Chapter 63: Old Wang's Sorrowful Misery

“A sorrowful old turtle? Hahaha! Mr. Huang, you’re hilarious! You’ve taken the joke further than any of us—‘Old Wang’ has become ‘old turtle’! That’s genius! Hahaha!” Lu Rou was laughing so hard her chest nearly bounced out of her top.

Swept up by Lu Rou’s infectious laughter, the others looked a bit bewildered. Was Mr. Huang telling a joke?

Hao Qiang pointed at his wine glass, excited. “Mr. Huang, that joke wasn’t funny at all! You should drink as a penalty!”

Sun Yanzhen, who knew firsthand how peculiar Huang Guolun’s sense of humor was, asked awkwardly, “You’re not… actually telling a cold joke, are you?”

Huang Guolun replied, embarrassed, “I wasn’t joking with you. I really wanted to sing a song for Old Wang.”

Hearing this, Ju Xiaohui and the others’ eyes lit up—they hadn’t heard any singing in a while and immediately cheered for him to perform.

Sun Yanzhen exclaimed happily, “You can make up a song on the spot and sing it? How are you so talented?!”

Huang Guolun, tipsy and unfiltered, replied with a bit of swagger, “I have no idea why I’m so amazing tonight.”

That line made Lu Rou and several other girls burst out laughing.

Hao Qiang smiled, but it was a wry smile. It was just a game, yet this middle-aged man was going to sing again? He already sensed his spotlight was about to be stolen by this unassuming uncle.

Huang Guolun felt like he was standing on clouds, swaying as he got to his feet. “Let me sing this song to liven things up. Once I’m done, I’ll take my leave. I really can’t keep up anymore. You all keep having fun.”

Lu Rou hastened to say, “You’re leaving already? Don’t kill the mood, Mr. Huang!”

Ju Xiaohui and the others chimed in, trying to persuade him to stay a bit longer.

But Huang Guolun truly didn’t feel well. He couldn’t keep up with the festivities, so he clasped his hands in apology and quickly made his way to the stage.

After Huang Guolun’s last performance, no one had dared to sing for a while. Now, as he took the stage again, everyone’s enthusiasm was reignited.

Though they didn’t want him to leave right after a song, many secretly hoped he’d hurry up and go so he wouldn’t keep stealing their thunder.

Hao Qiang led the jeering: “Mr. Huang, don’t make Old Wang look good! If you do, you’ll have to drink as a penalty before you can leave!”

Huang Guolun simply smiled, unruffled, and didn’t respond to the provocation.

He took his rosewood guitar, settled onto the high stool, and after a moment’s thought said, “You’ve been making fun of Old Wang long enough. I won’t do that anymore.”

Hearing this, Wang Xinnan felt particularly comforted and whistled loudly in support.

That whistle set off a cheer among the young crowd, making the atmosphere electric.

Not wanting to dampen their spirits, Huang Guolun added, “I just remembered a joke my son told me—it’s pretty funny. One night, a big shot from the underworld was walking his dog by the roadside when suddenly a hitman jumped out of the bushes and shot his dog dead. The big shot raged, ‘Why did you kill my dog?’ The hitman sneered, ‘Someone paid me five million to take your dog’s life!’ The big shot was stunned for a moment, then gratefully handed over two bank cards: ‘Thank you, brother! One is for you, the other please transfer to your language teacher!’ Then the hitman asked, ‘Why didn’t you bring your wife along?’ The big shot, in tears, replied, ‘To be honest, brother, after all these years, I still haven’t found a girlfriend.’ The hitman, hearing this, promptly fired two more shots: ‘A single dog is still a dog! Prepare to die!’”

“Hahahaha!”

With this self-deprecating joke about being a “single dog,” Huang Guolun had the audience, including Sun Yanzhen, laughing heartily.

Those who’d thought Huang Guolun lacked a sense of humor were surprised to find that when this usually reserved middle-aged man told a story, he was as dryly witty as a seasoned comic actor.

“This song is dedicated to the sorrowful Old Wang—and to every single girl,” he announced.

Having set the mood, he strummed the guitar and, in a slightly raspy but down-to-earth tone, began to sing:

“One day, a stone fell from the sky
And by accident became a beautiful girl
She had a lovely face and enchanting lashes
All her heart was set on finding her dream lover
...
One day, he’ll come driving a red sports car
Marry me, my dearest girl
Travel the world together, grow old side by side

Girl, your dreams are truly beautiful...”

When he reached the last line, Huang Guolun was practically reciting the lyrics rather than singing, his delivery as dryly humorous as his earlier joke—almost ironic, as if to say: Girls, don’t keep daydreaming. The world isn’t that perfect.

Compared to his earlier rendition of “Not That Simple,” this song, “The Sorrowful Old Wang,” was clearly a lesser work. But knowing it was something Huang Guolun made up and sang on the spot, Wang Xinnan and the other musicians in the folk band were deeply impressed—it takes real talent to improvise a song like that.

Of course, Huang Guolun could sing it—this was a fully formed song in his mind, and what’s more, it was the live version.

(Author’s note: For those reading while listening, be sure to find the live version of “The Sorrowful Old Wang” by Song Dongye—much more fun than the studio track.)

