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keith_ltd2022-01-14 10:10 pm
runawayballista) wrote in keith_ltd2022-01-14 10:10 pm
Live at the Mile High Club! Chapter 4
Fandom: BanG Dream!, Scum Villain
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: Just as Shang Qinghua secures Afterglow for an audition, Proud Immortal Demon Way backs out. Desperate to pull together a lineup in time for the next show, Shang Qinghua makes some questionable choices.
Notes: I like to get multimedia with this fic, which means sometimes I embed links to images & videos. The end notes in every chapter will have a link roundup to collect them for easy reference.
AO3 mirror
“We’re not playing,” Luo Binghe said adamantly.
“What?!” Shang Qinghua felt her stomach simultaneously drop with a whoosh and threaten to eject her breakfast. “You always play here! Even though you never meet your ticket quota! You can’t drop out on me now!”
She had kind of been counting on Proud Immortal Demon Way as the only band she wouldn’t have to beg to play here. They didn’t bring in a ton of customers, but they filled space pretty well, and when they could get their instruments all pointed in the same direction, they actually sounded pretty good. But here Luo Binghe was, flatly turning down the first formal offer to audition that the live house had ever extended to her band. It was unnerving how cold and disdainful a teenage girl could look. Aah, betrayal! Shang Qinghua was the one responsible for your band forming in the first place, show some gratitude!
“You said Shen Yuan-sama would be at the last show. She wasn’t.” Luo Binghe crossed her arms. “If she’s not here, then I’m not playing.”
“Okay, but she’ll be here next time for real!”
“Liar.” Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed. “There’s no point in playing here anymore if Shen Yuan-sama won’t be here to watch. We’ll find somewhere else to perform.”
No one else is going to take you, okay? Your band is a mess! You ran offstage in tears last time and broke your own stupid guitar!
She seemed to have acquired a new one in the interim, and she was gripping it so hard she was white-knuckled.
“What’s the big deal?” Shang Qinghua asked desperately, wringing her hands. She looked past Luo Binghe towards the rest of the band, all busy packing up their instruments after practice, but they were all obviously listening. The only one who didn’t occasionally look over to sneak a glance was Mobei Jun, her expression as stony as ever.
“Proud Immortal Demon Way has outgrown this stage,” Luo Binghe said coolly, lifting her chin. She really was way too tall for a high school girl! Shang Qinghua should be looking down at her teenaged patrons, not up! “If this place isn’t good enough for Shen Yuan-sama, it’s not good enough for us.”
Shang Qinghua would have laughed if this wasn’t an immediate threat to her ability to pay the rent. Don’t you read Peerless Cucumber’s blog? Nothing is actually good enough for her!
“It’s just one show, please! I’ll—” Shang Qinghua clutched at her stomach. She was feeling an ulcer coming on. “I’ll comp the rest of your ticket quota! Whatever! Just don’t bail on me here!”
But Luo Binghe just turned away with a little hmph and started for the lobby. The rest of the band trailed after her, and behind them, Shang Qinghua, babbling out any bribe that came to mind that wasn’t a cash handout.
“Okay, okay! One free studio session a week for the next month! All you have to do is audition!”
“Meiyin-senpai? Is that you?”
The owner of the new voice was one of another group of five students in the Mile High Club’s front lobby, the front doors swinging shut just behind them. A pink-haired girl with lively green eyes waved ecstatically at Proud Immortal Demon Way’s keyboardist, hopping away from her own group to say hellohi. Meiyin’s own eyes lit up and her mouth curved into a pleased smile.
“Himari! What are you doing here?”
“Us? We’re here for an audition, of course!” Himari unslung the bass case from her shoulder with a triumphant little turn. “Hey, don’t tell me—is this the band you’ve been playing with? So cool! Then you’re here for the audition too, right?”
“Ah, well, actually…” Meiyin smiled, but there was a trace of chagrin in her look as she glanced at Luo Binghe. Proud Immortal Demon Way’s vocalist was totally uninterested in Meiyin’s friend; instead, her gaze was fixed on one of the guitarists in tow. Just by the way she stood at the center of the band, arms crossed and expression stoic, it was obvious she was their lead singer. Shang Qinghua choked a little when she saw her.
Black hair, red eyes…that effortlessly cool disposition…a black and red ensemble to match that practically screamed garage band…that was exactly the coveted look Luo Binghe had been striving for all this time! She even had a red streak in her hair, a bona fide rock’n’roll look!
Shang Qinghua’s palms started to sweat. Today was already going way off-script—was she going to have to break up a battle of the bands in her own lobby? Knowing Luo Binghe, it wouldn’t be just a little catfight, either.
“Hii-chan~” The sleepy voice came from the other guitarist, a pale-haired girl who poked Himari in the shoulder and did not stop once she had Himari’s attention. “Friend of yours? How come we’ve never met her?”
“Moca! Cut it out!” Himari slapped her hand away. Undeterred, Moca continued poking. “Meiyin-senpai goes to another school, but she lives near my neighborhood! She’s the one who tells my fortune when my day really needs a boost. And her family runs a beauty parlor, so I can get a pedicure at the same time! It’s pretty much the perfect package! Actually, Meiyin-senpai, if you’re free later, could you…?”
Meiyin laughed lightly. “Of course, of course. It’ll be nice to catch up, too.”
“Is this because you got a bad horoscope today, Hii-chan?” Moca said, touching her chin with a sneaky grin. Himari glared at her.
“That magazine columnist doesn’t know a thing about Scorpios! And what do you know about horoscopes, anyway!” Himari huffed. “Anyway, Meiyin-senpai’s been telling me all about the band she joined a little while ago. I was kind of hoping we’d get to see them play…”
Meiyin gave Himari an affectionate pat on the head. “Mm, I’m sorry, Himari. Maybe another day. But it’d be nice to watch Afterglow perform. I think we should stay just a little longer, hm, Binghe?”
Luo Binghe didn’t answer or even look away, still staring intently at the black-haired guitarist. Moca and Meiyin followed her gaze.
“Ooh, looks like Ran’s got a new fan~”
The lead singer Ran, noticing the stare for the first time, gave Luo Binghe a puzzled look, but that cool rock star air didn’t falter. Luo Binghe looked away immediately, her own expression shuttered and cold. Shang Qinghua was starting to wonder if losing Proud Immortal Demon Way might be a blessing in disguise.
