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Liao Jia was a vagabond singer with a personality that filled the room.
At first glance, he didn't look like a renowned music heavyweight at all. No, he seemed more like a Big Brother straight out of an old Hong Kong gangster flick, the kind who'd sit in a run-down teahouse all day, sipping dim sum tea while secretly directing his boys to collect protection fees across the city.
Within the circle, though, Liao Jia was known for his boldness and loyalty. His aura was unique; stand before him, and you couldn't help but feel a faint sense of awe.
But the moment he walked onto the stage with a guitar in hand, he became someone else entirely.
This was the other Liao Jia: a vagabond singer. A rock vagabond singer. A hardened veteran who had once thrown everything away for his ideals.
The instant he struck the steel strings and roared out his first line, the crowd of tens of thousands erupted. It was like cold water thrown into boiling oil, exploding in a frenzy of sound.
Commemorating reckless youth.
Commemorating love long dead.
Commemorating friendships that never fade.
With his original song 'Anniversary', Liao Jia poured out his longing for the years gone by, his grief for lost time, his anger and confusion at this bizarre world. The pounding rhythm, the raw, unpolished lyrics, paired with his uniquely raspy howl, dragged the audience back to an era that had once belonged wholly to rock.
They shouted with him. They screamed with him. They roared and remembered alongside him!
In the backer zone, every vagabond singer, including Lu Chen, rose to their feet, paying tribute to this rock veteran who had never truly bowed his head.
Many fans had once accused him of betrayal. They said the man who had written 'Vine House' and 'Old Fellow' had fallen, that in an age when Chinese rock was fading, he had abandoned the genre to bow to the market.
But here and now, standing on that stage, he was still the same long-haired youth in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, guitar in hand, howling his dreams of freedom into the night.
The atmosphere of the festival hit its peak in an instant. The cheers and cries rose like a tidal wave, countless voices chanting one name:
"Liao Jia!"
That name itself was a symbol of a bygone era. Yet by the time he finished 'Anniversary', sweat poured down his face and his chest heaved for breath.
Time was merciless. The rock youth had grown old. Years of cigarettes and alcohol had eaten away at his body. He could never again reach the peak of his prime.
Just like 'Anniversary'.
It carried the pure bloodline of Chinese rock, yes. But in truth, its melody and lyrics lacked the freshness of old; it could not compare to masterpieces like 'Vine House' or 'Old Fellow'.
The audience was stirred, deeply moved by his performance, but not entirely satisfied.
"'Old Fellow'!"
No one knew who shouted it first, but in moments, it swelled into a thunderous chorus:
"'Old Fellow'! 'Old Fellow'!"
They wanted to hear that anthem of Chinese rock once more. Unsurprisingly, Liao Jia gave them what they asked for. He sang 'Old Fellow' again.
Written in the late nineties, when Chinese rock was already retreating into the shadows, that song had become a classic, the final blaze of glory before the genre's decline. That album had been hailed as the last true milestone of Chinese rock, and in all the years since, Liao Jia had never released anything that could measure up.
Nearly twenty years had passed, yet the song's charm had only grown richer with age, like wine steeped in memory. But the heart behind his performance had changed.
It carried too much weariness. Too much resignation.
The crowd quieted. Listening to that familiar melody, to the voice that was no longer young, many veteran fans couldn't hold back their tears. Some wept silently. Some sang softly along.
Time batters away all brilliance. No matter their unwillingness, Chinese rock was already history. Even the 72H Grassland Music Festival could not revive pure rock. Just as Liao Jia himself could not save it.
And in that moment, many fans forgave him, for his supposed betrayal of rock.
Because to have lived through that era, that was enough.
Liao Jia felt it too, the heavy emotion of the crowd pressing into him, moving him to his core. By the end, his eyes were red as well.
As the last note faded, he held his guitar close and bowed deeply.
It was his way of thanking the most genuine, the most loyal, the most beautiful fans a singer could ask for.
"Encore! Encore! Encore!"
The next moment, the chant rose again, roaring like thunder, surging like the tide.
This was the audience calling for an encore from Liao Jia.
According to the 72H rules, whether you were a wandering solo singer or a full band, you could only perform at most two songs on stage. But if you were good enough to win over the crowd and earn an encore, you were allowed one more.
And the 72H audience was notoriously picky. Winning the approval of the majority was no easy feat. From noon until now, only a handful of singers and bands had managed to be called back.
After two high-intensity songs, Liao Jia was drenched in sweat, his cotton shirt clinging to his back. Yet he showed not a hint of fatigue, his energy was radiant, his eyes blazing as if lit from within.
