Then Samuel Parker had a heart-to-heart talk, reminiscing about childhood, regretting missing the chance to truly connect with Samuel Parker, not even knowing his talent points were in performing arts. Luckily, Samuel Parker could still recall this part of his memory to handle the record.

As they talked, Henry Carter said she wanted to take Samuel Parker somewhere.

A friend of her friend had opened an old-style teahouse, which hosted traditional performances every night, including acrobatics, performing arts, and more. She had specifically cleared her schedule to take Samuel Parker there.

“Do you know what kind of place this is?” Henry Carter parked the car in front of the teahouse and said seriously, “Not every crosstalk performer can get on TV. Most people can only find work in teahouses like this, barely making a living. Your competition isn’t just your peers, but also opera actors, acrobats, and maybe even musical theater performers.”

She deliberately brought Samuel Parker to a place like this, instead of a TV station, to let her son see reality and scare him a little.

But to her surprise, Samuel Parker sighed, “The conditions here look really good!”

Back then, because he had offended an official, no theater would take him in, and he could only perform on the street, which was basically like setting up a street stall, telling crosstalk right on the road.

As for competing on the same stage for a living? That’s how it was in the old days too—magic tricks, shuttlecock kicking, jar juggling… there were plenty of acts.

Henry Carter was at a loss for words; Samuel Parker’s tone was so genuine that she couldn’t find any flaws. “…There must be worse places too, just that you can’t see them. Let’s go in.”

Putting on her sunglasses, Henry Carter led Samuel Parker into the teahouse. Usually, half the people who came here were enthusiasts who liked to drink tea, chat, and watch lively shows, and the other half were tourists.

Henry Carter made a phone call and went straight to the owner’s office. “Mr. Harris, thank you for coming especially today.”

She had met the owner a few times; he wasn’t there every day.

“Ms. Carter, you’re too polite. Of course I have to host you when you come.” Mr. Harris saw Samuel Parker, knew he was Henry Carter’s son, and praised him before saying at the right moment, “You want to take a look backstage, right? I’ll take you both.”

If it weren’t for Mr. Harris leading them, they wouldn’t have been able to enter the backstage lounge so easily.

At this time, the backstage was quite lively. Henry Carter had her face covered with sunglasses, and Samuel Parker wasn’t that famous yet. With Mr. Harris accompanying them, the other performers didn’t think much of it.

Henry Carter was determined to let Samuel Parker see how hard everyone worked, so she didn’t plan to just take a quick look and leave—they would at least stay for the evening. Not only would they listen backstage, but also watch from the front.

There are hardships in every profession. It wasn’t easy for her to be a pretty face, let alone for these performers.

Mr. Harris chatted with them for a while, sharing stories he knew. He actually didn’t know Henry Carter’s purpose, but seeing her so interested in the performers’ lives, he played along.

After about half an hour, the teahouse manager suddenly came backstage. “David Miller and his partner can’t make it. Old Clark, don’t leave yet, go up and do a set to save the show.”

Mr. Harris raised an eyebrow and asked, “What happened to them?”

The manager, clearly annoyed, said, “What else? The gig they took isn’t finished yet, so they can’t come. Now that they’ve gotten a bit famous and been on TV, they think they’re something special! Big stars now!”

It was obviously a sarcastic tone. The two they were talking about had been performing crosstalk at Mr. Harris’s place for two years, and recently got lucky and appeared on TV a few times, raising their profile.

Mr. Harris had long suspected they wanted to leave, which was normal—if you can get on TV, why stay in a teahouse? With that kind of fame, you can do more gigs and make more money. But breaking an appointment was really not cool. Mr. Harris said irritably, “Fine, Old Clark, you guys fill in for now.”

Old Clark was a storyteller. With the other performers not around, only he could step in. Without a word, he grabbed his props and went to the front with the manager.

But in no time, the two of them came back.

Mr. Harris asked in surprise, “What happened now?”

The manager wiped his sweat and said, “Those two scoundrels, David Miller and his partner… There’s a whole tour group in the audience today. The tour guide must have gotten a kickback from David Miller, and somehow hyped them up to the tourists, making a fuss and demanding to see David Miller perform.”

Mr. Harris was speechless. “I never promised them any specific performer! I just sold a group ticket!”

The two of them started cursing David Miller and his partner.

But there was nothing to be done. David Miller had indeed been on TV twice, and with the tour guide hyping them up, the tour group felt like they were getting ripped off if they didn’t see a famous act. It wasn’t necessarily that they liked David Miller or crosstalk that much.

But at this point, complaining was pointless—saving the show was the priority. Mr. Harris scanned the backstage, thinking about who could handle the crowd.

“Mr. Harris, how about I sing a song?” Henry Carter suddenly smiled and said.

Mr. Harris looked at her in surprise. Compared to David Miller and his partner, who had only been on a few local TV stations, Henry Carter was a real star. Because of that, he had never even dreamed of asking Henry Carter to help out at his little venue!

“This… You’re too kind, I can just find an old performer to fill in.” Mr. Harris said quickly.