“We’ll watch,” Luo Binghe decided finally. Meiyin looked pleased, and flashed Himari a warm smile and a wink.
“Good luck, though I’m sure you don’t need it.” Eyes glittering, she turned her smile on Ran, who flushed slightly this time around. Meiyin chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you’ll knock them dead.”
Shang Qinghua, as the party about to be knocked dead, raised a hand. Yes, hello, there is an adult in the room here!
“Ah, hello, so you’re ready to get started? It’s Afterglow, right?”
The band seemed to notice her for the first time, and Himari greeted her with an enthusiastic bow. “That’s us! Thanks so much for inviting us to audition here!”
“Oh, you guys are totally the ones doing me a favor,” Shang Qinghua said with no trace of shame, waving Afterglow into the performance space. And then, with a tiny sigh to herself, Proud Immortal Demon Way. She really had no idea what Luo Binghe might do watching Afterglow’s audition, but she could guarantee a scene if Shang Qinghua decided to (try to) force them to leave.
Himari and Meiyin kept up the friendly chatter while Afterglow set up their equipment and ran a brief sound check. Yuka joined Shang Qinghua for the audition, leaning back against the drink bar with her arms crossed. Shang Qinghua, having never formally auditioned a band before, did the same.
Ran grabbed the mic, introduced the band, and they immediately plunged into a rush of drums and guitar. It was…a pretty incredible performance? It wasn’t that Hello, Happy World! had been any kind of slouch, it was just that they were so, uh, musically unique that it was hard to tell where they landed in the grand scheme of things. But Afterglow…with that powerful sound, this was a real rock band, in every sense of the word!
“Are you really sure you want to play here?” Shang Qinghua blurted out the second the final drum fill ended. Himari and Ran looked at each other in blank confusion. Yuka dug an elbow into Shang Qinghua’s side.
“Send us your setlists no later than 48 hours before the show. Rehearsal on Saturday starts at 3.”
Afterglow started striking their equipment with a little chorus of excitement. Luo Binghe’s eyes burned into the back of Ran’s head for a long moment before she abruptly turned and headed for the door without a word. Meiyin gave Himari an apologetic smile, promised to text her later, and hurried after her band.
Once the live house had cleared out, Yuka smacked Shang Qinghua on the shoulder with a glare. “When a band passes an audition, you don’t offer them an out!”
“Ah, hey, ow! I’m your boss, you know!”
“So start acting like it! What if they’d walked? They were the only ones who agreed to an audition!”
Shang Qinghua cowered away with a feeble effort of shielding herself from Yuka’s slaps. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you’re right! I definitely won’t do that again! Please just stop hitting me!”
Yuka huffed out a snort, but she stopped anyway and abandoned Shang Qinghua in favor of cleaning up the rest of the performance space. Rubbing her arm, Shang Qinghua contemplated the room at large. That was one band down and one band out…they just needed a few more bands to fill out the lineup. Alright, if she could book Afterglow, she could find a couple of opening acts!
The live house hustle didn’t slow down after that; it only picked up the pace, making the Saturday deadline feel somehow both closer and farther away. It might be a little easier to convince new bands to play now that Afterglow was slated in, but they were still horribly short on time. Despite the many yearning looks at her synths and a little bit (a lot) of plaintive whining to her empty apartment, she buckled down and used her spare time at home to keep researching bands, send out (hopefully only professionally desperate sounding) emails, and mock up flyers for distribution. She couldn’t afford to pay Yuka and the others overtime, so…
This was really sucking the life out of her creatively, she thought glumly as she dragged herself to the Mile High Club for another day of work. This life really didn’t suit her. She was sleeping like garbage, eating like garbage (more than usual) and, this afternoon in particular, feeling like garbage. Once upon a time, she’d mentally check out of this job the second she was out the door, and all her time at home (ah, she had so much more time at home before this all started!) was split comfortably between sleeping, anime, and churning out music in hours-long spurts of feverish creativity. And while her income had always been dependent on her output, it was wildly different now that she had so little time to spend on it. The crunch was real, and Shang Qinghua hated it.
Yuka was tidying up behind the counter when Shang Qinghua came in, and after a brief glance at her boss, set a water bottle down on the counter in front of her. Shang Qinghua wobbled over to the counter, her heart swelling. Yuka was never so nice or considerate to her! Going so far as to offer her boss a fresh bottle of water first thing in the morning (afternoon)...was this what respect felt like?!
“You look like shit,” Yuka said, immediately popping the little bubble of hope, but in a tone of voice that suggested she might be slightly concerned about it.
Shang Qinghua caught her reflection in the window. Ah…yeah, she really did look like a hot mess right now. Alarmingly so, apparently. The bun she’d hurriedly twisted her hair into on her way out the door had already come half-unraveled, and she seemed to have missed an entire section on the right side somehow. She pulled it out and tried to finger comb her hair into place, gave up immediately, and settled for another half-assed bun. Maybe…she should have showered today?
“Any auditions today?” Yuka asked, and it was as though the concern had never been there at all. Maybe for the best. Shang Qinghua thought that maybe Yuka’s total lack of respect for her employer was what kept her sharp, so it didn’t seem worth changing. She’d take every little sliver of productivity they could get right now.
“No,” Shang Qinghua sighed. “A maybe for tomorrow.”
“We’re starting to cut it kind of close, you know.”
“I knowww.” Another sigh, this one more like a whine. “I still can’t believe Proud Immortal Demon Way backed out like that. They wouldn’t even be a band without this place! And we wouldn’t be down an act. I think word about the last show finally got around, too, because some of those emails bounced back with a no almost immediately. It was uncanny.”
“You’re not still telling people Shen Yuan’s going to be here, are you?”
“No! I mean, not as a selling point, anyway!” Shang Qinghua reflexively cringed away from Yuka’s incredulous look. “Ah, don’t hit me! She actually promised this time, okay! She’ll really be here!”
“Did she say she’d be here today?”
Shang Qinghua blinked, and followed Yuka’s bemused gaze behind her. The doors swung quietly shut as Shen Yuan stepped inside, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses with the light touch of a finger. She looked as cool as ever—her expression was, anyway. Maybe the folding fan and high-waisted maxi skirt combo did it for the music blogger crowd, but as Shang Qinghua watched her adjust the collar of her cardigan—it was August! Who needed a knit sweater in this weather!—when combined with the years of vitriol and hot-and-cold reviews from her, Shang Qinghua’s primary impression of Shen Yuan was that of a nicely dressed-up basement dweller. Pot, kettle, yes, but Shang Qinghua didn’t have any illusions about herself, okay!
