Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 104, Half a Lifetime

The next morning, Zheng Hui and Lin Dashan walked out of the Peninsula Hotel.

He got into the Mercedes-Benz arranged by the hotel and headed straight for the Hong Kong General Post Office.

Zheng Hui skillfully stuffed the sheet music, chord progressions, and lyrics manuscripts of the eleven songs he had stayed up all night to a brown paper envelope. He filled in his name and hotel address in the recipient and sender fields.

"Registered mail, urgent." Zheng Hui pushed the envelope into the counter window.

He's already quite adept at this poor man's version of copyright registration.

Two days later, when the hotel receptionist handed him the letter with the clear postmark intact, Zheng Hui immediately took Lin Dashan to CASH—the Hong Kong Composers and Lyricists Association.

Fill out the form, submit the draft, enter the data into the system, and pay the registration fee.

Because of his previous two albums, CASH staff treated this now-popular cash cow across Asia with utmost respect, giving him the green light all the way and completing all the copyright registration procedures in less than two hours.

Holding the receipt stamped with the official seal, Zheng Hui walked out of CASH's door, took out his phone, and dialed Zheng Donghan's direct line.

"Mr. Zheng, are you busy?" Zheng Hui's tone was relaxed and confident.

Zheng Donghan's voice came from the other end of the phone: "Hui-zai, no matter how busy I am, answering your call is my top priority."

What? Your seclusion is over?

Or are you finally getting bored staying in the hotel and want me to arrange for someone to take you to Lan Kwai Fong to find some inspiration?

"I don't need to look for inspiration anymore; it's already lined up in my head."

""

As Zheng Hui walked towards his car at the hotel, he said into the phone, "I need a recording studio. It doesn't have to be top-of-the-line, just a good acoustic guitar and a piano will do. I need to record some demos."

On the other end of the phone, Zheng Donghan couldn't hold back: "You finished writing it? So fast? All ten songs are done?"

"To be precise, it's eleven poems."

Zheng Hui opened the car door and got in: "Moreover, these eleven songs absolutely match the 20 million pie you painted for me in the office that day."

"Good! Good! Good!"

Zheng Donghan said "good" three times in a row, his voice brimming with excitement: "Come directly to the company! Although the main studio inside PolyGram burned down, there are plenty of sample production rooms. I'll have them clear out for you immediately, and you can choose any equipment you like!"

"Okay, I'll be right there."

Since this exorbitant contract stipulated that he would hand over the master tape rights (master tape rights) for Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and overseas to Universal Music during the golden period, Zheng Hui certainly couldn't skimp on this aspect for them.

The money comes from the consumers, so since Universal Music takes the lion's share of the profits, we absolutely have to go all out and spend lavishly on the production costs of this album! We'll bring in the best musicians and the most expensive equipment from all over Asia!

For the next two days, Zheng Hui locked himself in a production room in the Universal Music headquarters building.

He declined all help from assistants and producers, leaving only one sound engineer in the studio to push the faders.

Zheng Hui, holding a guitar, sat in front of the microphone and began to unleash his full power.

Recording a demo doesn't require perfect arrangement or flawless singing skills. It only requires recording the melody framework, chord progressions, and core emotional tone of the song to facilitate subsequent reworking by the arrangement team.

Two days later, when Zheng Hui pushed open the soundproof door of the production room, he was holding a cassette tape in his hand.

In his office, Zheng Donghan canceled all his meetings for the afternoon.

When Zheng Hui walked in, Zheng Donghan immediately stood up, took the cassette tape from his hand, and turned to walk towards the monitor speakers.

"Click".

The play button was pressed, the tape began to spin, and after a slight background noise, piano chords echoed throughout the office.

The first song is titled "Drifting North".

"I drift north, don't ask about my hometown, the towering ancient city walls cannot hide my sorrow—"

Zheng Donghan is a connoisseur; he could hear the sense of aimless yet helpless wandering in the song. This was just the beginning, yet it was already so captivating.

Next up is "The Nameless Man".

"I am a nameless person on this road—"

The third song, "The Nameless," suddenly accelerates in tempo, a roar born from suppressed rage.

The fourth poem is titled "Sorrow".

