Chapter 40: Indulgence

Lin Jianlu’s primary purpose for this trip to Taiwan was to attend the series of promotional events hosted by Rock Records for his album "Cold to the End." However, since he was already there, he decided to extend his stay by a few days to handle the remix required for the so-called "Ten-Million Celebration Edition."

Old Li suggested creating remixes for both "Cold to the End" and "Xiaoxiang Rain," noting that they could try both and see which one felt better—it was standard practice in the industry. It involved no technical difficulty; it was purely a gimmick to justify a higher price. So, they went ahead with it, as Rock Records had top-tier sound engineers.

To Lin, however, this practice felt rather shameful. If you’re going to claim "more content for the same price," you should actually provide more content, not just a throwaway remix. It felt like nothing more than a way to fleece die-hard fans.

At lunch, while the team at the office was eating takeout, Lin was unusually quiet. He listened as Old Li and the others praised his song, "So Many People in This World." To Old Li, "Heart Too Soft" or "Noisy" were just standard fare—what one would expect from Lin—not worthy of much praise. But "So Many People in This World" was, in his view, a cut above the rest. He loved it and held it in high regard.

There is a paradox in the music world that differs from what many believe: most creators with "literary" sensibilities desperately want to succeed commercially, and aren't as self-absorbed or isolated as people think. Conversely, those who are commercially successful often yearn to experiment with the alternative or the artsy—much like how pop singers are strangely fond of rock music. Yet, very few people manage to bridge the two worlds. When they do, they become legends—like Luo Dayou, Jonathan Lee, or Jay Chou. In Old Li’s assessment, even with his limited catalog, Lin Jianlu clearly belonged in that league.

"So Many People in This World," in his opinion, was a classic example of a song with character, style, and a beautiful, catchy melody that didn't pander to the masses. It was hard for it to become a massive chart-topper, but it was destined to be a hit. It was perfect for Chen Shuhua’s current situation: a step forward to consolidate the popularity that was slowly beginning to drift away. At her level of fame, all it took was one song in a new EP that truly showcased her talent to secure her fans' loyalty.

Lin, however, didn't take any of this to heart, even though the praise came from Old Li. He knew that the "talent" they were admiring had nothing to do with him. So, he drifted off into his own thoughts.

It wasn't until a moment later that he snapped back to reality, realizing that they had started talking about the fact that Wong Ka Kui had been gone for three years. "Wait, it’s been three years?" he asked.

The room fell into a reflective mood. Someone with a good memory provided the exact date: June 30, 1993—the accident happened on the 24th, and he passed away on the 30th. The music scene over those few years had been the most prosperous in the history of Chinese pop, a vibrant and flourishing market. Because of that, the sudden deaths of a few rare individuals felt all the more profound. There was Wong Ka Kui in 1993 and Teresa Teng just last year. One had just turned thirty, the other just forty.

Going back further, the event that left the deepest impression on the Taiwanese was the suicide of Sanmao. Luo Dayou had been deeply shaken by it. When Sanmao passed, the only film for which she had written the screenplay, *Red Dust*, was still in theaters. The theme song, "Red Dust," was composed by Luo Dayou. In response, Luo added four lines of lyrics to his own work, "Youth Without Regrets," renamed it "The Dream Chaser," and it became the final signature song for Feng Feifei, who was already fading from the music scene.

*Let the wandering footprints write permanent memories in the desert.*
*The drifting handwriting is the hidden passion of your heart’s whispers.*
*In the cycle of past and future, who is lingering in the sound?*
*Foolish is the world that laughs at me, a care that is hard to resolve.*

This was written for Sanmao. In his previous life, Lin hadn't been aware of these stories, or perhaps he had seen them in archives but they hadn't left a deep impression. At a previous gathering, Luo Dayou had been present, and Jonathan Lee had recounted it himself. Lin still didn't truly understand who Sanmao was or why she was so great, so he couldn't fully grasp the complex sighs of those around him.

Suddenly, he set down his lunchbox and stood up. The group, immersed in their heavy conversation, stopped and looked at him in surprise. He walked a short distance away, grabbed some paper and a pen, and began to write.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Chen Shuhua was the first to stand up and walk over to stand behind him. As she watched, her expression gradually turned to one of astonishment. Then, Wakin Chau stood up and joined her. Soon, more people left their lunchboxes behind to gather around.

About ten minutes later, he stopped writing. He reviewed it carefully and wrote the title at the top: "Gift." After a moment's thought, he drew a line and added the subtitle: "In Memory of Ka Kui."

He tossed the pen aside, shook the thin sheets of paper, and looked at Duan Zhongtan, who was still chewing his food on the sidelines. "I want to invite a few more people to record this together and put it on the celebration edition."

Duan, still chewing and having not even seen a single word, nodded calmly. "It's your call."

***

It took Lin only three minutes to finalize the list of collaborators. Say what you will, but despite his short career, his connections were exceptional. Aside from the chorus, the song had ten segments. He remembered that in the version he loved in his past life, Xu Wei had sung two segments, so it was a nine-person chorus. But since he was the one organizing it, he wanted to go bigger.