A prolonged “ah” was all Shang Qinghua managed for a moment as her two fried brain cells furiously rubbed against one another. They came to life with a crackle, and Shang Qinghua snapped her fingers.
“Aaah, hey! It’s you! You came!” She paused, hanging awkwardly. The show was still a little less than a week away. “What’s up, did you need something, or…?”
Shen Yuan blinked at her, then tilted her head, chin lifting slightly. It only seemed to amplify the ‘looking down at you’ effect she already had on Shang Qinghua, at her height. “I seem to recall you promising something about free drinks.”
“Oh, uh—you mean, like, now?”
Shang Qinghua had really meant free drinks at shows, but here she was on a Sunday afternoon, with…a messenger bag that looked like it might have a laptop in it? Hold up, was she here to work while she mooched off of Shang Qinghua’s (desperate) good will? This isn’t a café, okay!
Shen Yuan’s eyebrows lifted expectantly. Shang Qinghua slapped a smile over her face.
“I mean—yes, yeah, come on in! Totally! There’s some seating right this way…”
She waved Shen Yuan over towards the set of small tables and chairs just outside the performance space. Yuka’s eyes widened dangerously, and she mouthed what the fuck to Shang Qinghua, who just threw up her hands with a pleading look.
“So, before you ask, we still don’t have shochu,” Shang Qinghua said. Up went those little eyebrows on Shen Yuan’s forehead again.
“It’s not even one o’clock on a Sunday,” she said. “I’ll just have a coffee, thanks.”
“Sure, sure. You want anything to eat with that?”
Wait, why did she say that! She was already giving this lady enough stuff for free! But Shen Yuan declined, and Shang Qinghua trudged to the drink bar to get the lady her coffee.
A hand came down hard in a chop on the back of her neck while she was standing over the fridge, and immediately smacked her forehead against the freezer door.
“Ow—fuck, hey!”
“What are you doing?” Yuka demanded. “Is this place not hemorrhaging money fast enough for you? You want to start giving free studio time now too?”
Shang Qinghua, who had offered exactly that to Luo Binghe, said, “No! Of course not! Listen—put that hand down, okay, I am your boss, you know!”
She hadn’t actually expected that to work, but Yuka lowered her hand with a begrudging roll of her eyes. Shang Qinghua grabbed a cold can of coffee and pressed it to the back of her neck.
“Before you go and get all madder, listen! I promised her free drinks at shows. But—she’s already here, right? And if word gets out that Peerless Cucumber hangs out at the Mile High Club in her spare time, that can only improve our reputation! Which is pretty bad right now!”
“God,” Yuka said, “that is such a stupid handle.”
“So stupid,” agreed the asshole who released music under the name Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. “But popular! She’s so popular and I really don’t get why, but the bands like her more than me, so we need her here!”
“Nobody really likes you,” Yuka said. Shang Qinghua ignored her.
“Yuka.” She grasped her floor manager by the shoulders and looked at her dead in the face. Yuka’s gaze slid to one of Shang Qinghua’s hands, the corner of her mouth turned down in displeasure. “I know you’ve never respected me as your boss—”
“I never respected you as a coworker, either.”
“—But you have to believe me that I’m thinking of the live house first and foremost here! Whatever you think of me, I really don’t want this place to close down, and I’m doing everything I can to keep the lights on!”
“Because it’ll lead to your financial ruin if you don’t?”
“Yes! I mean, no! Well, yes and—” Shang Qinghua thought about what Marina had said, about the flourishing music scene here in Tokyo and the role that even just one live house played in that scene. Her grip on Yuka slackened. “I actually do care about the music, you know? I like seeing people up on that stage. The energy in the room when the crowd and the band are in sync—I know you care about that too, or you wouldn’t still be here! Right?! So please, I’m asking you, okay, I’m begging you…give Shen Yuan whatever she wants if it keeps her here!”
Yuka peeled Shang Qinghua’s fingers from her arms. “Okay. Fine. Just let go of me. Ugh, how do you have such a strong grip?”
Shang Qinghua opened her mouth. Yuka swatted her shoulder.
“Go bring that coffee to your celeb crush already so you can get some actual work done.”
“Not a crush! Not even close! In fact, she’s—”
But Yuka was already walking away with clear purpose. Rubbing the back of her neck, Shang Qinghua grabbed a second can of coffee for herself before heading back towards Shen Yuan.
As Shang Qinghua expected, she’d set up shop with her laptop at one of the tables, and she was pulling…what looked like a meat bun from a convenience store from her bag?
So Shen Yuan was the kind of person who brought outside food to a place that sold snacks! And to a place where she was already drinking for free…it took guts, okay, Shang Qinghua had to admit that! But she still felt kind of taken advantage of!
“Coffee for you,” she said, setting a can down on the table. Shen Yuan, who appeared to have earbuds in and already settled into work mode, gave Shang Qinghua a nod and a little smile that disappeared from her face as soon as she turned her gaze to her laptop screen. It was a clear dismissal.
The very least you can do when someone gives you free drinks is open your mouth and properly say thank you, okay!
Shang Qinghua’s afternoon was consumed largely by phone calls, emails, and a lot of sweating over invoices, leaving little time to check up on Shen Yuan. Which was fine! She didn’t need Shen Yuan here to hang out with her, just to be seen. And she didn’t need to do any checking, really, because Shen Yuan didn’t move from that spot for hours, apparently absorbed in her work. The only other time she actually spoke to Shang Qinghua was to request a second can of coffee.
It occurred to Shang Qinghua in the middle of a very terse phone conversation with the accountant at the cleaning company that she really ought to be leveraging a little more out of this than Shen Yuan just sitting there like extremely Online lawn decor. The lady had a serious social media following; they should be using that! Surely she could wheedle her way into convincing Shen Yuan to signal boost the show, give the Mile High Club a little press. The second Shang Qinghua had begged off the phone with a slurry of apologies and promises to send a check that didn’t bounce, she bounded out from the office into the lobby.
“Hey, so, I was thinking, Shen…Yuan?”
