A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

Like any other international metropolis in the world, Beijing has a harsh reality: there are always more outsiders than locals.

The city has a resident population of 17 million, but less than half of that is registered. In other words, if you walk down the street, one in every two people is a migrant worker from Beijing.

The Lantern Festival on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month is supposed to be a day for family reunions. But in this city, there are countless people who have no family to reunite with. Those who are unemployed and penniless migrant workers in Beijing, white-collar workers who work overtime until late at night, tenants whose rent has just been raised by their landlords, and heartbroken people who don't want to be alone after a breakup... are all looking for a place that can bring them comfort.

And bars are precisely the kind of places where people can temporarily forget their troubles.

……

Dinner was prepared by Zhou Shufen: four dishes and a soup—stir-fried green beans, sweet and sour pork, garlic broccoli, braised yellow croaker, and a pot of tomato and egg drop soup.

"Sister Zhou, today is the Lantern Festival, aren't you going home?" Fu Yan picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork.

"My son hasn't started school yet, so he's spending the holiday at home with his dad. I'm fine spending it alone in Yanjing, so I'll cook you a nice meal." Zhou Shufen waved her hand and brought out a plate of glutinous rice balls. "Oh, by the way, these are black sesame filling. You have to eat glutinous rice balls on the Lantern Festival, right?"

Lin Xiaochen sat opposite Fu Yan, eating quickly but quietly, just like her personality—efficient, decisive, and concise.

"Are you going to a bar tonight?" Fu Yan asked her.

"Yes. I need to be there on opening day."

"Then let's do it together."

"I'm going too!" Zhao Gang poked his head out from the east wing. He hadn't driven anyone today; he'd been wiping the Land Rover Defender in the yard, cleaning it cleaner than his own face.

"I'll join in the fun too," He Wei chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "Anyway, I have nowhere else to go."

Fu Yan glanced at them and said, "Have you two never been to a bar before or what?"

"I've seen it, but I've never seen my own boss's bar," Zhao Gang said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, let's go together. Just don't embarrass me."

"Don't worry, Brother Fu! I definitely won't drink!"

"Who said you can't drink? I mean, don't drink too much and cause trouble."

Zhao Gang patted his chest and boasted, "I was in the army! I can hold my liquor like a pro!"

He Wei added in a low voice, "The armed police don't test their drinking capacity."

Zhao Gang: "..."

Zhou Shufen burst out laughing in the kitchen.

-

At 7 p.m., "Homecoming" officially opened its doors to guests.

The neon lights at the entrance lit up, casting a warm yellow glow on the blue brick wall, making the words "Homecoming" seem to grow out of the cracks in the bricks. A string of red lanterns hung on the old locust tree next to it—Qiu Kai had them hung there, saying it was for the Lantern Festival.

When Fu Yan pushed open the door, the Black Cat Band was already on stage.

Chen Hui strummed the guitar to tune it, Lao Zhang adjusted the tension of the drumhead, and Xiao Lin sat behind the keyboard, quietly pressing chords to test the sound.

The first song is "Those Flowers"—an old song by Pu Shu. The melody is simple, but it's perfect for opening a quiet bar.

"They must be old now, where are they now...?"

Chen Hui's voice was a little hoarse, not in a deliberately forced way, but a natural quality that came from smoking a lot. Coupled with the arpeggios on the guitar, the air in the whole bar became softer.

Fu Yan stood at the door for a few seconds, listened, and then nodded.

Qiu Kai strode over from the bar: "You're here! Should we sit at the bar or in a booth?"

"The corner, that spot." Fu Yan pointed to the corner at the end of the bar, against the wall—facing the stage, but not too conspicuous, it was the "boss's seat" he had long ago chosen.

"Okay, I've told them to hold it for you." Qiu Kai lowered his voice. "The guests are starting to come in, more than I expected."

Fu Yan glanced around—indeed, it was only a little past seven, and seven or eight tables were already occupied. Most of the diners were young people, with small tables for two or three people, and a few couples as well. The drink menus were being flipped through swiftly, and waiters were moving between the tables taking orders.

