That morning, Chu Zhi headed to the train station to pick up a few old friends.
"Brother Zheng, Brother Xu, Sister Chui, thank you for making this trip all the way out here."
The arrivals were Zheng Huo, Xu Ji, and Li Cui.
"Don't mention it. I've been meaning to see WOA for a long time," said Zheng Huo. "Over twenty years ago, I think I was even invited, but back then the festival wasn't really established. They didn't even provide accommodations, so I turned it down."
"Who would've thought," Xu Ji chuckled, "back then you couldn't be bothered, and now it's too prestigious to ignore."
WOA had been founded in the 1990s, only beginning to gain real fame around the turn of the millennium.
"It's not so much that it's out of reach," Zheng Huo waved his hand. "And look, here I am now."
"My singing days might be over," Xu Ji said in his gravelly voice, "but I can still handle a bass."
"I can take the drums for you, no problem," Li Cui added. "Do we have a rehearsal slot, or should we run through it once?"
Li Cui, known as "Sister Chui," had a style as bold as her nickname. She was the lead singer of the Chinese band "Bloodstain" and had been crowned Mainland Singer of the Year by Contemporary Song Magazine back in 1994.
Anyone familiar with what was on the charts in the 90s would understand the weight of that title. Calling her the Queen of Rock would not be an exaggeration.
"We practiced over video last night until midnight. That should be enough," Zheng Huo replied. "When you've been playing instruments for over a decade, the skills are in your bones. Besides, I doubt a music festival like this has much room for full rehearsals."
"Valem Town isn't that big," Chu Zhi nodded. "There's really no place to rehearse here."
He had originally wanted to invite the veteran Chen Aigui, but Chen had other commitments. This worked out perfectly—four people, just like Queen.
"Western countries have deeper roots in rock than Asia ever has," Li Cui said, then patted Chu Zhi on the shoulder. "But Jiu-yé, I still believe in you, our little rock prodigy."
"Thank you for the trust, Sister Chui. I'll do my best to live up to it." Chu Zhi took her suitcase and added, "Let's get to the hotel and drop off the luggage first."
Led by the self-styled Emperor Beast himself, they arrived at the Mercure Hotel about an hour later. The rooms had, of course, been booked in advance.
Metal festivals are at their best with live bands, so Chu Zhi had made some careful arrangements. Zheng Huo, the grand master of Chinese rock, would be on guitar; the Queen of Chinese rock, Li Cui, would be on drums; Xu Ji, one of the pioneers of the genre, would play bass; and Chu Zhi himself would take the role of lead vocalist. A temporary supergroup.
Sister Chui, always one for ceremony, gave their impromptu band a name: "Resurrection." It carried a double meaning—reviving the old guard and reigniting their passion.
They grabbed a simple lunch—there wasn't much in the way of good food anyway.
By three in the afternoon, a light drizzle had started. Out of the past ten years, WOA had seen rain in at least eight.
The ground quickly turned muddy, the misty rain blurring the view. The temperature dipped into the low teens, but nothing could dampen the crowd's energy. They shouted themselves hoarse, voices mixing—
"Phoenix Fire! Fire! Fire!"
"Rock will never die!"
"I'm here just to see Iced Earth!"
"ohhhh!"
"Tonight will be unforgettable!"
"Sail away! Sail away! Captain of Yang Fan Band, you must set sail!"
The barrage of exclamation marks alone could paint the picture. The atmosphere of any music festival is infectious, but a metal festival is something else entirely. The sheer wall of sound stoked the performers as well. People often say that hearing rock live is nothing like listening to it on CD, and it's true—not just as a brag about attending, but because the live energy transforms even off-notes and cracked vocals into something thrilling.
The festival had four main stages—Black Metal, Heavy Metal, Industrial Metal, and Progressive Metal—each with its own distinctive design. The Heavy Metal stage, for example, had frames and beams shaped like an iron cage, flanked on either side by jagged staircases that made it look like a steel beast crouched and ready to pounce.
Earlier, it was mentioned there were five stages. The small one in the southeast corner was for impatient audience members eager to try performing themselves.
Artists were not strictly confined to their labeled genres. A hardcore rock act could open on the Death Metal stage, and Progressive Metal was often considered a branch of Heavy Metal anyway.
The opening acts were four competent but lesser-known bands.
Out of the four, Chu Zhi especially enjoyed the live set from Torrent Slaughter, which leaned toward Glam Metal.
Coincidentally, the song he was about to perform later—"Bohemian Rhapsody"—was also Glam Rock, infused with streaks of symphonic and operatic rock.
"The style of Poison Opera House really hits me," Xu Ji remarked.
"These people must have given up on keeping their voices intact," Li Cui said.
She meant the audience. They were singing along at the top of their lungs, and if not for the high-quality sound system, they might have drowned out the band.
That old saying about how men remain boys until death applies here. Age didn't matter—people still did wildly youthful things. Zheng Huo blended right into the crowd, belting along.
Two of the four opening bands earned such deafening encore chants that they were allowed to play one more song.
When it came to music festivals, bands always played their signature songs. Performing a new release was not unheard of, but it was rare.
One after another, bands took the stage, each delivering impressive performances. Even those with similar styles managed to put on shows that felt different. The Blood Wave band, for example, went as far as splashing water at the audience mid-song.
