This is a perplexing matter, and also a sad story.

"Wang Fan! Come on! Accompany us and sing our new song."

Just as the two girls were about to engage in a heated debate, a voice calling for Wang Fan came from the small stage.

"I'm going up on stage to accompany you. You can sit for a while," Wang Fan said to Liang Liang, and went up on stage without saying goodbye to the two girls.

After Wang Fan went on stage, he sat down behind a Yamaha electronic keyboard.

There were three other people on the stage besides him: one sitting behind the drum set and two standing in front of the microphone.

"Are you Wang Fan's friend?"

Bored and without any goals, the two girls started chatting with Liang Liang.

The girl who was home was the one who asked the question. Her name should be Xiao Yao, that's what the girl who was looking at the night view called her.

“We’re from the same county,” Liang Liang replied politely.

"Oh! You play rock music too?"

Liang Liang shook her head: "I don't count, I sing pop songs."

"Singing pop songs?"

The two girls almost simultaneously pouted, immediately losing interest in continuing their conversation with Liang Liang, even though in terms of looks, Liang Liang was definitely no less attractive than the most attractive person in the bar.

I was looked down upon by the two girls.

The two girls fell silent, allowing Liang Liang to listen to the songs being sung on the small stage.

As Liang Liang listened, he frowned.

What is this song about?

A filthy alleyway, piles of garbage, swarms of flies, rats running everywhere, and a ragged homeless man with a cigarette dangling from his lips…

What is this trying to express?

This world is full of sunshine, beaches, and vast skies, yet these people keep fixated on garbage dumps. What kind of spirit is that?

Even if you're feeling down and lost, there's no need to become a homeless person.

As a reborn individual, Liang Liang is well aware that since the 1980s, the literary and artistic circles and the entertainment industry have entered a strange cycle.

If your work doesn't pursue freedom, your vision won't be broad.

You lack humanistic sentiment if you don't describe the tragic and dark side of society.

You lack depth if you don't expose some of the darkness in history.

You can't have insight without writing a few lines that satirize the country.

If your work doesn't contain a few foreign names or words, you have a narrow knowledge base and are out of touch with international standards.

If your work doesn't evoke sympathy and sorrow, then it's simply too lowbrow.

You can't be critical if you don't satirize the negative traits of your nation.

Finally, if you don't portray yourself as a victim of society, your work will be superficial and worthless, and will never become a classic.

It was in this environment that a large number of films were made, which, in Liang Liang's words, were specifically designed to target garbage dumps.

Those internationally award-winning films almost all follow this formula.

In order to win those worthless film awards, those big, second, and third directors made a large number of films in this style.

The same vibe exists in the rock scene; most songs are in this style.

What confusion, hesitation, darkness, and lack of direction...

The consequence was that, starting in 1995, the rock music scene stagnated for more than 20 years and was almost completely marginalized.

If it weren't for those few pseudo-rockers propping things up, probably very few people in the whole country would know what rock and roll is.

And then, these people look down on others.

well-!

The songs on stage didn't leave much of an impression on Liangliang; the only one that did was Wang Fan's electronic keyboard performance.

This guy plays the keyboard really well. He has a solid foundation, accurate pitch, and steady chords. He's already showing the beginnings of his own style.

His skill level is good enough to play in a professional orchestra.

After the song ended on stage, a few scattered applause and cheers rang out in the bar.

That's the problem with the arts and culture circles; they're always praising each other, which eventually leads to a situation where a small group of people are just indulging in self-congratulation.

Although the accompaniment was over, Wang Fan did not return. Instead, he leaned against the bar, drinking beer and chatting with some long-haired people.

They must have talked about Liangliang, because the eyes of those long-haired people, both men and women, swept over him several times.

It's clear that Wang Fan holds a fairly high position in this circle.

Wang Fan waved to Liang Liang.

Liang Liang stood up and went to the bar.

As soon as Liang Liang arrived at the bar, the waiter opened a bottle of beer for him.

In this life, Liang Liang has no intention of smoking or drinking.

But since he'd opened the bottle, he had to drink it, and there was an 80% chance he'd have to pay for the drinks these people were drinking.

He naturally understood these things.

A bottle of beer costs 1.5 yuan outside, but here it costs 3 yuan.

He can still afford those two sums of money.

"Xiao Liang! Let me introduce you to some big shots at the Lost Bar. This is Zhang Hai, the guitarist."

Wang Fan pointed to a young man who looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with hair almost reaching his waist.

This young man is the one who sang "The Tramp" on stage just now.

"Brother Hai! Hello!" Liang Liang extended his hand with a sincere smile.

Zhang Hai picked up the bottle and tilted his head back to drink, not even glancing at Liang Liang.

The atmosphere was a little awkward.

"This is Ling Hongbing, the best drummer in the Lost Bar."

Wang Fan quickly introduced the next person.

"Hello, soldier!" Liang Liang was unaffected by Zhang Hai's disdain and still extended his hand with a smile.

He received the same treatment as before, except that Ling Hongbing didn't drink alcohol. He also reached out his hand, but instead took a cigarette offered to him, lit it with a lighter, and smoked it by himself.

This left Liang Liang's hand stretched out helplessly.

The other people all treated Liang Liang similarly, except for one guitarist named Liu Yuyong, who shook hands with Liang Liang and nodded.

Then there was an awkward silence.

Some of these men were drinking with their heads down, some were smoking with their heads up, and some were flirting with girls, but none of them said anything to Liang Liang.

Liang Liang took a deep breath.

Although Wang Fan didn't think much of Liang Liang either, he had to smooth things over out of consideration for his fellow villager.

"Xiao Liang! Didn't you say you wanted to find a few people to form a band? Tell me who you need. These people are arguably the best musicians in Lianwan."

"I…"

"etc!"

Liang Liang was about to introduce herself when she was interrupted by a bassist named Han Lin.

"Wang Fan said you sing pop?"

"I used to sing pop songs in a makeshift troupe, but the troupe leader's wife went home to have her baby, so I stayed..."

"No need to go into so much detail. What do you guys think? I'm not interested, so don't worry about me." Han Lin said expressionlessly before heading to get a bottle of wine for his female companion.

“I’m not interested either!” Ling Hongbing stated.

"Don't worry about me." After saying that, Zhang Hai emptied a bottle of beer.

Liu Yuyong and the other two people remained silent.

Liu Yuyong looked around and blinked twice: "Brother Liang, it seems like you've wandered into the wrong movie set since you sing pop. Everyone here plays rock."

"Brother Liu! Rock and pop are just different performance styles. In my opinion, the difference isn't that big."

Liang Liang's remark drew a chorus of ridicule, and one girl even spat out the wine in her mouth.

Is it really that funny?