"One cup to the rising sun, one cup to the moonlight—one cup to tomorrow, one cup to the past—"

When he sang about the eight cups of wine, Zheng Donghan seemed to see countless middle-aged men forcing smiles at drinking parties and vomiting alone late at night.

The fifth and sixth poems—

Zheng Donghan sat there quietly, letting Zheng Hui's singing assault his eardrums and heart wave after wave.

Until the very last poem, "The Prose Poem Written by My Father".

"In 1984, before the construction site payments were settled, my son was lying next to me, sleeping so peacefully—"

When the last utterance, tinged with sobs and sighs, completely faded into the air, and the cassette tape automatically popped back up, the office fell silent.

Zheng Hui sat on the sofa, quietly drinking tea, waiting for the judgment of this godfather of the music industry.

A full five minutes passed.

Zheng Donghan slowly broke free from the suffocating feeling of being choked by the music. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes slightly red.

He stared at Zheng Hui sitting opposite him, his gaze extremely complex.

He looked at him as if he were a monster from outer space—how could a nineteen-year-old boy write lyrics and music that seemed to rip out the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys of a forty- or fifty-year-old man and roast them over a fire?

But at the same time, his eyes looked as if he were looking at a treasure trove!

"Hui-zai—do you even know what kind of mess you've made?"

"An album that meets your requirements, specifically designed to empty adults' wallets." Zheng Hui smiled slightly and put down his teacup.

"This isn't just taking out wallets! You're killing them!"

"A masterpiece—an absolute masterpiece!"

Whether it's the theme, the melody, or the depth of the lyrics, these eleven songs, even if taken out individually, are enough to make those so-called gold medal producers live off their achievements for a lifetime!

And you actually crammed them all into one album!

Zheng Donghan walked to his desk, grabbed the landline phone, and pressed several buttons hard with his fingers.

"Hey, all the arrangers currently in Hong Kong, tell them to drop everything and come to my office immediately! Yes! No matter who they're working on songs for, stop immediately!"

After yelling into the phone, Zheng Donghan abruptly hung up and turned to look at Zheng Hui.

"This album can't follow the conventional process! It's too slow to have one arranger working on each song slowly. I want them to work on multiple projects simultaneously! I want to use Universal's best arrangement team to give these eleven songs the most magnificent attire!"

"Not only do I want the best arrangement, but I also want the best recording studio," Zheng Hui said slowly, leaning back on the sofa.

"Those demos were just the skeleton. Mr. Zheng, since this album is signed with Universal and most of the revenue from the recording rights goes to the company, you can't be stingy with the production costs."

Zheng Hui raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying an undisguised air of extortion.

"Many songs, such as 'Once Upon a Time' and 'Nameless,' sound too fake when the drum beats and guitar sounds are made with ordinary synthesizers or MIDI. They can't convey the sense of vicissitude at all. I want to use real instruments and record everything with real instruments."

"You little rascal, you're more cunning than anyone else. So you were waiting for me here, trying to burn through my money?" Zheng Donghan was not angry at all. Instead, he laughed heartily, his laughter filled with arrogance.

"Buy it! Burn it all! As long as this amazing album is presented perfectly, this production cost is nothing!"

Zheng Donghan walked up to Zheng Hui and said, "You just said you wanted the best recording studio? PolyGram used to have the best studio in all of Asia, but unfortunately it was destroyed in a fire a few years ago. Since then, we've outsourced most of our high-end recording work."

"For demos or ordinary pop songs, the company's in-house recording studio will suffice. But for this album—" Zheng Donghan shook his head, "the in-house studio is absolutely not up to par. I'll have someone book the Ya Wang Recording Studio for you!"

"Ya Wang?" Zheng Hui had heard of this name in his previous life. It was a top-notch recording studio in Hong Kong, where countless legendary hits by Leslie Cheung, Jacky Cheung, and Anita Mui were born.

"Yes, Ya'an. It has the best analog mixing consoles in all of Asia, and the most advanced microphones. More importantly, the acoustic environment there is truly masterful."

Only recordings made there will have texture and be able to perfectly reproduce the emotions in your singing.

Zheng Hui nodded in satisfaction: "Then Ya Wang will do. However, besides having a good booth, I also need top-notch musicians."