They lugged two full buckets on stage. One was poured over themselves, the other flung into the crowd. They called it "baptism in a sea of blood."
From the waiting area, Chu Zhi watched and thought, "If they added some red dye to the water, it would really fit the theme."
It sounded absurd, yet in the feverish atmosphere of the festival, the audience loved it. To them, the water might as well have been holy spring water.
Just look at the tall white man in the front row, swaying like an overexcited husky tearing through a house.
Another band stepped onto the stage. Chu Zhi murmured under his breath, "Even after hearing death metal several times, I still don't get it."
The lyrics were... memorable, to say the least. Just a few minutes earlier, the vocalist had been singing:
🎵 My heart rots in my body, maggots pour from my mouth. Come, I will give you a chance at death. Step into the coffin... 🎵
By eight o'clock in the evening, the festival was still going strong. The phrase "three days and three nights of WOA" was no exaggeration.
Spotlights swept across the grounds, and the stage took on an even more electrifying presence under the glow of atmosphere and effect lighting.
From the crowd below came a chorus of shouts:
"Freeze Man! Freeze Man!"
"One Night to the Universe!" "We Defeated Him!" "London Nights!" "Respect Me!"
"I came all the way here just to see Freeze Man. I'm so moved I could cry!"
"Shaun! Shaun, look at me! Look!"
…
The moment the five members of Freeze Man walked on stage, the reaction was the most explosive so far. People were screaming the vocalist's name, shouting song titles, and holding up banners.
They were currently the top-selling rock band in the world, blending Britpop, heavy metal, indie, and grunge into their own unique style.
Tonight they opened with their global hit We Defeated Him, a 2016 smash that had racked up 1.3 billion views on YouTube, far beyond anything Chu Zhi had reached.
The crowd sang along, voices blending into one massive chorus. Fans spun in circles, venting their excitement, the atmosphere peaking to a fever pitch.
When the song ended, the encore calls were deafening. Freeze Man's stage presence was undeniable, and lead singer Jack Ray commanded the crowd effortlessly.
"Cough, cough... my throat's sore." Lao Qian had tagged along for the concert and shouted along until his voice hurt, too caught up in the moment to care.
"Jack Ray has a big forehead and a huge mouth. Not handsome at all, but on stage... he's magnetic," Lao Qian admitted.
"Jack Ray's a famous playboy. Plenty of female fans practically deliver themselves to his door," said Xiao Zhuzi, who had dragged his sickly self to the show as well.
"Moral values? Self-respect? Self-love? And... contact information? Where do those fit in?" Lao Qian muttered, watching Jack Ray. "Seems there are many kinds of charm in rock."
"You want his contact information?" Xiao Zhuzi turned to him with a sidelong glance.
"Kidding. I already have Bingbing," Lao Qian replied.
The next act was a seven-member band arranged by Adidas.
"Hey, Mr. Chu, right? I'm Leighton, lead singer of Seven Man Band. Nice to meet you." Before heading on stage, Leighton made a point to greet him.
Chu Zhi looked up. "Wow... that's bright". A head polished like a spotlight.
Apparently, Leighton used to have long hair, but last month he lost a bet over whose "manhood" was longer. As a penalty, he shaved every hair off his body. With his compact features and sharply protruding nose bone, Chu Zhi's first thought was, "He looks like a bowling ball with edges."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Leighton," Chu Zhi replied.
They exchanged polite yet distant words. Normally, Chinese rock bands in the waiting area attracted little attention. But since a well-known frontman like Leighton sought out Chu Zhi, the other singers started noticing him.
"Chu Zhi? I remember the name from the invitation list, but I thought he didn't make the cut?"
"Not sure. He doesn't look like a rock musician at all."
The drummer and keyboardist of the Sailing Band, both members of the WOA council, exchanged thoughts.
"I know him. Chu Zhi's a decent new rocker. I've heard his 'We. Will. Rock. You.'" said Donovan, lead singer of an Irish rock band who had once nominated Chu Zhi.
"Chu Zhi? Isn't he an actor?"
"Why can't an actor be a good rock singer?"
"Being both an actor and a rocker? I wouldn't expect much."
…
The culprit behind this confusion about Chu Zhi's identity, Higuchi Hanato, was crouched nearby, watching Leighton. If Chu Zhi lurked around like that, you could call it sneaky. For a Japanese like Hanato, the word was just "suspicious."
Hanato couldn't stand seeing Leighton chatting so politely. He wanted trouble. Why bother with subtlety? In his mind, Leighton had no reason to show face to an Asian celebrity.
When Chu Zhi and Leighton's short exchange ended, Leighton let out a soft, ambiguous chuckle and, as they brushed shoulders, spoke just loudly enough for only the two of them to hear:
"Chinese bands need to be strong."
As he passed, another member echoed it: "Be strong."
A third: "Stay strong, Chinese singer."
A fourth: "Don't blink. Be strong."
A fifth: "Don't look at yourself first."
Five of Seven Man Band repeated the phrase as they went by, each wearing an expression tinged with mockery. Their voices were so low no one else heard, but it was definitely not encouragement.
"Be strong? What's that supposed to mean?" Chu Zhi frowned.