The seating area was empty save for an empty can of coffee. Shang Qinghua let out a little breath, deflated. Not so much as a goodbye! Yuka paused in the doorway to the rehearsal spaces and said, “Oh, yeah. You just missed her.”
Shang Qinghua wasn’t the only one, apparently. Standing just past Yuka, emerging from rehearsal with guitar in hand, was Luo Binghe. Her bright red eyes were fixed on the doors Shen Yuan had just walked through, burning bright. Shang Qinghua took a tiny involuntary step backward. Yuka brushed past Luo Binghe, who barely seemed to notice.
Shang Qinghua had only just sat back down at her desk when a whole-ass guitar was dropped onto it in front of her, making her jump. Luo Binghe was staring down at her with the kind of single-minded intensity usually reserved for bloodlust. Shang Qinghua’s stomach did an uncomfortable, wet flop.
“Okay, seriously, you cannot keep breaking your guitars in my—”
“We want to audition for the show.”
Right. Of course. Luo Binghe was all teen tantrums over being invited to audition at a live house she deemed beneath her station, but now the object of her obsession had been seen leaving the building. Shang Qinghua sat back in her chair with her arms crossed, trying to look like someone who owned a business that wasn’t failing.
“Oh? I thought you’d outgrown this lowly stage, huh?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees. “You said Shen Yuan-sama would be at the next show. If that really is true…then let us audition.”
“You know, I already offered you an audition,” Shang Qinghua said, “and you turned it down. You called me a liar, even. That hurts, you know! I’ve always rooted for you guys!”
The ferocity of Luo Binghe’s returning glare was enough to make Shang Qinghua shrink back in her chair. Just then, the sense memory of Yuka slapping her over and over was incredibly strong.
“Okay, okay, yes, I’m sorry, you can audition! Please just pick up your guitar and stop throwing it around, you’re gonna take somebody’s arm off!”
Luo Binghe picked her guitar off the desk with one hand and slung it back over her shoulder. “We’ll audition tomorrow,” she said, and left. Shang Qinghua leaned forward on her desk and rubbed her face. This was…a win, right?
Proud Immortal Demon Way’s audition didn’t blow Shang Qinghua away the way Afterglow’s had, but they didn’t have to. Shang Qinghua was always going to give them the spot anyway. She really, really didn’t have time to scout an extra band when the show was only a few days away.
Luo Binghe seemed pleased when Shang Qinghua formally invited them to play, a spark of excitement in her eyes. Six Balls and Sha Hualing high fived each other with such enthusiasm that they toppled one of the hi-hats. Meiyin was the only one to actually thank Shang Qinghua for the opportunity, and Mobei Jun…had pretty much the same stoic expression as ever.
That was all well and fine, and Shang Qinghua was thrilled, she really was! But the concert was really starting to loom on the horizon. The other band that had tentatively agreed to an audition backed out at the last minute, having gotten an audition at some other, better venue. Ah, the Shen Yuan appeal wasn’t bulletproof, it seemed. Shang Qinghua was getting so, so sick of answering emails, and whenever her cellphone rang, she had to resist the urge to throw it out the window. Being a small business owner really sucked, okay!
And then there was the other half of her life, the one that belonged to Airplane Shooting Through the Sky. She felt kind of guilty at how neglected her own music had been lately. Not for lack of trying, but still…she was lucky she had another buffer track to toss out this week, but she was going to have to get down to music production real soon if she didn’t want to lose any more subscribers.
On Thursday night, feeling about sixty percent defeated, Shang Qinghua buried her phone under a pile of dirty laundry and cracked open her laptop. She couldn’t afford to go out tonight, but looking at positive comments to stroke her ego was free! Whatever Peerless Cucumber’s blog said, Airplane still had a sizable fanbase, and there were people out there who really enjoyed her music. It was a nice reminder when she’d been spending all of her time busting her ass to showcase other musicians. Shang Qinghua kicked off her pants, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and crawled onto her desk chair.
Oh, jeez, here was the true mark of how busy she’d been: she had a ton of unread comments on a number of posts, plus a stack of social media notifications she’d barely had time to notice. Shang Qinghua pored through them hungrily, batting aside the negative commentary and soaking in all the praise. Aw, she even had a few messages from some of her personal favorite fans, a starry-eyed bunch of girls with matching avatars who claimed Airplane as one of their inspirations. They’d been proclaiming their interest in music for about as long as they’d been subscribers. It was pretty heartwarming, actually. Shang Qinghua’s chest swelled just a little bit.
Idly curious, Shang Qinghua clicked through to their band’s SoundCloud and had a little chuckle at their name. Moon Dew…it was kind of a silly name for a band, but it was a clear reference to one of Airplane’s more popular music videos, a song about a fantastical world of botany. Granted, it was really popular because she’d managed to make something look nice; the song, not so highly rated. Peerless Cucumber had condemned the lyrics as “rambling drivel, even for Airplane”.
But the band…wasn’t half bad, actually? They sounded new and awkward, their sound still figuring out how to fit together, but she thought their songwriting was pretty solid for a new band. It was structurally sound, just in need of some refinement. Shang Qinghua listened to their most streamed song (around 300 hits) a second time and found herself nodding along. And hey, according to their Twitter profile (53 followers), they were local.
Shang Qinghua rubbed sweaty palms on her thighs as an idea simmered to the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a good idea. Mixing Airplane’s online presence with her real life was a dangerous prospect. She kept those separate for a reason, and right now reason number one was Shen Yuan. This could get very sticky very quickly.
But she also really, really needed a another band to play in two days.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and went to close her laptop. It was late, they probably wouldn’t see it until tomorrow, and it wasn’t even remotely a sure thing. Better to just sleep on it instead of staring at her laptop until 3am.
A notification popped up.
That last was total bullshit, but Shang Qinghua had to keep things separate somehow. The fan thanked her with a babble of emoticons, promising to email right away, and Shang Qinghua closed her laptop and let out a long, slow breath. For better or for worse, she had a solid maybe on an audition tomorrow. All she had to do was keep things from falling apart until Saturday.
End notes: Afterglow is a really good band & you should give them a listen
i also made a ~music mood board~ for proud immortal demon way the band in case you're curious about luo binghe & co's sound
link roundup:
Afterglow viz ref
That Is How I Roll video
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: Just as Shang Qinghua secures Afterglow for an audition, Proud Immortal Demon Way backs out. Desperate to pull together a lineup in time for the next show, Shang Qinghua makes some questionable choices.
