Chapter Eight: As It Should Be

Lin Jianlu had actually prepared a bag full of cassette tapes in advance.

The courtyard of Building C had three sections in total, housing nineteen families of various sizes. He had prepared twenty-five boxes altogether, thoughtfully signing each one personally: “A gift from your neighbor at Building C — Lin Jianlu.”

Within just a few minutes, all the tapes were handed out.

He even kindly reminded everyone, “Make sure to keep them well, especially don’t ruin the signature. Someone online will definitely pay a high price for these someday! Absolutely a high price!”

This was about as much of a favor as he could offer his neighbors.

Hah, ever watched “Love in the Courtyard”? The neighborhood disputes were intense...

Luckily, the Lin family had several tough characters through two generations, or else it would have been nearly impossible to avoid being bullied.

Lin’s mother was no joke; she didn’t just brag. Hardly anyone in the neighborhood dared to go against her without getting shut down completely. When Lin Jianlu grew up, it was even more so. From a young age, he was mischievous without limits—big appetite, strong, bold, cunning, and unruly. By eighth grade, he had already gone to high school to pick fights, carrying a bench in and smashing it down. He ended up getting himself arrested and had to pay over three hundred yuan in medical fees later.

None of the young people in the Nanluogu Alley area dared to mess with him!

Lin’s father couldn’t help; he was an intellectual, unable to speak up or throw a punch...

“Jianlu, are you going to be a big star now?”

“Not really, just a small star.”

“Hmph, cut the act. Hey, is being a star really that lucrative?”

“Not much, only about 120 yuan a month.”

The moment those words came out, Old Gao, who had been chasing after him in the corridor, flushed red, then his expression darkened. Back when they were kids, it was one thing, but by middle school, Eryao was always pestering Lin Jianlu, driving him crazy. Fortunately, Lin wasn’t keen on hanging out with a girl like her, or else how could he have gotten into college?

“Eryao, come back! You haven’t finished your meal yet! All you do is listen to music. That’s decadent bourgeois noise, you know? It’ll corrupt you! You should be studying hard at your age. If you don’t, you won’t find a decent job after graduation and will have to do some shabby work…”

Before Old Gao could finish, Lin’s mother suddenly burst out of the west wing with a bang, scaring Old Gao into silence. She simply shouted at her daughter, “Come on, let’s go home!”

...

That was how the album was released.

Except for some commotion in the big courtyard early in the morning when the music video aired on the Capital TV station, Lin Jianlu didn’t really feel anything unusual.

But by afternoon, Xue Zhongding suddenly called the corner store and told Lin Jianlu to head immediately to the New Capital Hotel. When he arrived, he learned that even before the morning broadcast of “Music TV” on Capital TV had finished, hotline calls had already flooded in, demanding a replay of the “Cold to the Bone” music video. The program was scheduled and timed, so a replay couldn’t happen immediately, but Capital TV decided to air it again in the afternoon and once more in the evening.

No big deal.

These days, every TV station, big or small, is always short of content.

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There were almost no variety shows, and the production of dramas was seriously insufficient. Whenever a new one was made with decent quality, it would immediately become popular nationwide — this situation should have been noticed by many because, as Lin Jianlu remembered from his previous life, after around 2000, the number of dramas and variety shows started to increase.

But at least for now, there weren’t any.

What to do when there isn’t enough programming? Just rerun old stuff!

Old dramas played repeatedly, some old comedic sketches or crosstalk combined into a show called “Happy Moments,” a few music videos thrown together as “Music TV”—that was the variety programming at the time.

Repeatedly aired.

The problem domestically was that songs didn’t become hits, so there was no money to shoot music videos. Videos were only made for popular songs, so there weren’t many, and honestly, the footage was quite outdated and tacky.

Hong Kong and Taiwan had plenty of music videos. That industry was well-developed there, and the visuals were good. Compared to the mainland at the time, their picture quality and texture were overwhelmingly superior. But the issue was, no matter how popular stars like Jacky Cheung or Emil Chau were over there, pirated tapes sold wildly underground, but these music videos couldn’t be broadcast on official, state-run TV stations without censorship and formal import approval.

