103: Chapter 103 Parental Warmth

The red walls of the Forbidden City cast long shadows in the afternoon sun, and a few ginkgo leaves that had drifted over from the moat floated on the surface of the Inner Jinshui River.

When they reached the Imperial Garden, his mother's legs were aching a bit, so they sat down on a bench next to Duixiushan.

His mother rubbed her knees and said she hadn't walked this much in a long time.

His father leaned back against the chair, looking up at the Taihu stones of Duixiushan.

Chen Mo took out his phone and opened Weibo.

Xiaoyu had already posted the photo of his back onto Weibo with the caption: "Ran into Chen Mo at the Forbidden City. He is accompanying his parents on a tour of the Forbidden City. We didn't disturb them much and only took a photo of his back."

In the comments section, someone wrote, "The back view at the Forbidden City; it seems like this is the first time I've seen Chen Mo when he isn't on stage."

Someone else said, "He is accompanying his parents on a tour of the Forbidden City; we should just quietly look at his back online."

Others had screenshotted and zoomed in on the shadow of Chen Mo's mother holding his father's arm, saying, "The most moving part of this photo isn't Chen Mo, but the sight of his parents walking side by side under the red walls—two ordinary people who raised an extraordinary son."

Some also said, "To be able to raise a son like this, they were never ordinary to begin with."

Chen Mo looked at these comments, didn't like or reply to any of them, and simply put his phone back in his pocket.

His father sat on the bench for a while, then suddenly stood up, walked over to Chen Mo's side, and pointed at the red wall opposite them.

"Over twenty years ago, your mother and I came to Beijing for a business trip, and we also took a photo in front of this wall. You weren't around then, and the photo is still in your mother's old photo album."

His mother turned her head from the side and said, with Chen Mo in between them: "I'll find it and show you when we get back."

After leaving the Forbidden City, Chen Mo took his parents to eat mutton hot pot, served in a copper pot over charcoal, with the mutton sliced as thin as paper and the sesame sauce seasoned just right.

His mother kept placing slices of cooked mutton into Chen Mo's bowl one by one; before he could even eat the ones he had cooked himself, his bowl was already piled high like a mountain.

After finishing his Erguotou, his father leaned back against the chair and said, "Even if this kid wins every trophy in the world, I'm still his dad."

That night, Chen Mo called Scott from his hotel room in Beijing.

It was morning in Los Angeles, and Scott had probably just arrived at the office; the faint sound of a coffee grinder could be heard in the background.

Chen Mo leaned against the window, looking at the night view of Beijing outside; the traffic on Changan Avenue looked like a glowing river, flowing from east to west.

"My dad drank too much and said a lot of things."

Scott's voice came through the receiver, carrying a hint of alertness from having just finished his first sip of coffee.

"What did he say?"

"He said he was proud of me. In the past, his colleagues used to mock him, but now no one does. When he said that, his eyes were red."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

Scott was not a person who would remain silent; he could always find something to say at any time, whether it was discussing contracts, marketing, or the budget for the next album, but this time he paused for a moment before he spoke.

"That is what you needed to hear. It's not about the Forbes cover, the Grammy Awards nomination, the American Music Awards, or the Apple event. What your dad said is heavier than all of those."

Chen Mo pulled the curtains halfway, the traffic on Changan Avenue still flowing outside, the taillights forming a long red line.

After hanging up the phone, he stood by the window for a while, then placed his phone on the nightstand.

There is a certain warmth to slowing down as well.

He posted on Instagram with a picture overlooking the night view of Changan Avenue from the hotel window.

The traffic was like a river of lights, and the entire city was like a glowing spiderweb spread out to the horizon, with every speck of light in it representing someone on their way home.

The caption consisted of only two words: "Beijing."

In less than half an hour, the top comment read: "He is walking with his parents in the Forbidden City, looking at the night view of Changan Avenue from his hotel window. Even a global superstar is just someone returning home when back in Beijing."

On October 20th, the Huawei launch event was held at the Shougang Industrial Heritage Park. The old blast furnace had been transformed into a giant LED screen, and the concrete skeletons of the cooling towers were dyed deep blue by the lights in the night, contrasting with the deep-sea color of the new P-series phone's back panel.

