In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Over the next few days, Yang Guangming chose to stay in Los Angeles for a short rest.

The most important performance had already come to an end, but he was not in a hurry to return to China. Yan Pingsheng suggested that he stay a few more days, partly to observe the subsequent reaction of the North American market, and partly to selectively take on a few promotional engagements, while also having more in-depth discussions with Warner Music about future collaborations.

Yang Guangming thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. Now that they had officially debuted in North America and the live performance had exceeded expectations, it would be wise to continue this momentum.

Warner Music had already launched a series of promotional plans, and the market response was quite positive. As a partner, Sunshine clearly understood the importance of timely cooperation—it didn't need to do everything personally, but it still needed to personally appear for key announcements.

The streets of Beverly Hills were quieter than I had imagined. The November sun in Los Angeles was warm, and palm trees swayed gently in the breeze. The windows of upscale stores displayed the latest seasonal styles, and luxury villas were hidden behind lush greenery. Occasionally, a jogger would pass by, casting a polite but curious glance at him, who was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.

Someone recognized him.

Once, in a small café near Rodeo Drive, he was sitting on an outdoor seat reading a book when a blonde girl hesitantly approached him and asked in broken Chinese, "Excuse me... are you Yang Guangming? The singer who sang 'Night in Ulaanbaatar'?"

Yang Guangming looked up, took off his sunglasses, and nodded with a smile.

The girl instantly covered her mouth with excitement: "Oh my god! I've seen you perform on TV! That song was so beautiful! Can I take a picture with you?"

Yang Guangming readily agreed. The girl's hands were shaking as she took the photo, and she kept saying she wanted to send it to her older sister who was studying vocal music at the music academy—her sister had just bought Yang Guangming's album last week and had been playing it on repeat for several days.

Such little incidents happened from time to time. The enthusiasm of North American fans had a fresh sincerity; they would take the initiative to greet him and express their love, but rarely linger. Yang Guangming gradually grew to like this way of interacting—not too close, not too distant, just right.

Yan Pingsheng would bring the latest data to report every day.

"Young Master Ming, album sales have gone up again!" That afternoon, Yan Pingsheng waved the fax in his hand as soon as he entered the door. "Yesterday alone, we shipped 300,000 copies in North America! The cumulative sales have exceeded 1.8 million! This performance in North America was a great success!"

Yang Guangming looked up from his book on the sofa and nodded calmly: "How's the distribution channel development going?"

"Warner's distribution channels are all open. Our albums are now available in major record stores across the United States, and supermarket chains like Walmart and Target have also started stocking them. David said that they are in talks with the Canadian side, and the albums are expected to be fully available in the Canadian market next week."

Yan Pingsheng sat down opposite him and continued to look through the data sheet in his hand: "In addition, the data for 'Night in Ulaanbaatar' is still rising in all aspects. Radio play counts, request rates... all are steadily increasing. David said that it's only a little bit away from being number one on the Billboard charts, and it's very likely to break through this week."

Yang Guangming closed the book in his hand and looked out the window.

Outside the window was a small, neatly manicured lawn, and in the distance, rolling hills dotted with white villas. Sunlight streamed in, making everything bright and peaceful.

“Young Master Ming,” Yan Pingsheng asked tentatively, “several television stations have sent interview invitations, including ABC’s morning program and NBC’s late-night show… Do you think we should accept a few more?”

Yang Guangming shook his head: "President Yan, there's no need to appear in public too frequently. The few announcements that have already been confirmed are enough."

He got up from the sofa, walked to the window, put his hands in his pockets, and looked at the distant mountain scenery: "After all, I am not a European or American. As a singer from the East, maintaining a bit of mystery can actually stimulate the curiosity of the North American public. If I appear too frequently, the novelty will easily wear off."

Yan Pingsheng paused for a moment, pondered these words carefully, and gradually nodded: "That makes sense... Okay, then I'll decline."

Yang Guangming smiled and turned back: "However, we still need to attend the Warner meeting. We need to sit down and discuss the next steps."

Yan Pingsheng agreed and then took out a schedule: "Young Master Ming, the night after tomorrow, David said he wants to introduce you to some friends and has booked the Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills. Also, before leaving, Warner Music wants to finalize your tour plans for next year. They want to strike while the iron is hot and do a tour in several major cities in North America."

Yang Guangming pondered for a moment: "It's still early, so let's not think about the tour for now. I have a movie to shoot next year, so my schedule can't be too tight."

"Understood, I will communicate with them."

A week passed by in a quiet yet fulfilling rhythm.