"Don't worry, for those rock and folk songs, I'll hire all the best guitarists and drummers in Hong Kong at high salaries to record your music live."

Zheng Donghan paused, looking intently at Zheng Hui: "However, for pieces like 'Father,' 'Father's Prose Poem,' and 'The Wind Rises,' if only the keyboard and guitar are used, the emotional tension won't be brought out; it will seem too thin."

"I plan to extract the string section separately once the initial score for the arrangement is finished. I'm going to hire a string orchestra!"

"Rent a large recording studio and have the conductor and the entire string orchestra record these songs live with the string accompaniment."

I want to make this album a true blockbuster of the year, an album that audiophiles can put on their multi-million dollar Hi-Fi systems and listen repeatedly to every breath, every detail of the bow rubbing against the strings!

Zheng Donghan looked at Zheng Hui and smiled: "If we follow this production standard, without synthesizers, with all instruments recorded live, plus the studio fees for Ya Wang, the appearance fees for top musicians, and the labor costs of a symphony orchestra of several dozen people."

The budget for just recording the audio of these eleven songs easily exceeded one million Hong Kong dollars.

"This doesn't even include the cost of mastering the tapes later, not to mention the huge expenses if we shoot music videos for all eleven songs."

Zheng Donghan shrugged: "Hui, in today's Hong Kong music scene, besides me, no one else has the guts to spend millions on the production cost of an album whose market response is unknown."

"Because you know very well that this investment can bring you ten times the box office revenue at the Hong Kong Coliseum and sales across Asia."

"Won't we make it back a hundredfold?" Zheng Hui met Zheng Donghan's gaze without backing down and asked with a smile.

Zheng Donghan nodded in satisfaction: "I'm not afraid of you spending money, I'm just afraid that what you bring out isn't worth the price."

But this cassette tape is worth it! It's worth Universal Music spending millions of dollars on it. This is a powerful declaration we're making to the entire Chinese music scene after our reorganization!

After finishing their business, Zheng Donghan had a fresh pot of tea prepared.

The atmosphere in the office relaxed again.

Zheng Hui picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his gaze fell on the cassette tape on the coffee table.

"Mr. Zheng, the budget and production details are finalized. Now, let's talk about the album's name."

"The last album, I originally wanted to call it 'Seven Days of Love Songs' out of spite, but you overruled everyone's objections and named it 'Floating Life'."

Life is but a dream, how much joy can we truly experience? This title is incredibly evocative, not only elevating the entire album's style to a new level but also giving it a unified soul.

"What about this one?" Zheng Hui asked humbly. "This album tells the story of an ordinary person's struggles over half a lifetime, from drifting to compromise, from nostalgia to remembering his father."

I'd like to hear what brilliant ideas you have this time.

Zheng Donghan did not answer directly, but looked at Zheng Hui with great interest.

"A name is the eye of a work," Zheng Donghan said with a smile, then countered, "Since you've written these eleven songs, you must already have a general outline in your mind. Tell me your thoughts first, what do you want to call them?"

Zheng Hui pondered for a moment, mentally reviewing the emotional threads of the eleven songs.

"I think the name 'Song of the Wanderer' is quite good," Zheng Hui said earnestly.

"The Wanderer's Song?" Zheng Donghan raised an eyebrow slightly, signaling him to continue.

"Yes. Meng Jiao's poem: 'The thread in the loving mother's hand, the clothes on the traveler's back. Before his departure, she sews them carefully, fearing his return will be delayed.'"

Zheng Hui explained: "Look at the structure of this album. Whether it's the nameless person struggling in a foreign land in 'Drifting to the North' or the traveler who dreams of wandering the world with a sword in 'Once You', in the end, these people, whether they are dressed in suits or covered in dirt, all have a common identity - wanderers."

"They are all people who left their hometowns to make their way in the world. What supports them while they are away is their home."

Therefore, the album's closing tracks, "Dad and Mom," "Father," and "Father's Prose Poem," perfectly correspond to the guilt and gratitude felt towards parents as the artist meticulously sews clothes before leaving home.