You couldn’t control piracy, but you definitely couldn’t allow unapproved content on TV.

Broadcasting them was a major political issue.

So naturally, a music video like “Cold to the Bone,” which Lin Jianlu had carefully scripted, had Gu Changwei as cinematographer, was shot on film, and meticulously color-graded and edited under Lin’s guidance—the result...

No boasting, compared to high-quality Hong Kong and Taiwan music videos, which crushed mainland productions of the same era, “Cold to the Bone” had picture quality that absolutely surpassed them!

It was no surprise the music video went viral instantly.

This also explained why Lin Jianlu, despite having a recording budget of over 200,000 yuan, insisted on recording quickly and cheaply to save money for making a music video—publicity, publicity!

You can’t sell records without shouting about them.

Looking back, this music video could be considered a success. From the excitement on Xue Zhongding and Zhang Peiren’s faces, Lin Jianlu knew the money was well spent.

That evening, Lin Jianlu was invited to the radio station.

After the music video aired, numerous hotline calls poured in. The outside world might not know, but anyone in the industry could guess. The radio station took action.

This wasn’t just because radio was more flexible.

The problem was that nowadays, even if you were willing to spend money on promotion for a new album, there weren’t many places to go—from local stations to the national broadcaster, there was hardly any variety programming. How could you appear?

Radio, on the other hand, had plenty of music shows, live broadcasts, and talk shows—always a chance to get on air!

So they reached out early, just hadn’t fixed the exact time.

He went.

While Hong Kong and Taiwan were Lin Jianlu’s most anticipated main markets, they were obviously out of his reach and control. On the mainland, though expectations for sales were far lower than Hong Kong and Taiwan, he was still happy to do anything that helped sell tapes.

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Two programs booked him—one at eight o’clock in the evening, another at half past midnight.

No pay. You just promote the album while the hosts fill the show with more guests.

It was the promotional period for the album’s first titular single. He chatted casually on the show, sang a few lines live, and that was it. After the show, he chatted idly with people from the Capital Radio Station before stepping outside.

It was late at night, not nearly as lively as thirty years later. The streets were quiet; he rode his bike home alone.

When he returned to the big courtyard, locked his bike under the eaves, he didn’t rush inside. Instinctively, he stood in front of the corridor, looking around the dark yard, feeling vaguely that something was missing.

Tonight didn’t feel quite complete.

Half a minute later, he figured out what it was.

He quickly walked to the window under Old Gao’s house in the east wing and tapped on the glass.

Three knocks. Someone inside woke up. He could hear Old Gao’s wife whispering a reminder and Old Gao groggily stirring. Then he asked, “Who is it? Who’s knocking on the window?”

“Old Gao, come on! Let’s go watch the flag-raising!”

Old Gao was still half asleep. “Huh? The... the flag-raising?”

“Tsk, the national flag raising, of course! Old Gao, how can you be like this? No matter how well off you get, you can’t forget the Party and the country’s proper leadership! We have to immerse ourselves in that regularly!”

No movement inside.

“Old Gao! Old Gao? Hurry up, or you’ll miss it! I’m telling you, you have to be enthusiastic! You can’t forget your original intention just because you have work, or you’ll be laid off sooner or later. Then all you’ll be able to do is some unrespectable jobs!”

“Hmph...”

A strange, complicated sigh came from inside. From a deeper room, a faint giggle of a girl hidden under the covers could be heard. Old Gao finally came to his senses, fully awake, furious, “Lin Jianlu! It must be you, brat!”

“It’s the middle of the night! What the hell flag-raising are you talking about? You’re ridiculous!”

“Get out of here! I swear I’m going to tell your parents tomorrow!”

He was about to say more, but Old Gao’s wife probably tugged at him. Listening closely, there was no more response outside. Then the sound of doors opening and closing came from the west wing.

Apparently, Lin Jianlu had successfully made his exit and slipped away.

Old Gao stood there stunned for several seconds. “Hmph...”

“That kid is really something else!”