Chapter 121: Choosing the Song (210 Monthly Tickets Bonus Chapter)

“Girl… come here… don’t listen to your nephew, he’s no good either. Come on, follow auntie behind the desk.” Liu Baishi, who had been sitting quietly at the back, finally spoke. She pulled the little aunt behind the counter and then glanced back at Hong Tao with a look of slight disgust.

“Well, the money’s spent, the effort’s been made, and in the end, no good came of it. I tell you, kid, you’re really something else. Why not just beat him up and be done with it? But no, you had to crack his head open. You must be dark-hearted!” Han Xue started making sarcastic remarks from the side.

“Whether dark or light doesn’t matter. Don’t those people you found know you? Who else would know you’re here with me now?” Hong Tao didn’t care if anyone appreciated it or not—he just needed to clean up his act first.

“They don’t know. I only gave them the photos, just like you said. Even Yanzi and I haven’t told anyone at home. Don’t worry, even if I’m stupid, I know how to keep a safe place for myself.” Han Xue understood exactly what Hong Tao was asking.

“That’s right. It never hurts to be a little cautious. Now that you have a decent job and our little house is almost built, I’ll teach you a skill soon. You’ll be making money hand over fist. Then I’ll help you find a boyfriend, and you’ll settle down for life. But on the other hand, don’t cut ties with those people completely. My fragile body might need their help someday. Having money isn’t enough; you need connections too!” Hong Tao hadn’t quite gotten tired of lecturing the little aunt, so now he decided to use Han Xue to practice. He realized he was starting to resemble his father, developing an interest in preaching.

“Thanks for the trouble, but you don’t need to worry about me. Save your skills for Yanzi—she’s not even grown up yet. Always acting so grown-up at my place. Go cool off somewhere else!” Han Xue always resisted Hong Tao’s lectures. She rolled her eyes again and turned to leave.

“Hey, buddy, hurry up and grow! This room is full of cabbages, and I can’t even budge one. Such a waste!” Hong Tao sighed as he looked at himself in the dressing mirror, then thought about Han Xue’s slender waist and round hips as she walked away, feeling a pang of regret.

No one knew what Liu Baishi had said to the little aunt, but her mood clearly improved. According to her cousin, from that day on, she never cried secretly at night nor complained about her reputation again. Hong Tao felt his two cigarettes were a waste. If he had known Liu Baishi had such ability, he would have sent her in directly—saving money and effort.

In mid-April, Hong Tao received a new task from a teacher—this time not the PE teacher, but the music teacher.

The Red May Singing Contest was an annual event held in primary and secondary schools around Youth Day. Last year, Hong Tao participated with the whole class singing together, just within the school. But this year was different. The district required each school to hold internal preliminary contests. Then, for primary, middle, and high schools, one group project and one solo project would be selected to compete at the Youth Palace on Youth Day.

Hong Tao wasn’t interested in singing. The songs were always the same few, judged on vocal ability and group coordination—no entertainment value. But the music teacher insisted Hong Tao sign up for the solo competition.

Hong Tao didn’t dislike the music teacher just because she was amusing to look at; he also appreciated her childlike innocence. This teacher never lost her temper with any students in the two classes Hong Tao attended. Her voice was always soft, more like a kindergarten teacher. She loved music, too. Although only a graduate of a normal school for elementary education, she played piano beautifully and enjoyed listening to Hong Tao’s performances of songs from the future. During music class, she would often take time to duet with Hong Tao on the accordion, listening as he played and sang.

Most importantly, she respected people. Whether you were a child or not, she never forced Hong Tao or other children to do anything beyond the classroom rules. Even if they accidentally broke rules, she would gently remind and coax them to correct their mistakes with a smile.

Hong Tao admired this greatly. For a lower elementary teacher, lacking patience to help children correct mistakes is useless, no matter how much knowledge she had. At this age, learning is secondary; the main goal is to make children interested in studying, not scare them with harsh looks.

Besides, Hong Tao trusted this teacher. She never publicized the songs he sang, which she had never heard before, nor pressured him about their origins. She asked, but never forced him. Although Hong Tao tacitly accepted her memorizing lyrics, she never spread them outside, not even humming them in front of other teachers. At least, Hong Tao never saw her do that. Such a lovely, respectable young teacher made a small request—Hong Tao felt it would be inhuman not to comply.

“But the songs I sing might not suit other teachers’ tastes, or fit the times. The results might not be good, right?” Hong Tao wasn’t trying to show off his singing or accordion skills. He was just bored. In this era, he couldn’t find much entertainment, so he treated music class like a karaoke hall visit from a past life, belting out a few tunes to relieve some pent-up feelings, as a sort of self-therapy. Otherwise, having to hang out with kids all day and pretending to be one would eventually drive him crazy.

But using those songs for competition was different. Although reform and opening up had begun, it was still in its infancy. The actions were there, but the mindset lagged behind. Songs were judged not by how pleasant they sounded, but by whether their content was healthy and their spirit positive. Due to the era’s differences, even the most wholesome songs from the future would be considered decadent music now. Teacher Li Guyi’s “Country Love” was a vivid example—adults couldn’t accept it, let alone a child.

“I understand. I don’t care about winning or losing. I just feel that if I don’t let you sing, I’d be lying, because in my eyes, you have the best musical talent in the school. I always tell my students to be honest, so I can’t lie myself. I know you write other songs. You should be able to write something less rebellious. Give it a try. I know you don’t want to be a musician or really like singing, but you won’t know what you truly like unless you try,” the music teacher encouraged. She often spoke to Hong Tao like an adult, having grown used to their private conversations. Though she said she wouldn’t force him, it was clear she hoped he would take a step further down the musical path.

“Alright then. I’ll think about it at home and try to find a suitable song. But I can’t promise anything. If I mess up, I’m just a kid. At worst, I’ll be punished or expelled. Have you thought about how that might affect your job?” Hong Tao felt uncertain. Most of the songs in his mind were popular karaoke hits—songs sung with drinks and ladies. How many of those were wholesome and positive?

“Sigh, you’re almost grown up and already worrying about me. Don’t worry, the district hasn’t set strict rules on that yet. As long as it’s not too outrageous, you won’t face those problems. At worst, it’ll affect rankings. Don’t overthink it; just find a good song,” the music teacher said, almost exasperated. She hoped her student would grow up sooner.

Respect begets respect—that was Hong Tao’s principle. Since the music teacher dared to risk criticism by sending her best student to perform, he couldn’t let her down by submitting some melodramatic nonsense about love, despair, or “women are tigers.” He had to find songs that were relatively more uplifting.

Several songs? Yes, the teacher required at least two: one for the school competition, one for the district. If they made the finals, a third song would be needed. As for whether they’d place in the top three and go on to the city-level competition, the teacher hadn’t thought that far. Hong Tao, however, had no intention of advancing to the city stage. He was only competing in the district to save the teacher face. Once done, he’d consider his debt repaid and avoid further embarrassment.

“Li Zongsheng? He hasn’t written any songs suitable for students. His are all about middle-aged life reflections—too heavy!”
“Jacky Cheung? None that I can sing. I can’t very well sing ‘Goodbye Kiss’!”
“George Lam? All about love troubles, and in Cantonese—no good.”
“Yang Kun? Singing ‘Whatever’ is just asking for death! You don’t care, so why compete? Mocking the district leaders?”
“Luo Dayou? ‘Love Song 1990’? That’s blatant promotion of early romance—not suitable! Wait… there’s ‘Childhood.’ That might work!”

(To be continued...)

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