22: Chapter 22 First Appearance on TV

New York, Z100 Radio Station building.

The hallways in this place are so narrow that two people have to suck in their stomachs just to pass each other.

The air was filled with the mixed scent of cheap coffee and old carpet. This was Chen Mo's first time recording a show in a place like this.

Chen Mo sat in the lounge, holding a cup of hot chocolate that Daniel had specifically gone out to buy.

Daniel was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar, muttering, "Chen, this is your first time on an in-depth interview show. Dolan is one of the most sharp-tongued hosts in the country. He's definitely going to ask you some very personal questions, such as—"

"Your love life, or the dispute with your former company. Whatever you do, don't tell the truth; just dodge the questions."

"I know." Chen Mo took a sip of the hot chocolate; fortunately, it wasn't too sweet. "I'll say 'No comment,' or 'I'm grateful to my team.'"

Daniel was really doing his job as a nanny well.

"Not that kind of official jargon!" Daniel said, exasperated. "Be a bit more humorous, without losing decorum. For example, if he asks why you look so handsome, just say, 'Because I was born this way.'"

Chen Mo looked at his handsome face in the mirror and smiled helplessly. "Daniel, you make it sound like I'm going to a beauty pageant."

"Then just talk about music!" Daniel took a deep breath. "Remember, you don't need to please anyone, not even that jerk Dolan. You don't need to be afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid." Chen Mo put down the cup. "I'm just a little hot. The air conditioning in here is set too high."

In the broadcast room, as soon as the soundproof door closed, the noise outside instantly vanished.

Dolan was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and thick-rimmed glasses, looking like a retired football coach.

He sat behind the broadcast desk, twirling a pencil in his hand, his eyes scanning Chen Mo.

"Chen Mo." Dolan spoke, his voice low and magnetic. "Welcome to Z100. I know you're very busy right now, having just blown the roof off Radio City Music Hall, but I heard you didn't originally want to come to my little dump of a radio station?"

Chen Mo smiled, not taking the bait of the provocation, and said, "This place reminds me of the radio station at my school."

"Ha!" Dolan laughed and turned to the microphone. "Did you hear that? He said we're like a school radio station. This kid is quite honest."

The atmosphere eased a little.

"Let's talk about 'Stay'." Dolan got straight to the point. "This song is on repeat all over the country right now, and everyone is guessing, who is this song written for? A girlfriend? Or an ex-girlfriend?"

The air in the broadcast room stagnated slightly.

Chen Mo leaned back in his chair, his amber pupils fixed on the red indicator light in front of him.

"Neither," Chen Mo said calmly. "This song wasn't written for any one person. It was written for myself, and for the people who support me."

"For yourself?" Dolan raised an eyebrow. "Are you heartbroken?"

"No." Chen Mo shook his head, his tone light yet carrying a sense of strength. "I was writing about the version of myself that 'doesn't want to grow up' fighting with the version of myself that 'has to grow up.' Everyone has two souls: one that wants to stay in bed, and one that has to get up and fix a car."

Dolan paused for a moment, clearly not expecting this answer.

"Fix a car?" He repeated.

"Mr. Cooper, from my host family, is a mechanic. He told me that if a car is broken, you have to fix it. Life is the same—you can't just sit on the side of the road and cry because the car broke down; you have to pick up a wrench."

"But 'Stay' says that even if you pick up the wrench, you are still allowed to keep the right to cry in your heart."

It was quiet in the broadcast room for a few seconds.

Dolan put down the pencil, his expression becoming serious.

"So, are you using music to heal yourself?" Dolan asked, deliberating. "Like a psychological massage?"

"Not healing," Chen Mo corrected. "Music is my mirror. When I look at it, I know where I've gone crooked and where I haven't."

"So, are you crooked now?"

"I am." Chen Mo nodded without hesitation, making Dolan and the producer laugh. "I'm a bit carried away right now. You know, I'm so young and have achieved such great success, but last night in Times Square, I ran into Shawn."

"Shawn?" Dolan's eyes lit up. "That Canadian young heartthrob?"

