Chapter 122: I'll Beat You to Death, You Bastard!

As the representative work of James Zhenyue, the classic status of this song "Love Me, Don’t Go" needs no further elaboration.

Yet, to the passersby at the live performance, Zhou Miao’s voice crooning “Love me, don’t go~” sounded more like a complaint that they had just abandoned him to listen to someone else sing.

Determined to salvage everyone’s initial impression of the song, Zhou Miao set aside his grudge against the rival band and began to sing earnestly.

“At a time like this, I’m still the same
The loneliness of the night easily brings sorrow
I dare not think too much
Because I am alone
The moonlight stretching my shadow ahead
Aimlessly wandering the cold streets
I have no news of you
Because I am thinking of you”
...

This was a gentle, soothing song tinged with a faint sadness. Hearing such a melody in the height of summer was like drinking a glass of cool, clear water—it left one feeling refreshingly serene.

The smooth and simple tune was easy to catch on. After Zhou Miao finished the first half, the audience was already humming along to the latter part: Love me, don’t go~

Behind Zhou Miao, Zhao Li sat quietly on the steps, cupping her face and listening intently. It was another new song she had never heard before, yet it was just as beautiful.

The longer she spent around Zhou Miao, the more she was struck by his talent. How could someone casually produce a song so exquisitely captivating? Would his inspiration ever run dry?

At that moment, she suddenly understood the doctor who had stolen the mind of a famous scientist—she too wished to pry open Zhou Miao’s head and see what made his brain different from hers.

When Zhou Miao finished the song, Zhao Li jumped up with a burst of enthusiasm, holding up her phone while bowing repeatedly in thanks. Her fervor was so genuine that it felt almost embarrassing not to reward him.

Zhou Miao looked up and noticed that the rival band opposite had vanished without a trace, making him shake his head with a smile.

“Hey young man, what was the name of that song just now? I tried to find it with music recognition but came up empty,” a middle-aged man asked curiously.

“This is called ‘Love Me, Don’t Go.’ It’s my original composition. It hasn’t been published yet, but it will be soon—probably in about a month or so, you’ll be able to find it,” Zhou Miao explained.

An original song! Impressive! The man gave Zhou Miao a thumbs-up. “Really good. Keep it up—I believe you’ll be famous!”

Zhou Miao chuckled, “Alright, I’ll take that as a good omen.”

To show his support, the man decisively scanned the code and tipped twenty yuan.

After sending off their benefactors with heartfelt thanks, by noon the two ceased performing. The sun had grown too harsh, so they decided to find a place to eat and escape the heat.

“We have 248.50 yuan, plus the initial hundred, so over three hundred now. What should we have for lunch?” Zhao Li asked, delighted.

“I’ll take you to the most famous hotel in the country,” Zhou Miao said as he led the way.

“The most famous hotel? Is four hundred enough? Be thrifty—we haven’t even saved enough for travel yet...” Zhao Li jogged after him, chattering on.

Ten minutes later, the two Ultramen stood before a small Sha County snack shop. Zhao Li was speechless—this was the most famous hotel in the country?

But, on second thought, calling it the most famous wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

They packed two big pork chop rice meals and escaped to a secluded corner of a nearby park. Seeing no one around, they removed their masks to eat.

“What shall we do this afternoon? Still perform at Wangfujing?” Zhao Li asked, her mouth full like a little hamster but still curious about their plans.

Zhou Miao shook his head. “Though we don’t have much money, it’s enough for us to set off. We’ll travel and perform along the way. Staying in Beijing to save up for all the travel expenses at once isn’t realistic.”

Street performances were notoriously unstable income-wise; a lucky day could bring three or four hundred yuan, but unlucky days might not even cover a meal.

“So how will we travel?” Zhao Li asked.

Zhou Miao checked tickets and routes on his phone. “The production team forbids us from taking high-speed trains, regular trains, or planes. For long distances, we can only take buses.”

After comparing ticket prices at various stations, Zhou Miao decided to head first to Shijiazhuang. The bus cost eighty yuan per person, leaving some money for lodging.

After eating, they rested briefly in the park, waiting for the sun’s peak heat to pass before boarding a bus to the station.

“Wow, I can’t even remember how many years it’s been since I last rode a bus,” Zhao Li sighed.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to ride buses so much soon you’ll get sick of it,” Zhou Miao replied.

Across from them, a little boy about three or four years old sat on his grandmother’s lap. Seeing the two Ultramen, his eyes lit up.

“Grandma, Ultraman! I want Ultraman!” the boy tugged at his grandmother’s clothes, whining.

Unable to resist the little grandson’s persistence, the grandmother sheepishly asked, “Young man, could your mask be played with by my grandson? Or maybe sell it to me? I can pay you.”

Zhou Miao touched his mask apologetically. “Sorry, ma’am. It’s not that I don’t want to give it; it’s just that someone threw acid on my face, leaving terrible scars. I’m afraid if I take off the mask, it might scare your grandson.”

Upon hearing this, the passengers in the bus looked at him with immense sympathy. Such a gentle young man, yet subjected to such cruelty—the acid attacker was truly inhuman!

Zhao Li beside him rolled her eyes silently. Does he lie without even blinking?

The grandmother felt a pang of guilt for bringing up such a painful topic inadvertently.

She noticed that Zhao Li next to Zhou Miao also wore a mask and felt even more sorrowful. “Was the young lady next to you also attacked with acid?”

Zhou Miao glanced at Zhao Li and said flatly, “No, she’s just unbearably ugly.”

“You!” Zhao Li was so angry she gritted her teeth and shot him a laser beam with a raised hand. “I’ll vaporize you, you bastard!”

The little boy suddenly perked up, “No, no, Ultraman doesn’t shoot lasers like that…”

“Bus station ahead. Passengers please take all personal belongings and exit through the rear door.”

Zhou Miao gave the little boy’s head a firm rub and, with Zhao Li, disembarked through the back.

The bus station was crowded, and the two Ultramen drew plenty of attention. Zhou Miao bought two tickets for the next bus to Shijiazhuang, departing in an hour.

The bus was sparsely filled, but the highway was heavily congested. By the time they arrived at Shijiazhuang bus station, it was already past eight in the evening.

They found a shabby little inn. With only a hundred yuan left, Zhou Miao could only afford a standard room with two beds.

The production team, filming discreetly all along, had not followed them but handed over several cameras for Zhou Miao to capture footage inside.

After entering the room, Zhou Miao filmed briefly before turning off the camera.

An awkward silence followed.

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