Zheng Hui looked at Zheng Donghan: "A wanderer far from home, singing for half his life. Using 'The Wanderer's Song' as the album title not only hits the nail on the head regarding the pain of being away from home, but also captures the theme of family affection, and has the foundation of classical literature. What do you think?"

After listening, Zheng Donghan nodded and gave an objective evaluation: "The song 'Song of the Wanderer' is indeed good. It has vivid imagery and emotional resonance, which perfectly matches the two major themes of your album: leaving home and parents."

If we use this name, it's definitely literary enough.

But he put down his teacup: "But, Hui-zai, it's too specific, and too soft."

"Too specific?" Zheng Hui was slightly taken aback.

"Yes, the core of 'Song of the Wanderer' is maternal love and longing for home."

But in this album, there's the absurdity of eight glasses of strong liquor in "Sorrow," the cruelty of lost youth in "Old Boy," and the defiant roar of "Nameless Heroes"—a spirit that refuses to be ordinary!

Zheng Donghan looked at Zheng Hui: "Using 'The Wanderer's Song' to summarize these things doesn't quite capture their essence."

He walked back to the coffee table and picked up the pen.

"You just mentioned 'Floating Life'."

As Zheng Donghan spread out a sheet of white paper, he slowly said, "The name 'Floating Life' was chosen from Li Bai's 'Preface to the Banquet at the Peach Blossom Garden with My Younger Cousins ​​on a Spring Night'."

"Heaven and earth are but an inn for all things; time is but a fleeting guest for a hundred generations. And life is but a dream, how much joy can it hold?"

After he finished reading this sentence, he looked at Zheng Hui and said, "The world is a grand hotel, and all of us are just passersby in the flow of time."

This line of poetry perfectly captures the image of those wanderers in your album.

No matter how you struggle or how you roar in a foreign land, in this vast world, you are nothing more than a fleeting passerby.

Zheng Hui listened intently. Li Bai's poem truly elevated that sense of aimless wandering to a cosmic philosophical level.

"But—since the previous one was called 'Floating Life,' if this one still revolves around the theme of dreams or wandering, it would seem repetitive."

"Therefore, I think there is a better word than 'The Wanderer's Song'."

Zheng Donghan lowered his head, wrote two words on the white paper, then turned the paper over and pushed it in front of Zheng Hui.

Zheng Hui's gaze fell on those two words.

Half a Lifetime.

"The Tang Dynasty poet-monk Qi Ji wrote a poem called 'Sunset.'" Zheng Donghan looked at the two characters and softly read: "The evening sun shines behind the high terrace, the fading bells and horns urge it on. How many more times can it set? Half a lifetime has already passed."

"How many times has it been lost, half a lifetime has passed—" Zheng Hui pondered this line of poetry, feeling a profound sense of vicissitude and weight that struck him to the core.

"How many springs and autumns can a person endure in their lifetime, how many times can leaves fall and wither? When you come to your senses, you suddenly realize that half a lifetime has already passed by in a daze."

Jung Dong-han pointed to the cassette tape on the table: "Isn't this what you sang on this album?"

That old boy whose edges had been smoothed out, that man who drank eight cups of wine to toast the nameless people of the past, that father who watched his children grow up while he himself grew old.

Which of them wasn't lamenting: "Half a lifetime has already passed?"

"Moreover, the previous one was called 'Floating Life.' This one is called 'Half a Lifetime.'"

"Life is like a dream, half a lifetime wasted." These two names together form a complete sequence!

The mere sight of these two names side-by-side on a record store shelf is enough to make any adult with a modicum of experience reach for their wallet without hesitation!

Zheng Hui looked at the words "half a lifetime" on the paper and listened to Zheng Donghan's analysis of literature and business.

He had to admit that this godfather, who had dominated the Hong Kong music scene for decades, truly possessed a sharp eye that was hard for ordinary people to match when it came to refining the album concept and controlling the narrative.

"it is good."

"How many times has it been sold off? Half a lifetime has already passed."

"Mr. Zheng, let's go with 'Half a Lifetime'! Now that the name and budget are settled, let's get the Universal Music arrangement team and the Ya Wang Recording Studio up and running!"

Zheng Hui stood up and straightened his coat collar.

"I can't wait to see what kind of expressions the veterans of the Chinese music scene will have when these eleven songs hit the market."

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