Notes: I like to get multimedia with this fic, which means sometimes I embed links to images & videos. The end notes in every chapter will have a link roundup to collect them for easy reference.
AO3 mirror
“We’re not playing,” Luo Binghe said adamantly.
“What?!” Shang Qinghua felt her stomach simultaneously drop with a whoosh and threaten to eject her breakfast. “You always play here! Even though you never meet your ticket quota! You can’t drop out on me now!”
She had kind of been counting on Proud Immortal Demon Way as the only band she wouldn’t have to beg to play here. They didn’t bring in a ton of customers, but they filled space pretty well, and when they could get their instruments all pointed in the same direction, they actually sounded pretty good. But here Luo Binghe was, flatly turning down the first formal offer to audition that the live house had ever extended to her band. It was unnerving how cold and disdainful a teenage girl could look. Aah, betrayal! Shang Qinghua was the one responsible for your band forming in the first place, show some gratitude!
“You said Shen Yuan-sama would be at the last show. She wasn’t.” Luo Binghe crossed her arms. “If she’s not here, then I’m not playing.”
“Okay, but she’ll be here next time for real!”
“Liar.” Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed. “There’s no point in playing here anymore if Shen Yuan-sama won’t be here to watch. We’ll find somewhere else to perform.”
No one else is going to take you, okay? Your band is a mess! You ran offstage in tears last time and broke your own stupid guitar!
She seemed to have acquired a new one in the interim, and she was gripping it so hard she was white-knuckled.
“What’s the big deal?” Shang Qinghua asked desperately, wringing her hands. She looked past Luo Binghe towards the rest of the band, all busy packing up their instruments after practice, but they were all obviously listening. The only one who didn’t occasionally look over to sneak a glance was Mobei Jun, her expression as stony as ever.
“Proud Immortal Demon Way has outgrown this stage,” Luo Binghe said coolly, lifting her chin. She really was way too tall for a high school girl! Shang Qinghua should be looking down at her teenaged patrons, not up! “If this place isn’t good enough for Shen Yuan-sama, it’s not good enough for us.”
Shang Qinghua would have laughed if this wasn’t an immediate threat to her ability to pay the rent. Don’t you read Peerless Cucumber’s blog? Nothing is actually good enough for her!
“It’s just one show, please! I’ll—” Shang Qinghua clutched at her stomach. She was feeling an ulcer coming on. “I’ll comp the rest of your ticket quota! Whatever! Just don’t bail on me here!”
But Luo Binghe just turned away with a little hmph and started for the lobby. The rest of the band trailed after her, and behind them, Shang Qinghua, babbling out any bribe that came to mind that wasn’t a cash handout.
“Okay, okay! One free studio session a week for the next month! All you have to do is audition!”
“Meiyin-senpai? Is that you?”
The owner of the new voice was one of another group of five students in the Mile High Club’s front lobby, the front doors swinging shut just behind them. A pink-haired girl with lively green eyes waved ecstatically at Proud Immortal Demon Way’s keyboardist, hopping away from her own group to say hellohi. Meiyin’s own eyes lit up and her mouth curved into a pleased smile.
“Himari! What are you doing here?”
“Us? We’re here for an audition, of course!” Himari unslung the bass case from her shoulder with a triumphant little turn. “Hey, don’t tell me—is this the band you’ve been playing with? So cool! Then you’re here for the audition too, right?”
“Ah, well, actually…” Meiyin smiled, but there was a trace of chagrin in her look as she glanced at Luo Binghe. Proud Immortal Demon Way’s vocalist was totally uninterested in Meiyin’s friend; instead, her gaze was fixed on one of the guitarists in tow. Just by the way she stood at the center of the band, arms crossed and expression stoic, it was obvious she was their lead singer. Shang Qinghua choked a little when she saw her.
Black hair, red eyes…that effortlessly cool disposition…a black and red ensemble to match that practically screamed garage band…that was exactly the coveted look Luo Binghe had been striving for all this time! She even had a red streak in her hair, a bona fide rock’n’roll look!
Shang Qinghua’s palms started to sweat. Today was already going way off-script—was she going to have to break up a battle of the bands in her own lobby? Knowing Luo Binghe, it wouldn’t be just a little catfight, either.
“Hii-chan~” The sleepy voice came from the other guitarist, a pale-haired girl who poked Himari in the shoulder and did not stop once she had Himari’s attention. “Friend of yours? How come we’ve never met her?”
“Moca! Cut it out!” Himari slapped her hand away. Undeterred, Moca continued poking. “Meiyin-senpai goes to another school, but she lives near my neighborhood! She’s the one who tells my fortune when my day really needs a boost. And her family runs a beauty parlor, so I can get a pedicure at the same time! It’s pretty much the perfect package! Actually, Meiyin-senpai, if you’re free later, could you…?”
Meiyin laughed lightly. “Of course, of course. It’ll be nice to catch up, too.”
“Is this because you got a bad horoscope today, Hii-chan?” Moca said, touching her chin with a sneaky grin. Himari glared at her.
“That magazine columnist doesn’t know a thing about Scorpios! And what do you know about horoscopes, anyway!” Himari huffed. “Anyway, Meiyin-senpai’s been telling me all about the band she joined a little while ago. I was kind of hoping we’d get to see them play…”
Meiyin gave Himari an affectionate pat on the head. “Mm, I’m sorry, Himari. Maybe another day. But it’d be nice to watch Afterglow perform. I think we should stay just a little longer, hm, Binghe?”
Luo Binghe didn’t answer or even look away, still staring intently at the black-haired guitarist. Moca and Meiyin followed her gaze.
“Ooh, looks like Ran’s got a new fan~”
The lead singer Ran, noticing the stare for the first time, gave Luo Binghe a puzzled look, but that cool rock star air didn’t falter. Luo Binghe looked away immediately, her own expression shuttered and cold. Shang Qinghua was starting to wonder if losing Proud Immortal Demon Way might be a blessing in disguise.
“We’ll watch,” Luo Binghe decided finally. Meiyin looked pleased, and flashed Himari a warm smile and a wink.
“Good luck, though I’m sure you don’t need it.” Eyes glittering, she turned her smile on Ran, who flushed slightly this time around. Meiyin chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you’ll knock them dead.”