“Hey, girl, I’ve got a brother, his name is Old Wang
He’s tall and good-looking, not bad at all
He’s upright, gentle, and kind, twenty-seven or eight, lonely and lost...”

After all the ribbing Old Wang had endured, when Huang Guolun sang about his “upright, gentle, and kind” nature, even Wang himself couldn’t help but laugh mid-song.

The young people below were also tickled by Old Wang’s supposed “uprightness.”

Then Huang Guolun sang something that made their ears prick up:

“Hey, girl, he doesn’t have much money or a big house
He’s got skills, but nowhere to display them
If you’ve heard rumors about a certain part of him being long
I guarantee you’d be overjoyed...”

“Ooooooh!” Lu Rou whooped, leading the crowd in raucous laughter.

Sun Yanzhen was a little surprised by Huang Guolun’s bluntness—so serious in daily life, yet secretly so cheeky!

Wang Xinnan whistled again in praise.

Off-color jokes and humor are common in barroom folk songs, but Huang Guolun’s fresh, unaffected delivery was invigorating.

Most impressive of all, he was improvising the whole thing—and the more he sang, the better it got. This Mr. Huang truly was a folk music prodigy!

Encouraged by the cheers, Huang Guolun sang with even more gusto:

“Hey, girl, don’t lose your way
If he’s rich, drives, and owns a home, he’s either married or a scoundrel
Half the decent men are singing folk songs
And among the other half, you’ll find Old Wang...”

“Hey, girl, how many Old Wangs are around you
Open your eyes—looks can be deceiving
Don’t keep going to the stadium, don’t keep dreaming of Lijiang
If life could always be like the first time we met, you’d already be covered in wounds
If life could always be like the first time we met, you’d already be covered in wounds
If life could always be like the first time we met, you’d already be covered in wounds...”

Whether those last lines reached the hearts of the young, fashionable girls in the crowd, no one could say—but Huang Guolun’s tone was unmistakably that of someone who knew life, an old hand.

With simple chords as accompaniment, Huang Guolun’s performance was witty and entertaining—far surpassing the jokes told earlier by Hao Qiang and the others.

When a talented uncle gets humorous, it’s truly something special.

The girls were all in high spirits after the song.

Wang Xinnan and the other folk musicians wanted to applaud—Mr. Huang’s impromptu song was nothing short of brilliant!

Sun Yanzhen looked at Huang Guolun with new eyes. After working together for three years, she’d never thought he could be so interesting.

Compared to the quick-witted Xiao Taozi, Huang Guolun had always seemed like a block of wood. But tonight, Sun Yanzhen realized that the uncle’s charm was every bit the equal of his clever son.

Like father, like son.

The ancients did not deceive us.

“Mr. Huang, sing another! Encore!” Lu Rou started cheering, urging Huang Guolun to keep singing.

But Huang Guolun really didn’t feel well—he sensed he was about to throw up. He decided not to risk it with the younger crowd.

He said his goodbyes, promised to join them again if there was another chance, put on his old cadre’s jacket, and prepared to leave Maktub Bar.

Before he left, Wang Xinnan came over to chat, hoping Huang Guolun would return sometime so they could talk music.

Huang Guolun agreed politely, though whether he would return in the future was uncertain.

Sun Yanzhen personally saw Huang Guolun out of the bar.

Outside, the cold wind whistled.

Sun Yanzhen was lightly dressed and shivering from the chill.

Huang Guolun glanced down the street, grumbling, “That ride-share driver said he’d be here soon. Where is he? Hope he didn’t get lost… You should go back inside—it’s cold out here.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait with you. After all that drinking, it’s nice to get some air.”

At this moment, Sun Yanzhen radiated a warmth and tenderness that reached Huang Guolun. She suddenly smiled sweetly and asked, “So, any of my girlfriends catch your eye tonight? I can play matchmaker for you.”

“I’d better not...” he replied.

Undeterred, Sun Yanzhen pressed, “How about Lu Rou? Don’t be fooled by how wild she was tonight—she’s not usually like that. She’s an accountant at Big Four, and the pressure is huge. So when she lets loose, she can seem a bit crazy, but she’s quite proper most days. I think she’s really interested in you. Want to… give it a try?”

Huang Guolun nearly blacked out. “Don’t joke with me—I really couldn’t handle a girl like that.”

Sun Yanzhen asked curiously, “So what kind of girl could you handle?”

In the distance, Huang Guolun saw his ride approaching, so he said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just take my time. Go back now—the car’s here.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday today. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sun Yanzhen called out as he was about to leave.

“I… already wished you a happy birthday, didn’t I? Eighteenth birthday—happy birthday.”

“That’s all? Where’s my present?” Sun Yanzhen stretched her slender hand out to him.

“Uh… I left in a hurry, didn’t have time to get one.”

“It’s not that you were in a hurry; you never planned to get one, did you?” she teased, pouting her lips painted with peach-colored gloss.

“Heh.” Huang Guolun could only offer an awkward smile.

Sun Yanzhen’s bright eyes sparkled as she said, “You owe me a birthday gift.”

Huang Guolun replied generously, “All right—tell me, what do you want?”