Rock and Roll: Glorious Years

Bian Lang hadn't thought of this before, since he was just helping Zhu Yan with the shop and using the temporary office space. Now that they've decided to cooperate, he has to make use of all these resources.

He had also been in an underground band in his past life, and he knew all too well how difficult it was for band records to sell before they became commercially successful. Their first album was one of those black albums that didn't even have a publishing license. The guys paid for 1000 copies themselves and sent them to record stores, bars, and bookstores for consignment. In the end, by the time they signed with a record company, they still had more than 800 copies left.

After the commercial phase, until the Big Band hit, the situation didn't improve much. Apart from selling some during performances, the rest of the time the goods just sat in the warehouse collecting dust.

Given the current state of the rock scene on Aquamarine Star, Bian Lang felt that these bands would likely accept his offer.

On his way home, he sent Lao Zhao a WeChat message: "Brother Zhao, I need your help. I went to a friend's record store, and there are so few albums by domestic rock bands. I'd like to ask you to support them and get me some of your band's albums to help boost the store's image!"

Old Zhao, who was drinking and chatting with Li Hao, was delighted when he saw the message. He immediately replied via voice message: "Thanks, brother. You still think of me when there's such a good thing. Give me an address, and I'll send you a few hundred tomorrow. I'll also get you some autographed ones. Don't worry about the money; we'll talk about it after they're sold out."

Li Hao overheard this and chimed in, "What kind of sucker from out of town would want to help you sell DVDs? Last time you sent over 100, you only sold less than 10. Did you even make enough to cover the shipping cost?"

Old Zhao wasn't discouraged by Li Hao's realistic teasing and chuckled as he replied, "It's Bian Lang, isn't it? He left his WeChat when he went to record the show. He said he bought a CD from a friend's store... If it were anyone else, I wouldn't bother, but since it's him, I have to support him regardless of whether they sell or not!"

"After hearing about his performance on the show, he's definitely got it all figured out! His songs and his personality are both great. How come we didn't notice him back when he was still working in Beijing?"

Old Zhao was also puzzled: "I don't understand it either. This kid seems to have popped out of a rock!"

"Hmm, let's get some of those dusty old stuff from our band's storage for him, just to make it a bit bigger!"

……

The next morning, Bian Lang got up and strolled to the snack street, intending to check out the original owner's mother's new shop.

When we arrived, it was just past 10 o'clock. Bianlang bought a bowl of rice noodle soup at the street corner and carried it inside. He saw the painted hoarding with the three big characters "South Flying Goose" printed on it. Bianlang thought it would be a while before it was finished.

Turning around, he saw that it was Little Fatty at Seven Cups Snow. He carried the rice noodle soup inside, intending to finish his meal there before going to the record store. But as soon as he stepped inside, he heard his sister's voice: "Xiao Lang, what brings you here today? Isn't the studio busy?" Bian Lan's seat was blocked by the bar counter, so Bian Lang couldn't see him from the outside.

"I heard from Ai Hao that Mom bought the property across the street, so I came over to see if there was anything I could help with..."

Before he could finish speaking, another female voice floated out: "Then I must thank you, Young Master Bian!" Bian Lang's mother, Luo Suping, was located in a corner, and could not be seen at all unless you walked to the middle of the store.

Fortunately, Bian Lang was somewhat prepared. Although a little awkward, he still called out, "Mom!"

"I heard from your sister that you're doing quite well lately. Come, sit down and let's chat." Bian Lang shook his head at the sarcastic tone, but could only endure it.

Bian Lan noticed the situation was a bit tense, so she spoke up to defuse the tension: "Xiao Lang, I heard from your brother-in-law that things went quite smoothly for you this time. I even downloaded the song. That's great."

"What's so good about it? Tell me."

Luo Suping didn't like her son before, mainly because Bian Lang hadn't achieved anything and was over 30 years old without a partner, which worried her.

However, as a strong woman who has been fighting in the catering industry for decades, she is used to speaking and acting assertively. Now that she sees Bian Lang's business is improving, although she approves of it in her heart, she still can't change her habit of speaking out in a short time.

These were clearly words of concern, but when she said them, they carried a hint of reproach.

If it were the original owner, she would probably have just said, "You wouldn't understand even if I told you," and shut him down. But Bian Lang obediently replied, "The studio is still under renovation. It should be finished by the middle of this month. The new song should be in the top 10 of the charts by the end of the month."

Hearing this seemingly profound answer, Luo Suping was certain that her son had truly changed: "Is the renovation team you hired any good? If not, I can get one from you." Although her tone was still somewhat forceful, Bian Lang could tell that his mother was still putting on airs.

"No need for that, it won't matter if it's a couple of days earlier or later for me. But Mom, you need to finish this before school starts, don't let it be delayed."

"It's alright, it won't be delayed. We'll open at the end of this month. How about we invite your band to perform then?" Although it was a question, the tone left no room for doubt, meaning that the matter was settled.

Upon hearing this, Bian Lan quickly tried to smooth things over: "Mom, Xiao Lang and his band are professional rock bands. It's not appropriate for them to come here for your opening ceremony performance."

Before Luo Suping could speak, Bian Lang interjected, "Okay, just let me know the time in advance, and we'll come then." Bian Lang's attitude on this matter was absolutely correct; if it was a commercial performance for his own store's opening, then it had to be arranged.

When Bian Lang said this, even Luo Suping herself was taken aback. She had just said it casually, and if Bian Lang really didn't want to, she wouldn't force him.

After all, she had some common sense. She usually hired people for her business opening just for fun, and her son's band would definitely feel beneath them if they did this. But Bian Lang's immediate and unhesitating agreement completely surprised her.

Surprised as she was, Luo Suping wasn't completely speechless: "You should still collect the performance fee as it's due. By the way, Xiao Lang, your sister just gave me some feedback, saying that Nanfei Yankai should change things up here, as the brand image doesn't suit the consumption habits of university students. What do you think?"

Bian Lang doesn't understand business, but having seen so much in his past life, he can still spout some nonsense: "The taste and quality of our Crossing-the-Bridge Rice Noodles are naturally unparalleled, but Mom, think about it, there are at least eight or ten similar shops that have gone out of business on this street, and many of the old brands in Kunming have failed here..."

Combining the original owner's memories, Bian Lang rattled off a whole bunch of things, and Luo Suping actually listened to some of them.

"That makes sense. I'll go back and think about it... Son, not bad, keep it up..." After saying that, Luo Suping got up and patted Bian Lang on the shoulder.

Bian Lang searched through all of the original owner's memories and realized he hadn't heard that phrase since the day he started playing music. In his previous life, he hadn't heard it for at least 20 years.

This struck the softest part of his heart.

Feeling he was about to lose his composure, Bian Lang lowered his head in an attempt to gloss over the situation, but inadvertently turned his head and saw Luo Suping's hands, which were already covered in wrinkles.

In the last days of his life in the hospital, it was a pair of hands that fed him and wiped away his sweat.

"A pair of hands beyond compare..." Bian Lang thought of this song, but didn't want to hum it out at this moment.

"Thank you, Mom. I've worried you a lot before..." Bian Lang reached out and gently pressed his hand on Luo Suping's hand.