Shang Qinghua, as the party about to be knocked dead, raised a hand. Yes, hello, there is an adult in the room here!
“Ah, hello, so you’re ready to get started? It’s Afterglow, right?”
The band seemed to notice her for the first time, and Himari greeted her with an enthusiastic bow. “That’s us! Thanks so much for inviting us to audition here!”
“Oh, you guys are totally the ones doing me a favor,” Shang Qinghua said with no trace of shame, waving Afterglow into the performance space. And then, with a tiny sigh to herself, Proud Immortal Demon Way. She really had no idea what Luo Binghe might do watching Afterglow’s audition, but she could guarantee a scene if Shang Qinghua decided to (try to) force them to leave.
Himari and Meiyin kept up the friendly chatter while Afterglow set up their equipment and ran a brief sound check. Yuka joined Shang Qinghua for the audition, leaning back against the drink bar with her arms crossed. Shang Qinghua, having never formally auditioned a band before, did the same.
Ran grabbed the mic, introduced the band, and they immediately plunged into a rush of drums and guitar. It was…a pretty incredible performance? It wasn’t that Hello, Happy World! had been any kind of slouch, it was just that they were so, uh, musically unique that it was hard to tell where they landed in the grand scheme of things. But Afterglow…with that powerful sound, this was a real rock band, in every sense of the word!
“Are you really sure you want to play here?” Shang Qinghua blurted out the second the final drum fill ended. Himari and Ran looked at each other in blank confusion. Yuka dug an elbow into Shang Qinghua’s side.
“Send us your setlists no later than 48 hours before the show. Rehearsal on Saturday starts at 3.”
Afterglow started striking their equipment with a little chorus of excitement. Luo Binghe’s eyes burned into the back of Ran’s head for a long moment before she abruptly turned and headed for the door without a word. Meiyin gave Himari an apologetic smile, promised to text her later, and hurried after her band.
Once the live house had cleared out, Yuka smacked Shang Qinghua on the shoulder with a glare. “When a band passes an audition, you don’t offer them an out!”
“Ah, hey, ow! I’m your boss, you know!”
“So start acting like it! What if they’d walked? They were the only ones who agreed to an audition!”
Shang Qinghua cowered away with a feeble effort of shielding herself from Yuka’s slaps. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you’re right! I definitely won’t do that again! Please just stop hitting me!”
Yuka huffed out a snort, but she stopped anyway and abandoned Shang Qinghua in favor of cleaning up the rest of the performance space. Rubbing her arm, Shang Qinghua contemplated the room at large. That was one band down and one band out…they just needed a few more bands to fill out the lineup. Alright, if she could book Afterglow, she could find a couple of opening acts!
The live house hustle didn’t slow down after that; it only picked up the pace, making the Saturday deadline feel somehow both closer and farther away. It might be a little easier to convince new bands to play now that Afterglow was slated in, but they were still horribly short on time. Despite the many yearning looks at her synths and a little bit (a lot) of plaintive whining to her empty apartment, she buckled down and used her spare time at home to keep researching bands, send out (hopefully only professionally desperate sounding) emails, and mock up flyers for distribution. She couldn’t afford to pay Yuka and the others overtime, so…
This was really sucking the life out of her creatively, she thought glumly as she dragged herself to the Mile High Club for another day of work. This life really didn’t suit her. She was sleeping like garbage, eating like garbage (more than usual) and, this afternoon in particular, feeling like garbage. Once upon a time, she’d mentally check out of this job the second she was out the door, and all her time at home (ah, she had so much more time at home before this all started!) was split comfortably between sleeping, anime, and churning out music in hours-long spurts of feverish creativity. And while her income had always been dependent on her output, it was wildly different now that she had so little time to spend on it. The crunch was real, and Shang Qinghua hated it.
Yuka was tidying up behind the counter when Shang Qinghua came in, and after a brief glance at her boss, set a water bottle down on the counter in front of her. Shang Qinghua wobbled over to the counter, her heart swelling. Yuka was never so nice or considerate to her! Going so far as to offer her boss a fresh bottle of water first thing in the morning (afternoon)...was this what respect felt like?!
“You look like shit,” Yuka said, immediately popping the little bubble of hope, but in a tone of voice that suggested she might be slightly concerned about it.
Shang Qinghua caught her reflection in the window. Ah…yeah, she really did look like a hot mess right now. Alarmingly so, apparently. The bun she’d hurriedly twisted her hair into on her way out the door had already come half-unraveled, and she seemed to have missed an entire section on the right side somehow. She pulled it out and tried to finger comb her hair into place, gave up immediately, and settled for another half-assed bun. Maybe…she should have showered today?
“Any auditions today?” Yuka asked, and it was as though the concern had never been there at all. Maybe for the best. Shang Qinghua thought that maybe Yuka’s total lack of respect for her employer was what kept her sharp, so it didn’t seem worth changing. She’d take every little sliver of productivity they could get right now.
“No,” Shang Qinghua sighed. “A maybe for tomorrow.”
“We’re starting to cut it kind of close, you know.”
“I knowww.” Another sigh, this one more like a whine. “I still can’t believe Proud Immortal Demon Way backed out like that. They wouldn’t even be a band without this place! And we wouldn’t be down an act. I think word about the last show finally got around, too, because some of those emails bounced back with a no almost immediately. It was uncanny.”
“You’re not still telling people Shen Yuan’s going to be here, are you?”
“No! I mean, not as a selling point, anyway!” Shang Qinghua reflexively cringed away from Yuka’s incredulous look. “Ah, don’t hit me! She actually promised this time, okay! She’ll really be here!”
“Did she say she’d be here today?”
Shang Qinghua blinked, and followed Yuka’s bemused gaze behind her. The doors swung quietly shut as Shen Yuan stepped inside, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses with the light touch of a finger. She looked as cool as ever—her expression was, anyway. Maybe the folding fan and high-waisted maxi skirt combo did it for the music blogger crowd, but as Shang Qinghua watched her adjust the collar of her cardigan—it was August! Who needed a knit sweater in this weather!—when combined with the years of vitriol and hot-and-cold reviews from her, Shang Qinghua’s primary impression of Shen Yuan was that of a nicely dressed-up basement dweller. Pot, kettle, yes, but Shang Qinghua didn’t have any illusions about herself, okay!