"The Houhai area is never short of customers, especially during the Lantern Festival," Qiu Kai said. "The key is to retain them—if the drinks are good, the music is good, and the atmosphere is right, they will come back next time."

"Yes, you're right, that makes a lot of sense. Anyway, I don't care about the specifics, you can handle it as you see fit."

Qiu Kai smiled, then turned and went about his business.

-

Fu Yan sat in the corner with a glass of "Houhai Morning Mist" in his hand—yes, the one Zhou Lei created himself. After Zhou Lei forced it onto the drink menu during the day, he simply made a small light sign and placed it in the most conspicuous position on the bar.

The four characters "Fu Ge's Special Mix" looked both tacky and tacky under the warm light.

As Zhou Lei passed by carrying a shaker, he glanced at the signboard and wore a smug look on his face, as if to say, "I've made it big."

Lin Xiaochen sat next to Fu Yan, a glass of sparkling water in front of her, diligently recording in a small notebook who entered at what time, how long they stayed, what they ordered, and how much they spent. She wasn't slacking off; she was compiling customer data for the first day of business. Lin Xiaochen was the type to work even while drinking.

Zhao Gang and He Wei sat on the other side. Zhao Gang ordered a beer, holding it like he was holding a rifle, sitting upright and not looking to the side. He Wei, on the other hand, was very relaxed, holding a mojito—yes, he ordered a mojito—and tilting his head to watch the band on stage.

"This band is good," He Wei said.

"You know music too?" Zhao Gang glanced at him.

"I don't understand, but I can still tell whether it sounds good or bad."

"That's true."

The two drank quietly.

Fu Yan found the scene quite amusing—a roughneck and a recent graduate sitting in a bar listening to folk music, it just didn't feel right, like two extras who had wandered onto the wrong set.

-

The second performance began at 9:30.

Chen Hui switched to an electric guitar, changing the style from folk to jazz. Xiao Lin's keyboard laid a soft base, and Lao Zhang's drumbeats became gentle strumming. The atmosphere of the whole bar shifted from the cozy feeling of afternoon tea to the ambiguous atmosphere of late night.

The lights dimmed, and only a small candlestick remained on each table, the flickering flames reflecting on the wine glasses like a pool of shattered gold.

Fu Yan held his wine glass, looking at the scene before him—clinking glasses, soft laughter, flickering candlelight, and gentle music.

Bright lights and bustling activity.

He suddenly remembered New York.

Those years in New York were a hundred times more exciting, a hundred times more frenzied, and a hundred times more absurd than this.

Manhattan penthouses, Long Island yacht parties, Wall Street private dinners—back then he was like a perpetual motion machine, trading by day and partying by night, always surrounded by a group of people, changing like a revolving door.

That's the life of the rich; once they start, they can't stop. When you have 100 yuan, you feel it's not enough, and you want 1000 yuan. But when you have 1000 yuan, you feel like 1 yuan is enough. And when you finally have 1 yuan…

You'll find that money isn't money anymore; it's enough to spend, but not enough to fill a void.

Those nights, alcohol was the standard, and women were the side dish. Female programmers from Silicon Valley, female analysts from Wall Street, models, all sorts of international students... came and went, and Fu Yan never tried to keep them. He was very clear about it back then: I'm living this life again, not just to find someone to spend my life with, but to make up for all the enjoyment I didn't get to have in my previous life.

But when you finally realize it, all alcohol tastes the same when you drink too much, and all women look the same when you see too many.

What can relieve sorrow? Only alcohol and women.

But what happens after the worries are resolved?

Still empty.

On the day he completed his short-selling operation in 07 and made a net profit of $170 billion, he stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his Manhattan apartment, looking at the lights on the Hudson River, and suddenly felt utterly bored.

Like now, sitting in my own bar, looking at the bright lights and bustling scene before me, I suddenly feel a little dazed.

That empty feeling was like a pair of hands reaching out from across time and space, gently pressing on his shoulders.

-