"Yes. He's great," Chen Mo said. "Looking at him was like looking at myself a few months ago. We talked a lot, and then I told him, don't think about trying to please radio stations or winning awards. Just think about your mom listening, your dad listening, your friends listening. That's enough."

Dolan was silent for a moment, then suddenly sighed. "Do you know how many people want to hear you say that right now? Especially those teenagers, who are driven crazy by social media, feeling like they have to be perfect and popular."

"But you're telling them that it's okay not to be perfect."

"Because they're the ones buying your albums," Chen Mo shrugged. "As for those music critics, they aren't the ones paying your tuition."

Dolan laughed out loud. "Well said! Those music critics aren't paying your tuition! Chen Mo, you're quite interesting. Even though you look like a movie star, you talk like a philosopher, but you do things like a mechanic."

Chen Mo also laughed and said, "Mr. Cooper would be very happy if he heard you say that. Without their support, it would have been hard for me to be this successful."

"One last question." Dolan looked at Chen Mo, the scrutiny in his eyes replaced by a bit more respect. "There's a lyric in 'Stay': 'When everyone loves you, you have, to some extent, lost yourself.' You're so popular now, do you feel like you've lost yourself?"

Chen Mo looked at the microphone and was silent for a long time. In the broadcast room, there was only the white noise of the electricity.

"Sometimes," Chen Mo's voice was soft but clear. "When you suddenly become famous and the media promotes you everywhere, it's easy to get carried away, to become arrogant because of the quick success. That's why I rarely go on shows. I have to constantly remind myself that all that prosperity is for the symbol of 'Chen Mo'."

"So, are you fighting against that symbol?"

"No." Chen Mo raised his head, his eyes firm. "I thought about it for a long time and decided to coexist with that symbol. I use it to sing the things I want to say to more people."

"Just like now, through this radio station, telling those kids who feel like they aren't good enough—it's okay. I often feel like I'm not good enough, too, but I won't stop."

Dolan looked at Chen Mo. After a long while, he took off his headphones and gently clapped a few times.

"Chen Mo," Dolan said. "You are the most clear-headed 19-year-old kid I've ever met, and the deepest."

"Thank you," Chen Mo said. "But I think the hallways of Z100 have more depth than I do. They are so full of history."

Dolan was stunned for a moment, then laughed. "Then you'll have to take that up with the CEO."

The show ended, and the producer cut the signal.

Dolan walked over and gave Chen Mo a big hug.

"Kid, next time you come to New York, come find me directly," Dolan patted his back. "No need to go through the process; we'll just talk about music and talk about how to fix cars."

"Definitely," Chen Mo responded with a smile.

Walking out of the radio station building, the wind outside was still cold.

Daniel asked, "Chen! That was amazing! Dolan just told me backstage that you were the best interview guest he's ever had! He said you turned all that chicken soup for the soul into bone broth!"

"Bone broth?" Chen Mo frowned. "That stuff is greasy."

"I mean a metaphor! A metaphor!" Daniel explained. "The whole internet is retweeting that line of yours, 'Music critics won't pay your tuition'! And that line about 'writing songs for your parents'! Everyone is saying you're so real!"

Chen Mo took out his phone and scrolled through Twitter.

The number one trend was: #ChenMoZ100Interview# Trending.

The comments below were all flooding in:

[Listened to it and cried. So even big stars feel like they aren't good enough.]

[This is why I don't listen to music critics talking nonsense! Chen Mo is awesome!]

[There are still some good music critics out there.]

[Calling my parents tonight. Thanks, Chen Mo.]

Chen Mo looked at those comments, and the slight sense of emptiness caused by fame finally settled down.

He sent a message to The Cooper Home: [Mr. Cooper, next time you come to New York, I'll take you out for some good food. I'm not lying.]

A few seconds later, Martha replied with a voice message.

The background noise was George's loud voice, "Did you hear that? I was on the radio! The host said I'm a mechanic philosopher! Hahahaha!"

Then came Martha's gentle voice, "Chen, you did very well. We're going back to Pasadena; the sun is very warm lately."

"Let's go, Daniel," Chen Mo zipped up his down jacket. "Back to the hotel to pack up."