A prolonged “ah” was all Shang Qinghua managed for a moment as her two fried brain cells furiously rubbed against one another. They came to life with a crackle, and Shang Qinghua snapped her fingers.
“Aaah, hey! It’s you! You came!” She paused, hanging awkwardly. The show was still a little less than a week away. “What’s up, did you need something, or…?”
Shen Yuan blinked at her, then tilted her head, chin lifting slightly. It only seemed to amplify the ‘looking down at you’ effect she already had on Shang Qinghua, at her height. “I seem to recall you promising something about free drinks.”
“Oh, uh—you mean, like, now?”
Shang Qinghua had really meant free drinks at shows, but here she was on a Sunday afternoon, with…a messenger bag that looked like it might have a laptop in it? Hold up, was she here to work while she mooched off of Shang Qinghua’s (desperate) good will? This isn’t a café, okay!
Shen Yuan’s eyebrows lifted expectantly. Shang Qinghua slapped a smile over her face.
“I mean—yes, yeah, come on in! Totally! There’s some seating right this way…”
She waved Shen Yuan over towards the set of small tables and chairs just outside the performance space. Yuka’s eyes widened dangerously, and she mouthed what the fuck to Shang Qinghua, who just threw up her hands with a pleading look.
“So, before you ask, we still don’t have shochu,” Shang Qinghua said. Up went those little eyebrows on Shen Yuan’s forehead again.
“It’s not even one o’clock on a Sunday,” she said. “I’ll just have a coffee, thanks.”
“Sure, sure. You want anything to eat with that?”
Wait, why did she say that! She was already giving this lady enough stuff for free! But Shen Yuan declined, and Shang Qinghua trudged to the drink bar to get the lady her coffee.
A hand came down hard in a chop on the back of her neck while she was standing over the fridge, and immediately smacked her forehead against the freezer door.
“Ow—fuck, hey!”
“What are you doing?” Yuka demanded. “Is this place not hemorrhaging money fast enough for you? You want to start giving free studio time now too?”
Shang Qinghua, who had offered exactly that to Luo Binghe, said, “No! Of course not! Listen—put that hand down, okay, I am your boss, you know!”
She hadn’t actually expected that to work, but Yuka lowered her hand with a begrudging roll of her eyes. Shang Qinghua grabbed a cold can of coffee and pressed it to the back of her neck.
“Before you go and get all madder, listen! I promised her free drinks at shows. But—she’s already here, right? And if word gets out that Peerless Cucumber hangs out at the Mile High Club in her spare time, that can only improve our reputation! Which is pretty bad right now!”
“God,” Yuka said, “that is such a stupid handle.”
“So stupid,” agreed the asshole who released music under the name Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. “But popular! She’s so popular and I really don’t get why, but the bands like her more than me, so we need her here!”
“Nobody really likes you,” Yuka said. Shang Qinghua ignored her.
“Yuka.” She grasped her floor manager by the shoulders and looked at her dead in the face. Yuka’s gaze slid to one of Shang Qinghua’s hands, the corner of her mouth turned down in displeasure. “I know you’ve never respected me as your boss—”
“I never respected you as a coworker, either.”
“—But you have to believe me that I’m thinking of the live house first and foremost here! Whatever you think of me, I really don’t want this place to close down, and I’m doing everything I can to keep the lights on!”
“Because it’ll lead to your financial ruin if you don’t?”
“Yes! I mean, no! Well, yes and—” Shang Qinghua thought about what Marina had said, about the flourishing music scene here in Tokyo and the role that even just one live house played in that scene. Her grip on Yuka slackened. “I actually do care about the music, you know? I like seeing people up on that stage. The energy in the room when the crowd and the band are in sync—I know you care about that too, or you wouldn’t still be here! Right?! So please, I’m asking you, okay, I’m begging you…give Shen Yuan whatever she wants if it keeps her here!”
Yuka peeled Shang Qinghua’s fingers from her arms. “Okay. Fine. Just let go of me. Ugh, how do you have such a strong grip?”
Shang Qinghua opened her mouth. Yuka swatted her shoulder.
“Go bring that coffee to your celeb crush already so you can get some actual work done.”
“Not a crush! Not even close! In fact, she’s—”
But Yuka was already walking away with clear purpose. Rubbing the back of her neck, Shang Qinghua grabbed a second can of coffee for herself before heading back towards Shen Yuan.
As Shang Qinghua expected, she’d set up shop with her laptop at one of the tables, and she was pulling…what looked like a meat bun from a convenience store from her bag?
So Shen Yuan was the kind of person who brought outside food to a place that sold snacks! And to a place where she was already drinking for free…it took guts, okay, Shang Qinghua had to admit that! But she still felt kind of taken advantage of!
“Coffee for you,” she said, setting a can down on the table. Shen Yuan, who appeared to have earbuds in and already settled into work mode, gave Shang Qinghua a nod and a little smile that disappeared from her face as soon as she turned her gaze to her laptop screen. It was a clear dismissal.
The very least you can do when someone gives you free drinks is open your mouth and properly say thank you, okay!
Shang Qinghua’s afternoon was consumed largely by phone calls, emails, and a lot of sweating over invoices, leaving little time to check up on Shen Yuan. Which was fine! She didn’t need Shen Yuan here to hang out with her, just to be seen. And she didn’t need to do any checking, really, because Shen Yuan didn’t move from that spot for hours, apparently absorbed in her work. The only other time she actually spoke to Shang Qinghua was to request a second can of coffee.
It occurred to Shang Qinghua in the middle of a very terse phone conversation with the accountant at the cleaning company that she really ought to be leveraging a little more out of this than Shen Yuan just sitting there like extremely Online lawn decor. The lady had a serious social media following; they should be using that! Surely she could wheedle her way into convincing Shen Yuan to signal boost the show, give the Mile High Club a little press. The second Shang Qinghua had begged off the phone with a slurry of apologies and promises to send a check that didn’t bounce, she bounded out from the office into the lobby.
“Hey, so, I was thinking, Shen…Yuan?”
The seating area was empty save for an empty can of coffee. Shang Qinghua let out a little breath, deflated. Not so much as a goodbye! Yuka paused in the doorway to the rehearsal spaces and said, “Oh, yeah. You just missed her.”
