My Years as a Copyist in Taiwan

Two weeks before the release, a mysterious breeze quietly swept through the top circles of Taipei's music scene.

More than a dozen kraft paper envelopes were delivered to the most influential producers and music critics in Taiwan, as well as top DJs on the prime-time slots of China Broadcasting Corporation and Taiwan Police Broadcasting Corporation.

The envelope contained no business card, no press release, only a black vinyl record with a white label. On the label inside the record, there was only one line of handwriting:

Nine future hits in Mandarin, created by an 18-year-old prodigy.

There wasn't even a signature.

These days, there are plenty of young people who call themselves geniuses, most of them just newcomers heavily promoted by some record company, playing some pretentious tricks. Some people casually stack the CDs aside, while others put them on the record player just to pass the time.

The moment the needle fell, the intro to "Love Trap" blared, and everyone froze.

The song has a catchy and energetic rhythm, and the chorus melody is so catchy it seems to be hooked right into your ears. It doesn't sound like something a newcomer would write.

After listening to one song, some people continued listening, while others subconsciously flipped through the album. They thought there would be at most one or two more decent songs to fill the gap, but from the gentle and melodious "Half Moon Serenade" to the sharp and lively "Sleepless Nights," from the lingering sorrow of "A Thousand Songs" to the profound and inspiring "How Much Wind and Rain," nine songs came one after another, covering styles such as upbeat songs, ballads, rock, and urban love songs. Each song could be a main track on its own.

After listening to the entire disc, the control room, the study, and the radio studio all fell silent.

That night, private phone calls from Taipei's music scene never stopped.

"Did you receive that blank disc? The one with all nine tracks is top-notch."

"Guess who wrote it? Was it Tony's newly accepted protégé? Or a top producer from Hong Kong using a different identity?"

"Eighteen years old? Nobody believes that. Could someone eighteen write with that deep-seated sense of desolation in 'A Game, A Dream'?"

No one could guess the answer. The industry is only so big, and you can count the number of creators with names on your fingers. No one could produce nine works of this caliber all at once, and keep them so well hidden, without letting a single word slip out.

The first to be unable to contain themselves were the radio DJs.

During a prime-time program on China Broadcasting Corporation's Pop Network, the host, unusually, didn't announce the song titles or artists. He simply smiled and said, "I recently received a very special CD. I'll play you a minute of the chorus. Friends, feel free to call in, and we can all chat about this CD."

As soon as the one-minute version of "Somewhere Winter" finished playing, the phone in the live broadcast room was immediately ringing off the hook.

When will the album be officially released? And who exactly is this mysterious gentleman hiding behind the songs?

The entertainment sections of the China Times and Minsheng Daily successively published columns on this topic.

The veteran music critic who wrote the article didn't mention any specific tracks, only stating: "The Chinese music scene may have yet another person who can rewrite the landscape. Nine songs, all of them potential hits. We're waiting for him to reveal his identity."

At this time, Luo Xiaozuo's "Zhi Hu Zhe Ye" had already emerged out of nowhere, and its phenomenal popularity proved his bold statement.

Zhao Wen's mysterious album allowed him to follow in the footsteps of his idol and become another genius who "rewrote the landscape".

The suspense spread like a pebble thrown into a lake, reaching out to professionals, students, and office workers – all those closest to the entertainment industry. They all learned that an incredibly awesome vinyl record was about to be released!

Every day, people walk into the record store on Chongqing South Road and ask, "When will that mysterious album be available?"

In university folk song clubs, some people try to transcribe melodies they've heard on the radio, and even folk song restaurants in Ximending have started having resident singers cover the snippets that have been heard.

Everyone was waiting. Waiting for this mysterious man, who was rarely seen, to reveal his true colors.

On April 28, 1982, readers across the island opened their newspapers to find the entertainment section entirely black with white text, devoid of any fancy design, containing only two lines of text—

Somewhere in Winter

Mr. Snail's debut solo vinyl album will be officially released on May 1st.

The entire Taipei music scene is in an uproar this time.

No one expected that the mysterious creator who produced nine legendary hit songs was actually Mr. Snail, who became a sensation in Taiwan with just two novels.

His book writing has already captivated students across the island, and his songwriting has even left industry leaders speechless.

The day before, I was guessing that he was a veteran producer or a senior figure in Hong Kong, but when the mystery was revealed, he turned out to be a writer.

However, this finally confirmed that Mr. Snail was indeed an eighteen-year-old genius, even though the voice in the single "Those Years" had led most people to conclude that he was around twenty years old.

That afternoon, the pre-order registration books at twelve designated record stores and major bookstores across Taiwan were already more than half full.

Students who were already huge fans of Mr. Snail immediately decided to save up their allowance to buy the CD. Listeners who had been captivated by the radio melody became even more curious and excited upon learning that it was a work by Mr. Snail.

No one knew that, in addition to the 12 official tracks printed on the album cover, there were two ultimate surprises hidden that were enough to shake up the music scene.

It will only be when the first batch of people who buy the CD see the special edition cover featuring the diva, her message, and the needle being moved to the very end that the excitement will explode.

Just as the Taipei music scene was in turmoil due to a mysterious vinyl record and Zhao Wen was quietly stirring up the entertainment industry across the island, the courtyard of Meiling Acupressure Center was filled with a gentle and languid everyday life.

The afternoon sun slanted into the courtyard, a warm breeze blew gently, and the shadows of the trees swayed.

Wenwen and Wenwen, two little girls, were squatting on the bluestone ground, playing around a chubby tabby kitten.

Zhao Wen's half-grown kitten showed no signs of stress about visiting. Since Wenwen often brought it over, Ah Hu treated the acupressure room as its own territory, running and jumping around, scrambling for fallen leaves, chasing the light and shadows – lively and affectionate.

The two little girls were amused by Ah Hu's adorable appearance, laughing and shouting. Ah Hu did a perfect running start and pounced, then hooked himself on the courtyard wall, looking incredibly cool.

A butterfly fluttered past its eyes, and suddenly Ah Hu moved, pouncing once more and climbing straight onto the wall, the butterfly clutched in its paws.

Wenwen was stunned by his handsome appearance and shouted, "Let go of that butterfly!" Then the little girl also climbed onto the wall...

"Jia Jinwen!" Aunt Xu shouted in alarm as she saw her daughter leap onto the wall. Everyone knows that when your parents call you by your full name, you're really likely to get a beating!

"Ah! Wenwen, don't move! Don't move!" Aunt Chen was also frightened and rushed to the wall, spreading her arms wide, afraid that the girl would be frightened and fall.

The courtyard wall wasn't high, less than two meters, but the girl was too small. If she fell, even if she knew some martial arts, she would be badly injured.

Seeing that Aunt Chen had hugged Wenwen, Aunt Xu looked around for a stick, intending to teach this flying witch a lesson.

"Alright, Biting, that's made of iron, put it down quickly, come here and I'll give you moxibustion..." Aunt Chen protected Wenwen and pulled Aunt Xu to lie down on the massage bed.