Chapter 151: The Resident Singer
Chapter 151: The Resident Singer
Nighttime.
Moyu Internet Café, Flagship Store.
Ma Yang and Zhang Yuan were sitting by the window, sipping some liquor and watching the sparse trickle of customers. The atmosphere, somehow, felt a little melancholic.
There are still hardly any customers!
By now, two more Moyu Internet Cafés were under renovation and should be opening soon.
However, the flagship store of Moyu Internet Café was still steadily operating at a loss.
The revenue had stabilized. Many regulars were even on a first-name basis with the staff, but no matter how they crunched the numbers, this number of patrons simply couldn't support the café’s operating costs.
Ma Yang and Zhang Yuan—one the general manager of Moyu Internet Café, the other the regional manager of the Jingzhou branch—were drinking away their sorrows.
Zhang Yuan downed the drink in front of him in one gulp: “I’m going to sing a couple of songs.”
Ma Yang reached out, trying to stop him: “Forget it, no one’s really here to listen…”
Counting the two of them, there were only eight people drinking.
Zhang Yuan stood up anyway. “It’s fine. Just yelling out a few notes helps let off some steam.”
When he got on stage, Zhang Yuan did what he always did—strummed his guitar a few times, thinking about what to sing tonight.
As for the people drinking below, they were mostly regulars by now, so no one was particularly surprised.
Besides, what Internet café doesn’t have a resident singer these days? It wasn’t anything special.
Back when Moyu Internet Café first opened, Zhang Yuan would sing his heart out every night. But it hadn’t really helped—the bump in popularity was minimal.
Over time, he started singing less and less. Tonight, it was the alcohol that gave him a sudden burst of inspiration to take the stage again.
Zhang Yuan didn’t bother with any pleasantries. After tuning his equipment, he started singing.
It wasn’t heavenly or anything, but it was pretty good. After all, he used to be a resident singer at a bar—there was no question about his vocal chops.
His deep, raspy voice drifted out slowly.
He had tried singing intense rock songs before, but quickly realized the crowd just didn’t vibe with it—not hyped at all.
So later on, he switched to slower songs, or folk music.
That way, at least it wouldn’t feel awkward in the room.
Ma Yang drank as he listened to Zhang Yuan’s singing, his thoughts drifting.
Suddenly, he noticed a blurry figure outside the glass wall—someone standing hesitantly at the door.
It was nighttime, and the lights inside the café were brighter than outside. From the outside, you could clearly see what was going on inside, but from inside, it was harder to see out.
Still, there was definitely someone pacing at the entrance.
‘A new customer?’
‘And they’re hesitating—that means we might be able to reel them in!’
Ma Yang perked up instantly.
Even though he was now the general manager of Moyu Internet Café, who said general managers couldn’t pull in customers?
Ma Yang was not one to put on airs.
He opened the café door, smiling warmly: “Hey buddy, come on in and hang out!”
The guy at the door was clearly startled. He’d been standing there thinking, and suddenly the door swung open and a long face popped out.
The guy looked down, a little embarrassed. “I… I’m not here to go online.”
“No worries, you can just have a drink,” Ma Yang said enthusiastically.
He sized the guy up—honestly, not much to look at. Messy hair, clothes that looked a bit worn but still tidy.
The guy scratched his messy head. “I… I wanted to ask if you're still hiring resident singers?”
Ma Yang: “…”
A little disappointed.
We’re not short on workers—we’re short on customers!
Even if there are no customers, what good is great singing, really?
Seeing Ma Yang’s long face visibly droop with disappointment, the young man quickly added, “I just thought… I sing better than that guy, so I wanted to give it a shot.”
Ma Yang thought about it—actually, that might work.
Zhang Yuan was now the regional manager of Moyu Internet Café in Jingzhou. He couldn’t be getting on stage to sing every night anymore.
Hiring a new resident singer wasn’t a bad idea at all.
“Alright. What’s your name?”
“Chen Lei.”
“Come on in, then.”
Ma Yang led Chen Lei into the Moyu Internet Café and found a random seat for him to wait.
After a while, Zhang Yuan finished another song and stepped down for a break.
Ma Yang pointed to the stage. “Go ahead. Don’t be nervous.”
Ma Yang didn’t really have a musical ear—he couldn't judge whether someone was good or bad at singing. He figured as long as this guy was decent enough to fill in for Zhang Yuan, it would do.
Zhang Yuan had just poured himself a glass of water when he turned around and saw that his stage spot had been taken.
A young man he didn’t recognize was up there, fiddling with the guitar, clearly getting ready to perform.
Zhang Yuan sat down next to Ma Yang, baffled. “Brother Ma, who’s that?”
“His name’s Chen Lei. He’s here to apply as a resident singer. I figured if he’s any good, we can let him handle the singing. You can take more time to rest.”
Ma Yang added warmly, “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Now that we’ve already hired a new bartender, if we bring on a singer too, you can focus entirely on café operations.”
Zhang Yuan wanted to say that honestly, he didn’t have all that much to do, but hearing Ma Yang say that made him feel a little touched.
Wait, hang on—did we ever put out a job listing for a resident singer?
Just as Zhang Yuan was about to ask, a voice rang out through the café—a voice that was both clear and tinged with a bit of rasp.
“Spring flowers blossom – autumn winds chime — and the sun sets in wintertime—”
Zhang Yuan paused. “He’s singing an oldie?”
This song, The Story of Time by Luo Dayou, was extremely well-known—nearly everyone had heard it at some point.
But the moment Chen Lei opened his mouth, it was like the entire bar turned to look at the stage.
It was as if a stream of clear water had spilled from the stage, washing over everyone and drawing them in.
Zhang Yuan froze for a second, then couldn’t help but hum along softly.
Ma Yang sipped his drink and mumbled, “Doesn’t sound as good as you, though.”
Zhang Yuan shot him a helpless glance. “Brother Ma… he’s way better than me.”
“Really?” Ma Yang looked surprised. “His voice can’t hit the high notes or the low ones—what’s so good about it?”
Zhang Yuan felt like they were speaking two different languages. But considering Ma Yang was his boss, he kept a polite smile.
“A great singing voice isn’t just about range. It has the power to move people. And with that kind of tone singing folk songs—it’s like he was born for it.”
“You can’t fake that kind of gift.”
“If you don’t believe me, look at how everyone else is reacting.”
Ma Yang looked around at the customers.
When Zhang Yuan was singing earlier, everyone was still drinking, chatting—sure, they were listening, but it was more like ambient background noise.
But after Chen Lei started singing, the room felt frozen.
Everyone was quietly sipping their drinks. No one spoke, no one laughed. A few people stared at Chen Lei on stage, lost in thought—who knows what kind of memories the song had stirred.
Zhang Yuan sighed in admiration. “Brother Ma, where’d you even find a talent like this?”
Ma Yang paused for a moment. “…He found us.”
Zhang Yuan: “Well, that’s quite the coincidence.”
“Actually, not really,” Ma Yang said. “He told me he heard you singing from outside and thought he could do better—so he got up the nerve to come in. I think this credit should go to you.”
Zhang Yuan: “…”
“Brother Ma, I changed my mind. Can we not hire him?”
“Nope.”
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