Chen Mo stepped out of a black Hongqi, wearing a dark gray Dior suit, no tie, with the top button of his shirt undone.

Yu was waiting for him backstage, wearing a dark blue suit with a new Huawei smartwatch on his left wrist, the same model as Chen Mo's but in a different color.

"Today's flow is simple: I'll finish talking about the product, then you go on stage and say a few words. Don't follow the script; just say what you want to say."

The backstage lounge had a floor-to-ceiling window facing the old blast furnace that had been converted into a screen.

The steel skeleton stood silently in the night, and before the cracks and rust were covered by the projection lights, it used to be a place that generations of Shougang workers passed by every day on their way to and from work.

When Chen Mo walked onto the stage, thousands of phones were raised at once. He didn't sing; he just stood in the spotlight in the center of the stage, facing thousands of tech reporters and Huawei partners.

"The first time I used a domestic phone was when I was an exchange student in Los Angeles during high school. I ordered a Huawei M7 online because it had a long battery life, and I didn't need to carry a power bank all day."

Someone in the audience laughed. He paused for a moment and continued: "Later, when Huawei asked me to be their spokesperson, I said yes, because I only speak well of things I've actually used."

(I have used both Huawei and Apple, and both have their merits.)

"After the last launch event in London, P8max sales were very good, especially among Europeans," Chen Mo smiled and said. "I met a taxi driver in France who said, 'Huawei'—this!"

Chen Mo gave a thumbs-up.

Applause flooded the audience. Yu was sitting in the front row, trying hard to suppress the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't help but smile.

After the launch event, Chen Mo left directly from the basement parking garage and did not go to the celebration banquet.

As the car drove along Changan Avenue, he leaned against the car window, watching the streetlights recede one by one, and then took out his phone to send a message to Yu.

"Old Yu, the blast furnace tonight was very cool. For the next launch event, you could consider setting the background for the product video at a similar industrial heritage site. The collision of old and new has more warmth than pure technological vibes."

Yu replied with a voice message in seconds, with the noise of the celebration banquet in the background.

"That's a great idea; I'll tell the creative team tomorrow. It's a pity you didn't go to the celebration banquet today; they opened a bottle of 95 Maotai."

Unfortunately, Chen Mo was destined not to have the luck to taste it, as he caught a flight to Shanghai that very night.

On the 21st, the fan meeting for the Anta "Epiphany" collaboration sneakers was set at Shimao Plaza on Nanjing Road Pedestrian Street.

The mall atrium was packed so tightly that not even water could pass through; over three thousand people were squeezed from the first floor to the fourth, the escalators were filled with young people holding light signs, security guards stood in a row behind the railings, and the sounds from their walkie-talkies rose and fell.

When Chen Mo entered from the side door, he was wearing the collaboration sneakers, which had a white upper, with the silhouette of the "Epiphany" cover printed on the tongue—

An empty theater, two thousand empty seats, and a single spotlight.

On the side was the word "dont stop" written by hand in marker; the handwriting wasn't neat, the vertical hooks were a bit crooked, but the brushwork was spot on.

The host was a young woman with a ponytail, speaking quickly with the trailing intonation of a Shanghai accent.

"Chen Mo, did you write 'dont stop' on these shoes yourself?"

Chen Mo took the microphone and said: "I wrote it; it might be a bit ugly, but the meaning is there."

Laughter and applause erupted from the whole venue simultaneously.

The host smiled and added, "It's not ugly."

During the interactive segment, there was a random selection; the seat numbers on the big screen scrolled rapidly before stopping on a teenage boy.

He was wearing a school uniform with a school badge printed on the chest, and the cuffs were a bit worn white. When he was led onto the stage by the staff, his steps were very small, his hands were shaking, and his voice was trembling too.

When the microphone was handed to him, he opened his mouth several times before he could make a sound.

"Chen Mo, I also want to study music, but my parents don't agree; they think there's no future in it. Our family's financial situation isn't great, and they want me to major in something more stable. I don't know what to do."

The whole venue went quiet; in the atrium of the mall with over three thousand people, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the central air conditioning blowing.