A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

"Brother Fu."

Lin Xiaochen's voice brought him back to reality.

"Um?"

"What are you thinking about? You've been staring at your wine glass for five minutes straight."

"Thinking about the past."

"What happened before?"

Fu Yan smiled but did not answer.

He picked up his glass and took a sip—the bitterness of coffee, the creaminess of Baileys, the warmth of whiskey—it was still the same taste, "Houhai Morning Mist".

But this time, he thought this drink was better than any in New York.

Because this is in my own bar, drinking my own alcohol.

The person sitting next to me is one of my own.

The view outside the window is of Houhai at night, not the Manhattan skyline.

This is enough.

-

Just then, someone walked in through the door.

No, it's a girl.

She was wearing a beige down jacket, a scarf wrapped up to her chin, carrying a canvas bag in her hand, and a guitar case slung across her shoulder. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, her bangs were messed up by the wind, and the tip of her nose was a little red from the cold.

She stood timidly at the door, looking left and right, like a college student who had just arrived.

Qiu Kai walked over to the bar and said a few words to her. The girl nodded and took out a piece of paper from her canvas bag—it was probably a resume or something similar.

Qiu Kai glanced at it, then looked up at Fu Yan.

Fu Yan understood, put down his wine glass, and walked over.

"Boss, this young lady said she's here to apply for a resident singer position." Qiu Kai handed over the paper. "I saw the job posting at the entrance."

Fu Yan looked down and glanced at it—

Name: Qin Manni. Age: 22. Graduated from: Yenching Film Academy, Department of Performance.

He looked up and examined the girl in front of him—her nose was red from the cold, her bangs were messy, and she was standing in the bar with a guitar on her back, looking like a little white rabbit who had accidentally wandered into an adult physical examination site.

interesting.

"Can you sing?"

"Yes." Qin Manni's voice was soft, but clear, like the first snow of early winter falling on a lake.

"Would you like to sing one for me?"

Qin Manni glanced at the stage—the Black Cat Band was taking a break. Qiu Kai waved to Chen Hui, who understood and gave up the microphone.

Qin Manni walked onto the stage and took out a wooden guitar from its case—it was a very old guitar with a long scratch on the soundboard, as if it had been scraped by something.

She sat on a high stool, tuned the strings, and took a deep breath.

Then she started singing.

"When will the moon be clear and bright? I raise my cup to ask the heavens..."

It's "Wishing We Last Forever," but not in Teresa Teng's sweet and gentle style, nor in Faye Wong's ethereal style. Instead, it's sung with gentle strumming of the guitar, almost in a whispering manner—as if talking to oneself.

The noise in the bar gradually subsided.

Some people put down their glasses, some turned their heads away, and some stopped talking to their companions—everyone was drawn to that tiny voice.

It's not because it's particularly stunning, but because it's so clean.

It was so clean that you couldn't bear to make a sound.

-

After the song ended, the bar was quiet for two seconds.

Then, Zhao Gang led the applause.

He slapped the table so hard, like he was encouraging a commander in the army, slap slap slap, startling the people at the next table.

He Wei quickly pulled him back: "Keep it down! This is a bar, not a military parade!"

"It sounds good!" Zhao Gang said confidently.

Applause quickly erupted.

Qin Manni panicked a little, her face flushed red, and she didn't know where to put her hands holding the guitar. She looked like a primary school student being called on by the teacher to answer a question.

Standing below the stage, watching her helpless expression, Fu Yan suddenly felt—

The wine tastes even better tonight.

He turned to Qiu Kai and said, "Let her come to work tomorrow."

Qiu Kai was taken aback: "Is it really settled like that? A few more rounds?"

"No."

Qiu Kai opened his mouth, then closed it again. He hadn't known Fu Yan for long, but he had already figured out a pattern—this boss usually didn't care about anything, but once he said "no need," he really meant it.

Fu Yan picked up his wine glass and walked back to his corner.

There's still half a cup of "Houhai Morning Mist," and it's still warm.

Lanterns lit up Houhai Lake outside the window, reflecting clusters of light on the lake's surface like shattered moon fragments.

The night of the Lantern Festival has only just begun.

……

Just after 10:30, the curtain at the door was lifted, and a gust of cold wind swept in the warm light of the lanterns.

Xu Wenshu walked in, wrapped in a burgundy cashmere coat, with a gray woolen scarf around her neck—she didn't know if she bought it herself or if someone gave it to her, but it looked quite nice. After entering, she glanced around and quickly found Fu Yan in a corner, then strode through the crowd and walked straight over.

"Why did it take you so long? I thought you were lost." Fu Yan pulled out the chair in front of him.

"My colleague and I took a taxi to drop her off first." Xu Wenshu sat down and took off her scarf. "There's a gala at the station tonight, and several colleagues are working overtime, so we left together."

"The Lantern Festival gala? Did you go up and join in the fun?"

"Why bother with all this? We've been busy enough lately because of all this mess with the Americans!" She said this without any resentment, but rather with a sense of helpless acceptance.

Lin Xiaochen stood up and asked, "Sister Xu, what would you like to drink?"

"Just a cup of hot water will do; I don't drink alcohol."

"This is a bar."

"How about a cup of hot water with a hint of alcohol then?"

Lin Xiaochen glanced at Fu Yan, who nodded helplessly. She then turned to the bar to give instructions.

"Your assistant is quite capable," Xu Wenshu said.

"I have a pretty good eye for people."

"Come on, stop bragging. I don't see how good your taste is, hehe."

"Isn't it good? Then aren't you also negating yourself?"

"Hmm? How could I be considered that? I was the one who chose you, not the other way around. That just proves I had good judgment!"

Well, she could convince him either way, so Fu Yan decided not to engage in that conversation.

-

As they were talking, the stage lights dimmed slightly.

Chen Hui put down his electric guitar, stood up, and said into the microphone, "The next song will be sung by a new friend."

Qin Manni walked onto the stage from the side.

She had already taken off her down jacket, revealing a thin white sweater underneath, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms, exposing her slender, fair wrists. The guitar was still the same old one, the scratches on the soundboard particularly noticeable under the light.

She sat on a high stool, head down, tuning the strings; her fingers were long and slender, and her movements were very practiced.

Then she looked up and whispered into the microphone, "This song... is dedicated to everyone who hasn't gone home for the Lantern Festival yet."

Someone whistled, and someone else clapped their hands softly.

Qin Manni plucked the first chord.

"You betrayed me like this..."

It's Na Ying's "Betrayal".

When Na Ying sang this song in the original version, it was with a heart-wrenching resolve, the kind of fierce intensity that screams, "You think you're so great just because I love you?" But when Qin Manni sang it—

It's not the same flavor at all.

Her voice was too clean, so clean that it couldn't convey any harshness. Her "betrayal" didn't sound like an accusation, but rather like a whispered question: Do you really not want me anymore?

In the chorus, "I sold myself but couldn't get you"—when she sang "couldn't get you," her voice rose slightly, as if she were testing the waters or anticipating something.

It carries a feeling of longing to be accepted.

It's like a little girl standing in front of a shop window, watching everyone else being taken away while she's still stuck there, saying "I don't want to be bought," but thinking to herself—why hasn't anyone come yet?

The audience was completely silent.

Some people held their wine glasses but forgot to drink, some leaned back in their chairs with their eyes closed, and some lowered their heads to wipe the corners of their eyes with tissues—it was unclear whether they were moved or just had their eyes wet with the wind.