Shang Qinghua wasn’t the only one, apparently. Standing just past Yuka, emerging from rehearsal with guitar in hand, was Luo Binghe. Her bright red eyes were fixed on the doors Shen Yuan had just walked through, burning bright. Shang Qinghua took a tiny involuntary step backward. Yuka brushed past Luo Binghe, who barely seemed to notice.
Shang Qinghua had only just sat back down at her desk when a whole-ass guitar was dropped onto it in front of her, making her jump. Luo Binghe was staring down at her with the kind of single-minded intensity usually reserved for bloodlust. Shang Qinghua’s stomach did an uncomfortable, wet flop.
“Okay, seriously, you cannot keep breaking your guitars in my—”
“We want to audition for the show.”
Right. Of course. Luo Binghe was all teen tantrums over being invited to audition at a live house she deemed beneath her station, but now the object of her obsession had been seen leaving the building. Shang Qinghua sat back in her chair with her arms crossed, trying to look like someone who owned a business that wasn’t failing.
“Oh? I thought you’d outgrown this lowly stage, huh?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes narrowed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees. “You said Shen Yuan-sama would be at the next show. If that really is true…then let us audition.”
“You know, I already offered you an audition,” Shang Qinghua said, “and you turned it down. You called me a liar, even. That hurts, you know! I’ve always rooted for you guys!”
The ferocity of Luo Binghe’s returning glare was enough to make Shang Qinghua shrink back in her chair. Just then, the sense memory of Yuka slapping her over and over was incredibly strong.
“Okay, okay, yes, I’m sorry, you can audition! Please just pick up your guitar and stop throwing it around, you’re gonna take somebody’s arm off!”
Luo Binghe picked her guitar off the desk with one hand and slung it back over her shoulder. “We’ll audition tomorrow,” she said, and left. Shang Qinghua leaned forward on her desk and rubbed her face. This was…a win, right?
Proud Immortal Demon Way’s audition didn’t blow Shang Qinghua away the way Afterglow’s had, but they didn’t have to. Shang Qinghua was always going to give them the spot anyway. She really, really didn’t have time to scout an extra band when the show was only a few days away.
Luo Binghe seemed pleased when Shang Qinghua formally invited them to play, a spark of excitement in her eyes. Six Balls and Sha Hualing high fived each other with such enthusiasm that they toppled one of the hi-hats. Meiyin was the only one to actually thank Shang Qinghua for the opportunity, and Mobei Jun…had pretty much the same stoic expression as ever.
That was all well and fine, and Shang Qinghua was thrilled, she really was! But the concert was really starting to loom on the horizon. The other band that had tentatively agreed to an audition backed out at the last minute, having gotten an audition at some other, better venue. Ah, the Shen Yuan appeal wasn’t bulletproof, it seemed. Shang Qinghua was getting so, so sick of answering emails, and whenever her cellphone rang, she had to resist the urge to throw it out the window. Being a small business owner really sucked, okay!
And then there was the other half of her life, the one that belonged to Airplane Shooting Through the Sky. She felt kind of guilty at how neglected her own music had been lately. Not for lack of trying, but still…she was lucky she had another buffer track to toss out this week, but she was going to have to get down to music production real soon if she didn’t want to lose any more subscribers.
On Thursday night, feeling about sixty percent defeated, Shang Qinghua buried her phone under a pile of dirty laundry and cracked open her laptop. She couldn’t afford to go out tonight, but looking at positive comments to stroke her ego was free! Whatever Peerless Cucumber’s blog said, Airplane still had a sizable fanbase, and there were people out there who really enjoyed her music. It was a nice reminder when she’d been spending all of her time busting her ass to showcase other musicians. Shang Qinghua kicked off her pants, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and crawled onto her desk chair.
Oh, jeez, here was the true mark of how busy she’d been: she had a ton of unread comments on a number of posts, plus a stack of social media notifications she’d barely had time to notice. Shang Qinghua pored through them hungrily, batting aside the negative commentary and soaking in all the praise. Aw, she even had a few messages from some of her personal favorite fans, a starry-eyed bunch of girls with matching avatars who claimed Airplane as one of their inspirations. They’d been proclaiming their interest in music for about as long as they’d been subscribers. It was pretty heartwarming, actually. Shang Qinghua’s chest swelled just a little bit.
idc what anyone else says i love all ur new stuff 😭 pls never stop!!
btw we finally formed a band like we said!! we even recorded something hehe... (≧∇≦)/
i know ur like super busy but we would totally die if u listened...... 🙏🏼
one day we’ll totally do a concert and send u a video!!! we’ll even give u a shoutout!!!
Idly curious, Shang Qinghua clicked through to their band’s SoundCloud and had a little chuckle at their name. Moon Dew…it was kind of a silly name for a band, but it was a clear reference to one of Airplane’s more popular music videos, a song about a fantastical world of botany. Granted, it was really popular because she’d managed to make something look nice; the song, not so highly rated. Peerless Cucumber had condemned the lyrics as “rambling drivel, even for Airplane”.
But the band…wasn’t half bad, actually? They sounded new and awkward, their sound still figuring out how to fit together, but she thought their songwriting was pretty solid for a new band. It was structurally sound, just in need of some refinement. Shang Qinghua listened to their most streamed song (around 300 hits) a second time and found herself nodding along. And hey, according to their Twitter profile (53 followers), they were local.
Shang Qinghua rubbed sweaty palms on her thighs as an idea simmered to the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a good idea. Mixing Airplane’s online presence with her real life was a dangerous prospect. She kept those separate for a reason, and right now reason number one was Shen Yuan. This could get very sticky very quickly.
But she also really, really needed a another band to play in two days.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and went to close her laptop. It was late, they probably wouldn’t see it until tomorrow, and it wasn’t even remotely a sure thing. Better to just sleep on it instead of staring at her laptop until 3am.
A notification popped up.
That last was total bullshit, but Shang Qinghua had to keep things separate somehow. The fan thanked her with a babble of emoticons, promising to email right away, and Shang Qinghua closed her laptop and let out a long, slow breath. For better or for worse, she had a solid maybe on an audition tomorrow. All she had to do was keep things from falling apart until Saturday.
End notes: Afterglow is a really good band & you should give them a listen
i also made a ~music mood board~ for proud immortal demon way the band in case you're curious about luo binghe & co's sound
link roundup:
Afterglow viz ref
That Is How I Roll video