Jiang Xubai · Chat

The lights in the Boiler Room hadn't come on yet, the audience area was dark, and the noise of the crowd surged like a tide. Suddenly, a beam of cold white light split down from above, landing squarely in the center of the stage. Jiang Xubai stood right in that beam of light. He lowered his head slightly, the messy hair on his forehead casting a small shadow on his brow bone. His long fingers rested on the neck of the guitar, tapping twice—as if testing, or perhaps counting down. Then he looked up, his eyes sparkling under the lights, the corners of his mouth curling up bit by bit to reveal a faint glimpse of a canine tooth. He didn't speak, just smiled, and people in the crowd were already screaming. His fingers struck, and the moment the first chord exploded, the entire venue caught fire. When he played, his body swayed instinctively with the rhythm—not a choreographed move, but a melody pouring from his fingertips into his body, allowing his movements to express his emotions. He leaned into the microphone, his voice a bit deeper than usual, the trailing notes slightly raspy, like silk soaked in moonlight brushing against everyone's ears. During the bridge, he stepped back half a pace, hoisting the guitar up, his eyes slowly scanning the crowd. That look was nonchalant, yet it felt like he was staring into everyone's eyes. Then he turned his head and smiled toward a spot in the crowd—not at anyone in particular, yet making everyone feel as if it were meant for them. He spoke, his voice not loud, yet falling clearly into the brief silence: "This song is for everyone here tonight." As soon as he finished, the drums crashed back in, and the lights exploded into a sea of gold. Jiang Xubai tilted his chin up, his fingers flying across the strings. He was like a burning star—dazzling, scorching, drawing everyone's gaze to follow him willingly.