Every morning, Yang Guangming would work out for an hour in the hotel gym before returning to his room to handle some work from back home. In the afternoon, he would either have a meeting with Warner or stroll alone through the streets of Beverly Hills, occasionally popping into a gallery or bookstore to while away an hour or two.

He enjoys this brief, undisturbed daily routine.

Like an ordinary person, I enjoy a moment of peace in an unfamiliar city.

On the night before his departure, David hosted a farewell dinner for Yang Guangming at an elegant Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills.

The restaurant is located on the top floor of an old building, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering stunning views of Los Angeles' dazzling nightscape. The lights, like scattered stars, blanket the city's skyline.

During the meal, David raised his glass with a solemn expression: "Mr. Yang Guangming, this glass is for you, and also for our pleasant cooperation."

Yang Guangming raised his glass and gently clinked it against his.

“Your performance was a great success.” David took a sip of red wine, his eyes still filled with emotion. “I will never forget the spectacle of that night. The audience’s reaction… to be honest, in all my years working at Warner, I have rarely seen such a passionate scene.”

Yan Pingsheng nodded in agreement: "Indeed, I was observing from backstage that night. To describe it as crazy would be an apt description."

David continued, “We at Warner are all proud of you. From top management to ordinary employees, everyone is talking about your music. Some people ask me how such a genius was discovered. I say, it wasn't me who discovered him, it was fate that brought us together.”

Yang Guangming laughed: "David, without Warner's channels and promotion, my music could not have entered the North American market so quickly."

“But we are just the driving force; what truly touches people’s hearts is your music itself,” David said earnestly. “The deep emotion in ‘Night in Ulaanbaatar,’ the vastness in ‘Wild Geese,’ and ‘At Least I Still Have You’... these are all gifts you have brought to the world.”

He put down his glass and leaned forward slightly: "Mr. Sunshine Ming, I look forward to the next collaboration. Warner's doors are always open for you."

Yang Guangming nodded, his tone gentle yet firm: "Definitely."

David suddenly remembered something, and a hint of excitement flashed in his eyes: "By the way, I have some good news to tell you in advance. The latest Billboard rankings will be announced tomorrow, and according to the data we have obtained in advance, 'Night of Ulaanbaatar' has a very good chance of taking the top spot."

He paused, then emphasized, "If that's true, you'll be the first Asian artist to achieve a Billboard number one hit. That's a historic moment."

Yang Guangming's face remained calm: "Then let's wait and see the results tomorrow."

He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine.

The liquor glided down my throat, leaving a slightly astringent taste and a sweet aftertaste.

Outside the window, the Los Angeles night was deep and vast.

The following morning, Yang Guangming and his group prepared to depart for Los Angeles International Airport.

In the hotel lobby, Yan Pingsheng was checking out, while Duan Yunfeng stood waiting at the door with his suitcase. Yang Guangming sat on the lobby sofa, flipping through a copy of that day's Los Angeles Times.

A small section of the newspaper's culture section featured a report titled: "A Voice from the East: The Yang Guangming Phenomenon is Taking Shape." The article briefly reviewed his performance, calling it "a stunning collision of Eastern and Western music."

Just as Yang Guangming was about to close the newspaper, Yan Pingsheng's phone suddenly rang.

The bell rang particularly crisply in the lobby.

Yan Pingsheng glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered, "Hello? David?"

After listening to a few words, his expression changed instantly—from initial calmness to incredulous surprise, and then to uncontrollable excitement.

Yang Guangming looked up at him. Yan Pingsheng hung up the phone and turned to walk towards him. Though it was only a few steps, his steps felt unsteady, as if he were walking on clouds.

“Young Master Ming…” His voice trembled.

Yang Guangming closed the newspaper and looked at him calmly: "Mr. Yan, please speak."

Yan Pingsheng took a deep breath, as if gathering all his strength, and then said, word by word, "The latest Billboard rankings are out."

He paused, his eyes gradually reddening: "Ulaanbaatar Nights, number one on Billboard. Champion."

The lobby fell silent for a moment.

Yang Guangming remained silent for a few seconds.

Billboard top-tier listing.

For the first time, an Asian singer has done so.

In the original timeline, even decades later, no Asian singer could achieve this honor. Differences between Eastern and Western cultures, language barriers, and market segmentation have prevented countless talented Asian musicians from reaching the Billboard charts.

And he did it in this time and space.

Yan Pingsheng continued reporting the data, his voice growing increasingly excited: "And 'Wild Geese' has risen to fourth place! 'At Least I Still Have You' is eighteenth, 'My Microphone' is twenty-fifth, and 'Happy Worship' is twenty-ninth. All five songs are in the top thirty! Young Master Ming, you've made history!"