No one refuses their fans' calls for an encore. Liao Jia was no exception.
His third song was his signature piece, "The Ivy House."
Compared to the raw aggression of "Old Guy," this rock number carried more of a nostalgic weight. With its softer tempo and mellow light-rock melody, it was the perfect closing act.
Though Liao Jia's voice had grown a little hoarse, he delivered "The Ivy House" with such feeling that the audience was utterly entranced, listening as if spellbound.
By the end, fans were still shouting "Encore!" trying to hold onto this veteran rocker a little longer.
But Liao Jia did not break the 72H rules. After bowing deeply several times in gratitude, he stepped off the stage, , leaving it to the next performer.
When he returned to the backstage area, all the other wandering singers broke into applause, paying their respects to him.
Liao Jia grinned, clasped his hands together in salute, and said warmly, "Thank you, thank you!"
Then he strode back to his seat beside Lu Chen, plopped down heavily, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and couldn't wait to ask, "So? Still got the confidence?"
The gleam in his eyes was almost childlike, like a kid showing off a brand-new slingshot to his friends.
Lu Chen laughed and gave him a big thumbs-up. "Brother Liao, you're a legend!"
And he meant it. Lu Chen truly admired how Liao Jia's voice hadn't dulled with age; if anything, it had grown richer. Some wandering singers grew more flavorful the older they got, and Liao Jia was living proof. Hearing him live was nothing short of exhilarating.
"Don't flatter me."
Liao Jia shot him a sideways glance, his expression dimming. "Truth is, I know my first songs weren't that great. These days I'm just living off old glory to keep my popularity."
"Brother Liao, don't say that, " Lu Chen tried to comfort him.
"You don't need to."
Liao Jia shook his head, patted Lu Chen on the shoulder, wiping more sweat on him in the process, and said quietly, "The future of the music scene belongs to you guys."
Lu Chen was left at a loss for words.
Between Liao Jia's set and Lu Chen's upcoming slot, three more singers and one band went up. The three singers that followed Liao Jia were all relative unknowns, and though they sang their hearts out, the quality of their work was average. The crowd offered little applause or recognition.
That was the unforgiving style of the 72H Grassland Music Festival: if your performance wasn't good enough, don't expect mercy from the audience. There were no planted fans here, begging for applause would only get you booed.
But the band right before Lu Chen, Wednesday Band, instantly grabbed the spotlight.
Within the rock circle, Wednesday Band carried some weight. Their vocalist, Shi Gang, was a talented singer-songwriter whose piece "Ballad of the Earth" had once made a huge splash at 72H, earning him the title of "rock's rising star."
Yet fame had slipped away quickly. After two albums, they stopped releasing much new work, and in recent years had nearly vanished from the scene.
Now, at this year's 72H, Wednesday Band had clearly come prepared, making their comeback with fresh material.
They performed two new light-rock songs, "City of Solitude" and "Wound." Both were solid in melody and lyrics, and Shi Gang's delivery hit all the right notes, bringing real depth to the performances.
So far, there had been over a hundred original songs unveiled at this year's festival, yet "City of Solitude" and "Wound" stood out among the best. Especially "Wound", its soaring chorus left the audience's hearts pounding, and the applause thundered without end.
Unsurprisingly, after their two songs, Wednesday Band too was granted an encore.
Their encore piece? The very song that had once made them famous, "Ballad of the Earth."
"Ten years honing a single blade," Liao Jia muttered in the backstage area, watching the stage. "Shi Gang's really matured."
"You're friends with him?" Lu Chen asked.
Liao Jia shook his head. "Not exactly. We've talked a couple times. Wednesday Band used to gig around Capital City, then moved to Deepsea. Heard things didn't go so well for them there."
"And now they clearly want back in."
His tone was matter-of-fact. The truth was, the heart of China's pop-rock scene had always been in Capital City. No matter how well a singer or band did elsewhere, if they weren't in Capital City, they were never truly part of the core circle.
Whether it was Hu Hai or Deepsea, those places were always just the margins.
For any wandering singer or band with ambition, Capital City was the only stage that mattered.
And 72H Grassland Music Festival was exactly that kind of stage, , a place where dreams could be realized.
Wednesday Band had left once, but now they had returned, armed with good songs and determination.
"Feeling the pressure?" Liao Jia grinned at Lu Chen. "It's your turn next."
"Of course."
Lu Chen rose to his feet, his eyes steady. "But pressure is the one thing I never fear."
If this was a challenge, then he welcomed it with open arms.
That was Lu Chen's confidence.
(End Of This Chapter)