Chapter 113: A Conversation with the Ancient Heavenly King

At seven in the evening, the city’s streets were bustling with endless streams of cars. Many people on their way home turned on their car radios to listen to their favorite music channels.

A somewhat weathered voice came through the speakers. “Hello everyone, welcome to FM 106.8 Beijing Music Radio. I’m your old friend, Lin Jianxiang.”

Since retiring from singing in his fifties, the restless Lin Jianxiang had returned to his original profession before becoming a singer: a radio host. Every evening at seven sharp, he would go on air, keeping countless commuters company on their journey home.

“Tonight, we have a very big-name guest on the show. His second album sold over a million copies within just an hour of its release! Let’s welcome him to say hello,” Lin Jianxiang said smoothly, opening the show.

Inside the radio studio, Zhou Miao and Lin Jianxiang sat side by side, both wearing headphones. Zhou Miao greeted the listeners warmly, “Hello everyone, I’m Zhou Miao. It’s a pleasure to be here with you all.”

Zhou Miao, unexpectedly a guest on Lin Jianxiang’s radio show! Listeners tuning in were surprised and quickly turned up the volume, eager to hear what these two would discuss.

Lin Jianxiang chuckled, “Recently, many people on Weibo have been tagging me because last year I said Zhou Miao couldn’t create a better album than ‘Listen.’ But this year, Zhou Miao came out with another equally impressive album, ‘Time Intertwined.’ People want to hear my thoughts.”

“I’ve always been curious about Zhou Miao and wanted to have a good chat with him. So I took this opportunity to invite him to my show.”

“First, let me share my thoughts on the album ‘Time Intertwined.’ Although I’m almost sixty this year, my musical taste remains up to date with the trends. I like all ten songs on this album.”

“If I were to compare ‘Time Intertwined’ with ‘Listen,’ I wouldn’t say one is better than the other. ‘Listen’ shows more of Zhou Miao’s personal style, while ‘Time Intertwined’ has greater pop appeal. Zhou Miao, which one do you think is better?”

Zhou Miao pondered for a moment and replied, “In my heart, there’s no ranking between the two albums. But if I had to choose, I think my next album will be even better.”

“Ha ha, that’s good—confidence,” Lin Jianxiang laughed and continued, “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while: your songwriting style is very diverse—R&B, rock, hip-hop, folk, traditional Chinese styles—you cover so much. Have you ever thought that focusing deeply on one style might be better?”

“I have,” Zhou Miao said. “I’m still searching for the style that suits me best. The song ‘Flower Field Mistake’ on this album was an experiment: a fusion of Western R&B and Beijing opera. I want to express traditional Chinese culture through modern music in a fresh way.”

Lin Jianxiang looked a bit puzzled. “Do you mean something like the traditional Chinese style music?”

“Somewhat similar, but actually quite different. Traditional-style songs usually have ornate lyrics and beautiful imagery but are more niche because they borrow heavily from classical poetry, making them hard to understand.”

“What I pursue with Chinese-style music is more accessible. Simply put, it’s ancient poetry, culture, and melodies combined with new vocal techniques, arrangements, and concepts,” Zhou Miao explained.

Lin Jianxiang nodded in understanding. “Chinese-style music… I think someone tried that before but didn’t become popular. After all, no matter the style, the most important thing is that the songs sound good.”

Outside the studio, the director gave a signal, and Lin Jianxiang smoothly moved to the next segment. “Alright, it’s time for audience interaction. Listeners, if you have questions for me or Zhou Miao, please leave your comments. We’ll randomly select lucky users to answer.”

“Okay, this gentleman was quick. Let’s hear his question,” Lin Jianxiang said as he played the message.

“Brother Xiang, do you think Zhou Miao can become a king-level singer like you in the future?”

Lin Jianxiang’s expression turned playful. “That’s an interesting question, but honestly, I don’t know.”

“The so-called kings and queens of music are really products of their times. In our era, the title of king wasn’t worth much. People were called the ‘Four Heavenly Kings’ or ‘Three Heavenly Queens’ simply because they were very popular.”

“Think about it: when I became a king, how many works did I have? I recall releasing my fifth album then, with maybe seven or eight hit songs. That was a lot at the time.”

“Now look at Zhou Miao. Since his debut, he’s had dozens of hits. Our representative songs as kings and queens don’t add up to as many as his alone. But is anyone calling Zhou Miao a king? No!”

Lin Jianxiang sighed, “Times have changed. Back then, we called the most popular a ‘king,’ but now you call the hottest stars ‘top influencers.’”

Crossing one leg and looking at Zhou Miao, Lin Jianxiang said, “Actually, I think it’s better for you to answer this yourself. Zhou Miao, do you have confidence in becoming the next king?”

Zhou Miao smiled. “To be honest, becoming a king-level singer is my ultimate goal, but I don’t know if I’ll succeed. Like Brother Xiang said, times are different now. I’ll just do my best.”

Lin Jianxiang played a new message. “Brother Xiang retired from singing at fifty-six. Zhou Miao, how long do you plan to keep singing?”

Zhou Miao scratched his head. “I’ll probably retire earlier than Brother Xiang. I don’t plan to sing into my forties or fifties. The entertainment industry is always a young person’s stage. When I feel I’m no longer young or my music style doesn’t fit the times, I’ll step away. If I had to pick an exact age, maybe around thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five? What will you do with the rest of your time?” Lin Jianxiang asked.

Zhou Miao thought for a moment. “Maybe I’ll open a cat cafe, or like Liangzhu, build a house in the countryside, spend my days wandering, playing chess, and fishing. That kind of life sounds pretty good.”

Zhou Miao was naturally a laid-back person; if he could lie down, he wouldn’t sit. The fast pace of the entertainment world would surely drive him crazy after a few decades. Retiring at thirty-five was just right!

Lin Jianxiang was a bit speechless. “You’re so young but have an older mindset than me. I’ve planned to work at the radio until I’m sixty, then travel the world. People must never stay idle at home; if they do, their heart ages before their body.”

...

After the show, Lin Jianxiang invited Zhou Miao to enjoy an old-style Beijing hotpot dinner. Thanks to Zhou Miao’s appearance, the radio station’s audience broke a nearly three-year record for listeners that night.

They ate from nine o’clock until closing time. Lin Jianxiang admired this talented young man—though a bit headstrong, he was never overly flamboyant. Most importantly, Zhou Miao looked just as handsome as Lin Jianxiang did in his youth, making him feel as if he were looking at a younger version of himself.