The Rock Records camp would represent Taiwan: Luo Dayou, Jonathan Lee, Wakin Chau, Zhao Chuan, Wu Bai, and let’s add Chang Chen-yue—he was interesting, a bit rebellious, and a lot of fun. Six people—a strong, grand lineup.

He knew fewer singers from Hong Kong, but James Wong and Leslie Cheung were more than enough to anchor the song. As for the ones he didn't know, he’d leave them out. This kind of song was niche; it could be high-brow, and while it wouldn't make much money, it was perfect as a special treat for fans on a massive hit album. He would invite those he knew; it was a sign of respect, and they would likely give him face. He would offer a fee, but whether they took it didn't matter; friendship was more important. As for those he didn't know, it wasn't appropriate to ask, as there was no way to handle the royalty splits.

As for the mainland, there was Cui Jian, Liu Huan, Dou Wei, Zheng Jun, and Wang Feng. Including himself, that was just about right. Actually, the number was already over, but that didn't matter—he could just split one segment between two singers!

The real challenge was getting all these big shots from across the mainland, Taiwan, and Hong Kong into one song. But surely, he had enough clout for that now, right?

*Hmm, recording in the mainland isn't ideal—it would be a hassle for Luo Dayou and the others. Taiwan doesn't work either—it would be a hassle for Liu Huan and the others. Let’s record in Hong Kong!* Everyone could get there easily. Besides, Duan would cover all the expenses.

"Who owns the biggest recording studio in Hong Kong?"
"EMI."
"Can we borrow it?"
"No problem."

He started making calls. Five from the mainland—all agreed instantly. Two from Hong Kong—both agreed instantly. James Wong even offered to help contact the band BEYOND to invite them to participate and play the accompaniment.

He looked around. *Right...* A song like this with fourteen men was perfectly fine, but... *Forget it, let's remove Wu Bai.*

"Brother Luo, Brother Lee, Brother Wakin, Brother Zhao, Brother Yue... and... you!"

***

As the rising star of Rock Records—one of the three major labels in the industry—and hailed by Hong Kong and Taiwanese media as the new king capable of challenging the "Four Heavenly Kings" single-handedly, the owner of a record-breaking 760,000 sales in Hong Kong and the first artist in Taiwan history likely to reach 2 million in album sales, and the owner of the first diamond-certified album in the Chinese music world... when Lin Jianlu announced he wanted to record a new song, there was no doubt: every resource at Rock Records was mobilized instantly.

Calls were made, and everyone gave him face without the slightest hesitation. Things moved rapidly. Ge Fuhong and Sylvia Chang, who were just about to fly back to Hong Kong for business negotiations, received the call and immediately postponed their meetings to help coordinate. Flight tickets, logistics, accommodation, meals—Hong Kong was Ge Fuhong’s territory, and in this, Rock Records couldn't compete with her.

On June 23rd, within a span of two or three hours, planes from Beijing and Taipei arrived, bringing the most legendary group of people in the Chinese music scene. They joined James Wong, Leslie Cheung, Paul Wong, Wong Ka Keung, and Yip Sai Wing. The head of EMI personally hosted this powerful lineup, announcing that the largest and best recording studio in all of Asia had been cleared, and all other recording work had been suspended to make way for them.

They met that evening, exchanged brief pleasantries, handed out the sheet music, and began to practice. After a night's rest, they spent the next morning refining the coordination. In the afternoon, recording officially began.

It caused quite a stir. Although they hadn't been invited to participate in the recording, many people rushed over just to watch. It was rare for such a group of people to gather for a single project—there had only been a few such instances, like "Tomorrow Will Be Better," "Pearl of the Orient," and "Never Look Back." Furthermore, this was Lin Jianlu’s new song, and it was a tribute to Wong Ka Kui.

Duan Zhongtan, Ge Fuhong, Sylvia Chang, Faye Wong, Na Ying, Sun Nan, Sandy Lam, Tarcy Su, Gigi Leung, Kelly Lin, Brigitte Lin, Tsui Hark, Nansun Shi, Xue Zhongding, Florence Chan, and Kuan-jie... people came and went. Outside the studio, the place was packed, even when they were just practicing.

Just before the final recording, before entering the main studio, Faye Wong wore a cryptic smile. Her eyes swept across the crowd of onlookers before she quietly poked a certain man with her finger. When he turned back, she whispered, "You really are indulgent, aren't you?"

The new all-around creative king's new song, a tribute to Wong Ka Kui, inviting all the most prestigious figures in the Chinese music scene—and yet, among the fourteen, there was only one woman. It was far too conspicuous.

Chen Shuhua.

Looking around, one could only imagine the envy. Participating was nothing but a benefit. And this was definitely not just about earning a fee or royalties! Sandy Lam, Tarcy Su, Gigi Leung, Na Ying, Sun Nan... even many who weren't there, including Faye Wong herself—anyone who thought, "I could do that too," was green with envy.

But he had invited only one female singer. It was a deliberate, star-studded setup.

Lin Jianlu chuckled at her remark, waved his hand, and turned to walk into the recording studio.