Duan Yunfeng burst in through the door: "What? Number one on the billboard?" He stood there, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, until finally he could only slap his thigh hard, "Holy crap! Holy crap! Young Master Ming, you're amazing!"

David also made a special trip to the hotel, running all the way in. When he saw Yang Guangming, he excitedly opened his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Mr. Sunshine Ming! Congratulations!” David exclaimed repeatedly, his voice filled with joy. “You are the first Asian artist in Billboard history to achieve a number one single! This is a milestone! This is a miracle! The entire Warner Music team is celebrating!”

Yang Guangming gently patted his back and smiled, "Thank you everyone. You've all worked hard these past few days."

He looked at Yan Pingsheng, then at Duan Yunfeng, then at David.

Everyone's face was filled with genuine joy.

The group got into the car and drove to the airport.

Inside the car, Yan Pingsheng was still excitedly scrolling through messages on his phone: "Young Master Ming, with the internet, information spreads so fast now. This news has already spread throughout the country. I just received several text messages, all from domestic media outlets requesting interviews. The Beijing Entertainment News, Southern Metropolis Daily, Xinmin Evening News... they all want to interview you."

He looked up: "Do you think we should reply to a few companies?"

Yang Guangming shook his head: "Let's talk about it when we get back to China."

Yan Pingsheng nodded and continued flipping through the pages: "The people at the company said that the internet is in an uproar. The forums are full of posts discussing the Billboard chart-topping singles. Some people say you are the light of the Chinese music scene, some people say you are the representative of Asian music... Young Master Ming, this time it's really in an uproar."

Sunlight shines brightly as I look out the window.

The streetscape of Los Angeles rushed past the car window. Palm trees, billboards, gas stations, supermarkets... everything was both ordinary and unfamiliar.

He suddenly remembered his original self—back then, he was an ordinary person in another time and space, listening to Western hits on the Billboard charts, and occasionally wondering: When will Chinese songs be able to reach the top of this list?

Now, the dream has come true.

The plane took off and soared into the sky.

Yang Guangming leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

More than ten hours later, the plane landed at Beijing Capital International Airport.

Stepping off the plane, the familiar atmosphere of Beijing Capital International Airport (BJI) greeted me. November in BJI was already a bit chilly, but the sun was shining brightly, and the sky was a clean, pale blue.

At the exit, Zuo Xiaoqing and Chen Hong were both waiting.

Zuo Xiaoqing was wearing a thick down jacket and a scarf wrapped tightly around her, only her bright eyes showing. Seeing the sunlight come out, she immediately ran over and threw herself into his arms: "Brother Guangming! You're back!"

Yang Guangming hugged her and smiled, "You're back."

Zuo Xiaoqing looked up and scrutinized him closely: "You've lost weight! Didn't you eat properly in Los Angeles?"

"I've eaten, I eat every day." Yang Guangming ruffled her hair. "It's just that without you guys around, I don't enjoy any food."

Chen Hong walked over and looked at him quietly, her eyes full of smiles. Unlike Zuo Xiaoqing, she didn't rush over; she simply said softly, "Thank you for your hard work."

But there are a thousand words in this one sentence.

Yang Guangming put his arm around her shoulder and said gently, "It's not tiring. Let's go home."

The car drove towards the city center, towards that familiar courtyard house.

On the way, Zuo Xiaoqing excitedly kept asking, "Brother Guangming, how was the performance? Did you sing well? Were you nervous? How many people were in the audience?"

Yang Guangming answered each question patiently and thoroughly.

After hearing this, Zuo Xiaoqing's eyes lit up: "I knew it! Brother Guangming is the best!"

Chen Hong asked softly from the side, "Has this week's Billboard rankings come out yet?"

Yang Guangming nodded: "It's out. 'Night in Ulaanbaatar,' the first one."

Chen Hong paused for a moment, then smiled. The smile was faint, yet warm: "Congratulations, Guangming."

Zuo Xiaoqing was also stunned, then screamed: "Number one? Number one on the billboard! Brother Guangming, you're amazing!"

She was so excited that she squirmed in her seat, almost unbuckled her seatbelt: "Oh my god! It's number one on the bulletin board! My classmates are going to go crazy! I'll be walking on air!"

Yang Guangming put his arm around the two of them and smiled.

The car drove along Chang'an Avenue, through the old city with its red walls and green tiles, and finally stopped in front of that familiar courtyard house.

The trees in the yard still stand tall, their branches bare, appearing particularly upright in the winter sun.

Yang Guangming stood in the courtyard and took a deep breath.

I'm home. (End of Chapter)