Chapter Seventy-One: The Artistic Flair of Emperor Sa

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(Happy Mother’s Day to everyone! And don’t forget to recommend and bookmark—Black Car thanks you all.)

As someone who had experienced another life and heard all sorts of “The Voice” and “Good Songs,” Wu Xiang could only say this singing had some skill, but at this moment, he was utterly stunned—not by the voice, but by the person singing.

The bar’s resident singer stood on stage with flowing long hair—not quite waist-length, but certainly longer than Old Master Wang’s. He had a wide mouth, high cheekbones, thick brows, squinting eyes with slightly puffy lids, an average build, and was dressed in a trendy sailor-striped shirt. There was no mistaking it—this was none other than the future King of the Silver Screen, Huang Bo!

Huang Bo! That’s right, it was definitely him. Wu Xiang could swear to the heavens he couldn’t possibly be mistaken, but…

Wu Xiang could also swear to the heavens that he had never seen Huang Bo with such an artistic aura!

He looked every bit the rock youth—the voice, the movements, the wild energy, all absolutely convincing. And that hair, whipping around…

“Xiangzi, you’re dumbstruck?” Wang Feng, seeing Wu Xiang’s expression, almost burst out laughing. Wu Xiang’s mouth was hanging open, wide enough to fit two tea eggs (if you tried with regular eggs, it wouldn’t do justice to Wu Xiang’s current status in the film world).

“Ah, no, I… Is this the person you wanted to introduce me to?” Wu Xiang quickly snapped out of it. It made sense—Wang, the old master, had kept him here probably because of Huang Bo.

“Sharp as ever!” Wang Feng loved chatting with smart people. “This is my buddy—a real good friend of mine. But you know what? He’s absolutely obsessed with you. Ever since he heard your ‘Chasing Dreams with a Child’s Heart,’ it’s like he’s been possessed; he sings that song all the time! And after he found out I know you, he’s been pestering me every day, just wanting to meet you, to see you in person. But you, you’re always so busy…”

Wu Xiang was completely at a loss. He could hardly imagine—the illustrious Huang Bo, considering him an idol?

In the future, Huang Bo would be a role model for countless young people—Wu Xiang included. Him and Bao Qiang, those two were the definition of inspirational. Just their appearances were motivating enough. Throw in Huang Hai Bo, and you’d have the ultimate trio of inspiration!

“Just… just to see me?” Wu Xiang still found it hard to believe.

“Come on, you’re here now! Sign an autograph for him, maybe give him a few tips. I know you’ve always got tricks up your sleeve, and he’s a solid guy—just hasn’t had his break yet. Seems like a shame,” Wang Feng said frankly.

Even if Wang hadn’t spoken up, Wu Xiang was already planning to give some pointers to the future king of the screen. What a golden opportunity—someone seeking you out! It was like soloing mid-lane, and someone just walks over to hand you a free kill.

Wu Xiang quickly cleared his head. By this time, Huang Bo had just finished singing and received a fair amount of applause—the response wasn’t bad.

“Come, let me introduce you. This is Wu Xiang, Director Wu. This is Huang Bo. Get to know each other,” Wang Feng said, putting on a bit of a brotherhood act.

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“Ah, Mr. Wu, I’m finally meeting you!” Huang Bo was so excited, finally seeing his idol in the flesh.

Hearing this, Wu Xiang broke out in a cold sweat. “Please, if we go by age I should be calling you big brother. Don’t call me Mr. Wu—I don’t deserve it.” In fact, Wu Xiang knew he was younger than Huang Bo.

“No, no…” Huang Bo was sincerely earnest. “You absolutely deserve it! Just for that song you wrote—every time I sing it, I feel empowered. I’ve been struggling in this business for years, and there were so many times I wanted to give up. But whenever I sing that song, I… I…” Huang Bo was getting emotional, tears almost welling up.

It seemed everyone in the music scene had a story; those talent shows weren’t just made up.

Wu Xiang couldn’t let Huang Bo actually cry. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder and, in a warm, heartfelt tone, said, “Well, you’ve met me now, haven’t you? That’s reason to be happy! Come on, let’s have a drink. From now on, you stick with me—I’ll make sure you’re living the good life.”

Was this turning into a mob gathering?

Just then, Chen Sicheng chimed in, “So, if you’re his teacher, does that make me his uncle-master?”

Always looking to get something out of it, Wu Xiang thought about buying last year’s watch and retorted, “Go cool off somewhere else!”

But Huang Bo, honest as ever, said, “No, Mr. Wu, he can be my uncle-master. He’s your relative, right? That’s not wrong.”

“Come on!” Wu Xiang groaned. He hadn’t expected Huang Bo to be so earnest. “Don’t listen to his nonsense. Just listen to me. Don’t call me Mr. Wu—it makes me sound old. You should call me…”

Wu Xiang was about to say “Brother Wu,” since that’s what he usually heard from Chen Sicheng, but then realized that didn’t seem right—Huang Bo was older than him.

“Brother Wu, just call him Brother Wu,” Wang Feng interjected, tired of the back-and-forth over a simple title.

“Alright, Brother Wu… Brother Wu…” Huang Bo repeated the name over and over.

Wu Xiang wanted to ask if he’d eaten too much rainbow candy, but swallowed it and said, “Alright, Huang Bo, here’s a suggestion…”

“Just call me Little Bo,” Huang Bo replied, always so humble.

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Wu Xiang felt a wave of emotion—there were no words for it. Getting to the point, he said, “Honestly, I think you should stop singing. Not that you’re bad, but I just feel it’s not your calling. Don’t get me wrong—you’re good. But I think you’d be great at acting. Come work with me—what do you say?”

There was a moment of silence. Everyone looked at Wu Xiang as if he were an alien.

This uniquely artistic, sailor-shirted, rock-spirited young man—could he really act?

Even Huang Bo couldn’t believe it. He knew what he looked like, after all. Was Brother Wu suggesting he become a specialty actor?

“Why are you all staring at me?” Wu Xiang was puzzled, but then realized—of course, no one knew that this rock youth would become the future film emperor, the King of the Silver Screen.

“I’ve got my eye on Little Bo. Someday, I’m going to make him my leading man!”

Wu Xiang suddenly recalled a rather fitting phrase: Believe it or not, I believe it!

“I’ll do it! I’ll listen to you, Brother Wu!” Huang Bo didn’t hesitate. That was it—he’d switch to the acting world and leave singing behind!

“Hey, now,” a voice suddenly interjected, “do you really think he can be a leading man?”

Wu Xiang and the others turned toward the voice, and Wu Xiang couldn’t help but complain internally.

I thought I was tall, but you’re even taller than me!

The speaker was a towering man. Wu Xiang was already 1.87 meters, but this guy looked even taller. He was somewhat unkempt, with features even more eccentric than Wu Xiang, who didn’t care much for his appearance. Most striking were his eyes, which seemed to look down on you with a perpetual air of disdain, as if he were always half asleep.

Who was this man?