I was once a shooting star across the night sky, shining brightly for a moment and then falling into the mud. Forty-two years later, the lights in the bar were dimmed, the guitar was broken, and what I swallowed together with the burning sensation of whiskey was a dream that had long since cooled down. I thought that the end of saving people on that rainy night was the final footnote of my miserable life.
When I opened my eyes, I became 19-year-old Lin Jin, a poor college student whose parents had died and who was dependent on his younger sister. The world is similar, but completely different - those melodies, words, and images that I once looked up to, chanted, and thought were immortal, have never existed here. This is an entertainment desert, popular with exquisite and empty canned music, and piled with pale and clichéd texts.
And I came here with the cultural treasures of the entire world in my previous life.
It seemed like a God-given second chance, a paper full of answers. But when I tried to sing the first line of a song that came from the depths of my soul, I discovered that the price of perfectly reproducing those classics was that my own memories, emotions, and life experiences from my previous life were quietly weathering like a sandcastle. I sang "Father", and the warm face of my father became blurred; I played the melody that accompanied me through the loneliest years, and the color of those years itself began to fade.
I use the ashes of "Wang Jinyan" to light the torch of "Lin Jin".
From the instant success of the campus music club to the quiet popularity of the independent platform; from the subtle confrontation with the proud genius boy Chen Hao, to the acquaintance of Shen Xinghe, a music craftsman who insists on purity; from protecting the immortal starlight in the eyes of his sister Lin Xiaoyu, to touching the industry rules and capital monsters that operate in this cold world...
