Chapter 273 WGN News

"The latest news is that after the large-scale curfew in Los Angeles yesterday, the Grand Commander issued a speech that he would not tolerate 'anarchy' and clearly opposed the riot. At one o'clock this morning, the Governor of California announced that he would cut off the power in the riot area and officially send The federal government requested assistance. More than 14,000 soldiers from the 40th Infantry Division of the California National Guard, the 7th Infantry Division of the United States, and the 1st Marine Division, as well as 1,700 anti-riot special police and federal law enforcement officers have successively arrived. Entering rioting neighborhoods across California, the situation was initially brought under control."

At noon the next day, in the studio hall of Chicago’s WGN TV station, the black host quickly broadcast the latest developments, and the small window screen showed a bird’s-eye view of Los Angeles. Scores of neighborhoods were burned to ruins, “In Chicago , San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas, Seattle, Phoenix and other places also saw imitative small-scale riots. Last night, protesters attacked some ethnic minority areas in South City..."

The scene changes to scenes of local looting and arson in Chicago, "However, at this moment when the whole country is hostile and hostile to each other, there is still a touch of humanity at the intersection of Clark Street..."

The small window was enlarged, and at the intersection of Clark Street, Song Ya was singing Where Is The Love, which had just received the apocalypse. Blacks, whites, and Asians gathered under the small stage, all silently watching him in the center of the stage. Because the street lamps were damaged, many people spontaneously lit candles or lighters, and the scene was dotted with warmth and peace.

"Father, Father, Father..." The male host followed Song Ya to read the lyrics in a sad tone: "Please help us and give us your instructions, because the problems between people stump me..."

The scene cut back to the studio. He put his hand on his forehead, sucked his nose, and then wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, "Where is the love? Where is the love? In today's America, this is really a difficult question to answer."

The camera zoomed out, and beside a man and a hostess in the studio, Song Ya appeared with a dignified expression.

"Sorry." The male host waved his hand and returned to normal, "So, APLUS, what prompted you to appear on Clark Street last night? And to write such a profound song."

"emmmmm..."

Song Ya pursed her lips and pondered for a while, "How should I say it? It was almost a subconscious move. When I heard from my accountant, an old Chinese man whom I respect very much, that Chicago's Chinatown might be as dangerous as Los Angeles , without any consideration, I decided to use my own strength to prevent such incidents from happening in Chicago..."

"Are you of Chinese descent?" the hostess asked.

"Yes, half." Song Ya replied, "But it's not just this half blood that prompted me to do what I did last night, in fact..."

The green light above the nearby camera was on, and he knew that it meant that the TV screen would switch to a close-up of his face, so he put his finger on his upper lip immediately, "Actually, from the night before yesterday, when I saw the chaotic scene in Los Angeles on TV, I was shocked and helpless... I saw a white driver being beaten and robbed at the intersection, and then lying on the ground without help."

"I also saw that the driver was rescued by an African-American pastor and is now out of danger," the white hostess said.

"Really? That's really great. I bless and pray for the pastor. He is a man with a capital letter." Song Ya immediately made a gesture of congratulations, with a face full of compassion.

"You are all, APLUS." The male host smiled.

"Me?" Song Ya smiled wryly and shook her head, "I'm ashamed, you know, I became famous very early..."

"Yes, we all like your songs, since two years ago? You wrote the second-hand store? At least I know that the second-hand store owners in Chicago love you to death." The hostess laughed.

"Thank you for their love, and it is precisely because of the love of the public that I used to think I knew everything and was omnipotent." Song Ya said: "I donate money to charity organizations, and I have also been to South Africa and met Mandela. Mr. himself..."

"You are doing good deeds APLUS." The male host said.

"but……"

Song Ya adjusted her sitting posture, and tears began to flicker in her eyes, "But since the day before yesterday, I found out that I was wrong, I was too young, and I didn't really understand the whole society. I lived in Nancheng, where the majority of African Americans Spent my childhood and most of my teenage years in the ghetto, and then I hit the big time and started shedding my second-hand clothes quickly, into mansions, and expensive luxuries…”

He shook the big thick gold chain around his neck, "I don't really know how to really help others. I donated money and went to South Africa for a superficial stroll, and fell into superficial self-movement and satisfaction... I Ashamed of who I was now."

"You don't have to be like this APLUS." The male host wiped away tears again, "You don't have to be like this."

"Since the day before yesterday, I have been confused. What happened to this world? What happened to America? What happened to Los Angeles? What happened between different ethnic groups? All..."

Song Ya spread her five fingers and gestured with her hands on her head: "I haven't thought about all of this at all...Frankly speaking, I have only suffered two or three racial discriminations since I was a child. I never thought about my compatriots. There is so much hate between black, white and asian. I know now that something is wrong with the world, but I can't understand why, where is the love that people have for each other? Why is there only hatred , indifference, alienation..."

"Actually, we are also APLUS like you, you are not alone." The hostess also cried.

"Okay, this is the WGN noon news program, please don't go away." The staff urged through the earphones, the male anchor hurriedly announced the end of the news, and the TV screen cut to the live video on Clark Street.

'I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder, As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder...'

Al sang his rap part hoarsely on stage, "People killin', people dyin', children hurtin', you hear them cryin'. Can you practice what you preach , And would you turn the other cheek ? Father, Father, Father help us, Send us some guidance from above, 'Cause people got me, got me ', Where is the love..." Accompanied by the subtitles of the cast and crew, the program ended with Song Ya's singing.

"Very good, very deep APLUS."

The director of the program happily came over to shake hands with Song Ya, "Your live performance was also perfect. I was worried that there would be accidents if I let you on the show without checking the script."

"No, I'm very professional." Song Ya smiled and shook hands with the two hosts and other staff.

"We have already edited the film for you." The program director pointed to Yeremov who was standing at the entrance of the studio hall.

Yeremov also held the black video tape in his hand and smiled at Song Yayang.

"Thank you so much."

Song Ya bid farewell to the column group and joined Yeremov, "Send the videotape to Washington BET immediately and hand it over to Gordon."

"Has anyone told you that you are a good candidate for a politician?" Yeremov looked at him with admiring eyes.

"Too much."

Song Ya casually dealt with the other party's compliments, "You remember to check the content of the videotape first, there should be our live version in it, to match the news screen switching of the chaos in Los Angeles."

"I will, by the way, FOX called Hayden just now, and they also want to ask for your song." Yeremov said.

"They are all TV stations that lean towards the elephant party..." Song Ya smiled bitterly and shook her head, "Give it to them, I need exposure now."

"I think so too."

Yeremov excitedly went to work, Song Ya returned to A+ Records, the three recording studios were working at the same time, Al, Delay, Fergie and Common Sense were all concentrating on recording their part of the lyrics.

"Coffee, Taraji." He walked into the deep ocean studio.

"Need to sleep? Boss?" Taraji said with concern as he handed the coffee to him.

"No one is allowed to sleep until the first edition is recorded." Song Ya ordered rudely.