Chapter 124: The Next Zhou Miao?

At nine o’clock in the evening, Lin Ze finished the last report, sent it to his supervisor, and stood up to stretch his back. A deep, lingering exhaustion surged forth the moment the brief sense of release faded.

The office was empty save for him. He packed his laptop, flipped the light switch, and headed out, yet his mood remained heavy. The mere thought of repeating the same routine tomorrow made him let out a long, weary sigh. As a downtrodden office worker, his boss constantly spoke to him about "ideals," but his own greatest ideal was not having to work at all. Nine-to-nine every day, he would collapse into bed upon returning home, and the moment he opened his eyes, it was time to work again. There was no flavor left in his life. Others were living; he was merely existing.

Passing a glass wall, Lin Ze paused, meeting the gaze of the man in the reflection—hunched over, his expression vacant. He didn't know when the bright, spirited youth he once was had lost the light in his eyes. Was it the day he maxed out his credit card for rent? Or the day he saw his girlfriend hesitate to buy a two-hundred-yuan lipstick? Lin Ze couldn't quite remember; perhaps it was the day he realized he was nothing more than an ordinary, unremarkable person.

At 9:20, the subway station was quiet, the rush hour long over. The homeless man lay in his usual spot, motionless. Truth be told, Lin Ze felt a pang of envy. Perhaps having nothing at all brought a certain kind of freedom.

Everything in the station was as usual, except for a strange pair—a man and a woman wearing Ultraman masks—standing near a corner. The man carried a guitar, and an amplifier sat on the ground. They looked like street performers. Sensing their gaze, Lin Ze quickened his pace; he was so broke he was practically selling his soul—how could he afford to tip them?

As he walked, the sound of a guitar drifted behind him.

"That is the person I miss day and night, the one I love so deeply. How should I express it? Will she accept me? Perhaps I will never say those words to her. I am destined to wander the world; how can I be tethered?"

The man's low, gravelly voice echoed through the tunnel. The melody was like a cup of lukewarm water—tasteless at first sip, yet leaving a lingering sweetness. Lin Ze slowed his pace involuntarily. The lyrics were evocative, the kind he liked. He decided to listen a little longer.

"Youth is like a rushing river, gone and never returning, no time for a farewell. Only I remain, numb, devoid of the passion of my past. Watching those falling flowers wither at their most beautiful moment, who will remember that they once graced this world?"

The chorus struck like an arrow through his heart, freezing Lin Ze in place. He didn't turn back; he just stood there, listening quietly. Tears welled up in his eyes. Wasn't this song written about him? Reality had thoroughly shattered the youthful courage he once had to do the impossible. The dreams he had once fought for had become a joke he told himself. Now, when he drank deep into the night and glasses clinked together, all he heard was the sound of dreams breaking.

The music ceased. Lin Ze wiped his face, only to realize he was streaming with tears. He dried them with his sleeve, then turned around, his eyes red.

"May I ask what this song is called?"

The man in the Tiga mask replied, "Old Boys."

"Old Boys... it’s beautiful. Thank you." Lin Ze took out his phone to scan the payment code. He entered one hundred, but hesitated, changed it to fifty, and clicked pay.

After Lin Ze walked away, Zhao Li asked, "How many people have cried so far?"

"The eleventh," Zhou Miao replied.

This song, *Old Boys*, laid bare the youth, dreams, love, and friendship of the masses. The more one had been beaten down by society, the more deeply it resonated. In his past life, how many greasy, balding middle-aged men had cried like children upon hearing this song?

After ten o'clock, the subway traffic dwindled; there was no money to be made continuing, so they decided to find a hotel to rest. Today’s earnings broke their record—a staggering 549 yuan. For street performers who lived meal-to-meal, this was a fortune. In high spirits, Zhou Miao treated Zhao Li to a bowl of snail rice noodles, adding a pig’s trotter for good measure.

Well-fed, they strolled the streets after the rain had stopped, looking for an affordable hotel.

"Brother Miao, tell me, how many more songs do you have in your repertoire?" Zhao Li asked curiously.

Zhou Miao held up one finger.

Thinking that was too few, Zhao Li was skeptical. "Only one left?"

Zhou Miao nodded. "Yes, just a billion more."

Meanwhile, on major social media platforms, videos of the strange Ultraman duo were spreading like wildfire. Each video showed a different performance location—Wangfujing in Beijing, People’s Square in Shijiazhuang—and the latest ones were in subway stations in cities unknown. After watching their performances, countless netizens marveled that true masters were hidden among the common folk.

Most of their songs couldn't be searched for; they were clearly original. Yet, such a talented duo had been reduced to wandering the country as street performers. In comparison, the "little fresh meat" celebrities in the entertainment industry should be the ones out begging for food.

Because they wore Ultraman masks everywhere, netizens affectionately dubbed them the "Ultraman Siblings." Many even traveled thousands of miles to see them once they heard they were in Zhengzhou. Beyond the public, talent scouts from the entertainment industry were out in force. Based on the quality of the songs released online, this duo had the potential to be the next Zhou Miao! The bosses gave the scouts a death order: if you don't bring the Ultraman Siblings back, don't bother coming back yourself! They had been heartbroken to miss out on Zhou Miao years ago; if they missed another star of this caliber, they would be devastated.

Zhou Miao and Zhao Li were oblivious to all of this. After a day of traveling and performing, they were exhausted. They checked into a room, washed up, and fell straight to sleep—they had no energy for surfing the internet.

The next evening, when they appeared in the same subway tunnel, they found it packed with people.

Zhou Miao scratched his head in confusion. "What’s going on? Did a murder happen here?"

"Maybe something happened to the homeless man who sleeps here," Zhao Li guessed.

People are naturally gossips, and stars are no exception. The two squeezed into the crowd to watch the commotion. Zhao Li stood on her tiptoes and stretched her neck, but she couldn't see anything, jumping up and down in frustration. A young woman in front of her felt the movement, turned around, and was instantly confronted by an Ultraman mask.

"They're here!" the girl screamed in surprise.

Everyone turned around in an instant.

Caught!