Chapter 7 Let's Make the Money Rain.
The entire performance came to a close with Lin Wansheng's standard bow.
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience below, long and unceasing.
Several audience members in the front row even laughed until tears streamed down their faces, busily wiping them away.
Lin Wansheng let out a sigh of relief and was just about to turn around and head backstage.
But a figure moved faster than him, darting onto the stage from the flank with a "swoosh."
It was Wang Tiancheng.
He snatched the microphone from Lin Wansheng's hand, speaking English with a thick Shanghai accent.
Like a clumsy auctioneer, he loudly announced to the crowd,
"Everyone! According to our Chinese tradition, if you felt extremely satisfied with Jimmy's performance just now..."
He deliberately dragged out his voice, whetting everyone's appetite. "Now, you can start giving rewards!"
Seeing the audience's expressions—all clearly wondering, "What are rewards?"
Wang Tiancheng quickly explained, "This is not tips!"
He waved his arms vigorously.
"This is the highest respect for the artist!"
The audience members looked at each other in bewilderment, clearly still not understanding this so-called "Chinese tradition."
Seeing this, Wang Tiancheng lost his patience.
He simply threw caution to the wind, raising the microphone to his mouth.
Using all his strength, he roared out a line he had learned from a gangster movie.
"Let's make the money rain, mo**er f**kers!"
At these words, the entire venue fell into a strange silence.
Li Shuyao, sitting in the corner, watched this awkward and embarrassing scene until her face flushed red with anxiety.
She stamped her foot, as if making some major decision.
In the next second, she suddenly stood up, rushed to the side of the stage, and pulled out all the cash from her small wallet.
Several ten-dollar bills and some change were thrown onto the stage without a second glance.
The bills drifted down under the spotlight, as if flipping a switch.
The audience below was stunned for a moment, then erupted into good-natured laughter and whistles.
A drunken, burly white man laughed heartily.
He pulled a handful of crumpled dollars from his pocket and threw them onto the stage as well.
Immediately after, a second person, then a third.
More and more people joined the game.
Bills, coins, and even a bank card were hurled toward the stage like rain.
Lin Wansheng stood in the center of the money rain, completely dumbfounded.
And right in the midst of this chaos and revelry, the system's voice rang out in his mind.
【Your words have already moved the hearts of the masses.】
【The gift of your bearing has become permanent.】
【The leader of the Chinese has also grown appreciative in his heart, bestowing upon you three additional points of physique to strengthen your dignified bearing.】
【Know that when words are powerless, fists and palms are also keen weapons.】
【Subduing others through force is also a great path.】
【The road ahead is long; please seek your own path, Executor.】
【Remember, the period of four months passes in the blink of an eye.】
【This matter concerns the lives of over a hundred; should there be any mishap, there will be no chance to turn things around.】
The system's warning had not yet completely faded.
Lin Wansheng was already rendered speechless internally.
"Dude, don't pull this kind of thing when someone is at their happiest, okay?"
"It's not like I can travel back to 1885 to convince those Chinese miners to go on strike..."
"That's more than a hundred years ago. How am I supposed to handle that?"
His mental complaints hadn't even ended.
When a busy figure on the stage interrupted his thoughts.
Wang Tiancheng was lying on the ground, like a diligent groundhog.
Frantically scooping the scattered bills into his arms.
Looking at those green pieces of paper.
The internal struggle in Lin Wansheng's mind over his historical mission.
Lasted only 0.1 seconds.
Grabbing the cash right in front of him was what truly mattered~~~!
Unable to resist the temptation of money, he immediately joined the money-grabbing ranks.
Then, he straightened up and waved at the audience below who were still cheering.
Thanking everyone for their recognition.
He picked up the microphone and shouted with all his might:
"Beers for everyone, on me! Thank you all for supporting the Chinese special!"
"We'll meet again next week~~!"
—
In the backstage dressing room, bustling crowds constantly congratulated Lin Wansheng on the great success of his debut.
This was the greatest success he had achieved in front of a large audience since the eighth grade.
The last time he had felt this way was at the school league finals.
He had held the football, under the gaze of thousands in the stadium.
Knocking aside two defenders, diving headlong toward the final block.
In the instant his body was sent flying from the collision, he slammed the ball fiercely into the end zone.
That feeling of adrenaline rapidly surging, of controlling the entire field.
He had never expected to relive it at a stand-up comedy show.
Not to mention, the system had also given him tangible rewards.
It's just that Lin Wansheng still didn't understand what that "bearing" meant.
Did it make him better looking? Or was it a charisma stat?
When would this system catch up with the times and speak some plain language?
...
"Stop spacing out, Jimmy!!!" Wang Tiancheng waved his hand cheerfully in front of his face.
"Look at this mountain range."
On the small table in front of the makeup mirror, Wang Tiancheng was taking the money they had just received.
Arranging it bill by bill according to denomination.
Perhaps Lin Wansheng was still riding the high from his stand-up routine.
He couldn't help but quip,
"Your English isn't all that great, but you've thoroughly learned those Americans' terrible method of counting money."
"Aiya, this way you can see it more clearly," Wang Tiancheng said nonchalantly.
"We Chinese count money by the stack. Who counts it by spreading it out like you?" Lin Wansheng continued to tease.
"If you go to the supermarket and buy something for $9.50, you wouldn't just hand them a tenner,
instead of acting like a proper Chinese person and giving them ten dollars plus fifty cents in coins to make a round number, right?"
As they were speaking, Li Mingyu walked in, an obvious smile on his face.
"Nice work!" He patted Lin Wansheng's shoulder.
"Interested in coming once a week from now on? If you can maintain this level, the appearance fee is three hundred."
"If you improve even more, I'll introduce you to a good agent."
He turned to a capable-looking woman of about thirty behind him and instructed,
"A Ling, count today's show as three hundred too. Give it to Jimmy in a bit."
"No, no, no, Brother Yu, that's too much." Lin Wansheng quickly waved his hand.
"Besides, I just said I was treating everyone to drinks, so I won't take money today."
As he spoke, he pointed at the pile of "rewards" on the table exceeding six hundred dollars.
"I'll just split this with everyone."
But Li Mingyu waved his hand, cutting him off.
"Wait until you're of legal drinking age to treat people."
"Until then, in my venue, you don't need to treat anyone."
He glanced at the money on the table, his tone becoming serious.
"Besides, we don't have a rule about splitting tips here."
"Don't bring in those white people's habits."
"The capable, get more."