After the divorce, he went on a motorcycle trip, and his ex-wife and daughter were filled with regre

Jiang Ye got out of the car and walked along the somewhat damp alley, pushing open a heavy wooden door with a neon sign hanging on it.

This is an underground livehouse bar called "Echo".

This bar isn't large, and its decor has a retro industrial style, with the walls covered in posters of various underground bands and vinyl records. Although it lacks the luxury and noise of the larger nightclubs outside, the atmosphere here is great and particularly pure.

In the past, whether he suffered setbacks at work or was troubled by relationship problems, Jiang Ye always liked to come here alone whenever he was in a bad mood.

Order a drink and quietly listen to those unknown independent bands performing their heart-wrenching or sentimental songs on stage, as if that will empty all the garbage in your heart.

It was a weekday tonight, and the location was rather remote, so there weren't many customers in the bar; they were scattered around in a few booths.

The stage lights were dim, and a resident singer with stubble was holding a wooden guitar, his eyes closed, singing a sad folk song in a slightly weathered voice.

Jiang Ye walked straight to the bar counter, pulled out a high stool, and sat down.

"Same as always, Black Label, with ice, no drinks."

The bartender nodded and quickly brought over a glass of amber-colored spirit. Without a word, Jiang Ye picked up the glass and took a big gulp.

The icy liquor flowed down my throat, turning into a fire that burned in my stomach.

He drank one glass of wine after another in silence, trying to numb the chaotic thoughts about Xia Yu and Han Qingru in his mind with the domineering power of alcohol.

After a few glasses of strong liquor, the alcohol begins to take effect in the bloodstream.

Jiang Ye's eyes became somewhat unfocused, as if the emotions he had been suppressing were looking for an outlet, and he grew bolder as a result.

The resident singer on stage had just finished singing a song, put down his guitar, and went backstage to rest and have a drink of water.

Fueled by alcohol, Jiang Ye staggered to his feet and walked straight onto the small but atmospheric stage.

He pulled out a few hundred-yuan bills from his wallet, stuffed them into the hands of the keyboardist who was about to leave the stage, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Hey bro, can you do me a favor and give me some simple chords? I want to sing a song."

The keyboardist took the money, nodded readily, and sat back down on the piano bench.

Jiang Ye picked up the microphone and stood under a spotlight in the center of the stage. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, as if to exhale all his fatigue and confusion.

A simple keyboard intro begins, carrying a touch of melancholy and etherealness.

Jiang Ye gripped the microphone tightly, his deep, husky voice, with a barely perceptible tremor, slowly spreading through the bar.

I want to go somewhere with you.

"The winds there will not blow away our hopes."

"No city noise, no cold city walls."

I want to go somewhere with you.

"The stars there will guide us through the night."

"No need for suspicion, no need for pretense, just the true self."

"But, oh but, halfway there, you let go of my hand..."

"I stand here alone, looking back at the road I came from, the ground covered with the frost of regret."

This is an old song that tells a story about missed opportunities, regrets, and unfulfilled promises.

Jiang Ye didn't show off any singing skills.

He sang entirely with emotion, pouring all his confusion, longing for the Cloud Wasteland, and emotional turmoil and pain into his hoarse voice.

His voice is full of stories and a poignant sense of heartbreak.

After the song ended, the entire bar became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Among the few guests in the audience, several sentimental girls had their eyes reddening and were secretly wiping their eyes with tissues.

Even the keyboard player from earlier looked at Jiang Ye with some emotion.

Jiang Ye put down the microphone, bowed slightly, and walked off the stage amidst sparse but sincere applause.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the steps, he bumped into someone.

This is the owner of a bar, named Zhao Changjiang.

Zhao Changjiang is a middle-aged man with long hair, wearing a distressed denim jacket, and exuding the air of a wandering artist.

Jiang Ye used to come here often and was a regular customer of the shop. He and Zhao Changjiang had become very close and called each other brothers.

"Yezi, you're not in the right mood tonight. Your songs are full of bitterness."

Zhao Changjiang handed Jiang Ye a glass of freshly made chilled lemonade to help him sober up.

"Thanks. I've just been feeling a bit down lately, so I came up here to yell a bit to vent." Jiang Ye took the water and drank a sip, feeling much better in his stomach.

The two walked to a quiet booth in the corner of the bar and sat down.

Zhao Changjiang lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. Through the smoke, he looked at the somewhat deserted bar lobby and sighed heavily.

His tone was filled with endless helplessness and regret.

"Yezi, you may never hear my folk songs again."

Jiang Ye was taken aback, his brows furrowing slightly: "What's wrong? What happened?"

Zhao Changjiang gave a wry smile and flicked his cigarette ash: "What else can we do? The economic climate has been bad these past two years, and everyone's short on cash, so fewer people are going out to spend money. Plus, last month two new big trendy nightclubs opened on the next street, the kind where you go clubbing and DJing, and they've drawn all the young people away."

"My independent bar, which focuses on nostalgia, has been losing money for more than half a year. I'm almost unable to pay the rent and the musicians' salaries. I really can't hold on any longer."

At this point, a hint of reluctance and pain flashed in Zhao Changjiang's eyes.

"I plan to officially close down at the end of this month and transfer the shop to another owner. I'll find another way to make a living."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Ye felt a surge of intense regret.

In this materialistic metropolis where everyone pursues a fast-paced and exciting lifestyle, it's truly rare to find such a quiet place where you can simply listen to music.

This bar holds many memories of his youth and is a rare haven for him.

If it closes down like this, we won't be able to find a quiet place to drink and listen to music anymore.

Seeing Zhao Changjiang's dejected and unwilling expression, a thought suddenly flashed through Jiang Ye's mind like lightning.

This bar absolutely cannot go out of business.

He reached out and patted Zhao Changjiang on the shoulder heavily, saying in a serious tone, "It's such a waste to close such a good venue like this. Your musicians are making a living off you."

Zhao Changjiang shook his head helplessly: "What's the use of that? Sentimentality can't put food on the table."

"Changjiang, if you trust my brother, don't rush to transfer the band or disband it."

Jiang Ye stared into Zhao Changjiang's eyes and said, word by word, "I'll find you a new venue. I guarantee it'll be bigger, have more potential, and be absolutely perfect for independent music like yours. Your band and all your equipment can be moved there directly."

Zhao Changjiang looked at Jiang Ye with a mixture of belief and doubt.

He knew Jiang Ye had some money, but opening a bar now was just throwing money away.

"Yezi, are you kidding me? With the current situation, where are we going to find a new place?"

Jiang Ye didn't explain further, knowing that Zhao Changjiang wouldn't understand anything about the Cloud Wasteland now.

"Don't ask so many questions. Just give me face and get through this month. Leave me your contact information so I can prepare the manpower when the time comes."

. . . .