
Before Lin Feng could finish thinking, that comical and twisted bass note happened to end, and it was his turn. He did not show off technique, merely gently plucking the strings; a few sparse harmonics were like scattering a handful of cold green onions into this pot of strong, chaotic soup base.
After this foreshadowing full of tension, Ren Yichen finally opened his mouth.
He closed his eyes, his throat sounding as if it contained two pieces of red-hot charcoal, and let out a tearing roar:
"Drawing a cake to satisfy hunger, swallowing three thousand weak waters,
Who is carving the boat to seek the sword, waiting for the big waves to return east?
The compassion of guarding a tree stump waiting for a rabbit, is merely the hypocrisy of a Nanke dream,
The absolute of pointing at a deer and calling it a horse, exchanges for the embarrassment of buying the box and returning the pearl."
Once the lyrics came out, the whole venue went into an uproar.
This song "Carving the Boat" was written by Lin Feng under the blessing of the system's "Sage of Lyrics buff." At that time, all he thought about in his brain was "piling up ornate diction" and "deliberately making things mysterious"—the more profound the better, forcibly stringing a bunch of idioms together, mainly aiming for a vibe where people wouldn't understand but would think it was very formidable.
But under the interpretation of Ren Yichen's damaged voice, these lyrics seemed to possess life.
That was not reciting a dictionary of idioms; that was a bloody and tearful accusation against the absurdity of worldly conventions!
"Blind men touching an elephant, touching the back of this world,
Covering ears to steal a bell, unable to hear the humbleness of all living things.
You are the exhaustion of the Guizhou donkey's skills, I am the sin of breaking cauldrons and sinking boats,
Inside that mirror flower and water moon, clinking cups with a shadow."
Old K listened below the stage until his scalp went numb, goosebumps rising all over his body.
"Too ruthless... too ruthless..." He muttered to himself, "How are these lyrics? This is simply modern poetry! Using the most ancient allusions to satirize the most modern nothingness! 'The exhaustion of the Guizhou donkey's skills'—isn't this singing about us small characters struggling in life?"
"'Clinking cups with a shadow'..." Little Rabbit beside him was already shedding tears, "Paired with the lead singer's voice that sounds half-dead, I feel an extreme loneliness. He isn't singing, he is vomiting blood!"
On the stage, Lin Feng played the guitar while looking at the audience below who were mesmerized, intoxicated, and even starting to wipe away tears, falling into deep contemplation.
Even though this was what he wanted to happen, why did he want to cry?