Lu Yan hadn't been upstairs for long when his door was knocked on loudly.

"Brother Yan, Brother Yan, are you home!"

"Bro!"

"Bro, answer me!"

He was changing his clothes, his hand on his belt, the zipper of his jeans halfway down. He pulled it back up. "Zhang Xiaohui, what is it?"

The boy outside, who was about to knock again, saw the door open and didn't have time to pull his hand back.

The boy was quite young, only seventeen or eighteen. On his feet was a pair of broken flip-flops. Even though the glue had come off, he still wore them with ease. He scratched his head and handed over a bundle folded like a block of tofu. "It's like this, there was a meeting in the building today. Auntie Zhang had someone bring this back from the hospital. It's a small token from the old lady. You weren't at the meeting. The demolition company might come again tomorrow... Holy crap, your hairstyle!"

He gave a thumbs-up as he spoke, "So cool."

Zhang Xiaohui wasn't wrong. Although the hairstyle was indeed otherworldly, that upright broom could make anyone look ugly in a new way. But Lu Yan was no ordinary person.

He still remembered when he first moved into this building two years ago. It was almost the Mid-Autumn Festival, so he had prepared a few boxes of mooncakes to give to his neighbors. He went door to door from the first floor to the top. When he knocked on the door of 602 and saw Lu Yan for the first time, he was a little stunned: long hair, a brow stud, a row of earrings, and an extremely alternative and rebellious sharpness about him.

Then the long-haired man squinted at him and blew out a puff of smoke. "New here?"

That puff of smoke made him forget what he was there for.

Now, that man's long hair had become a brightly colored, upright broom head.

Zhang Xiaohui said again, "Brother Yan, are you on Kuaishou?"

A vein on Lu Yan's forehead throbbed.

Zhang Xiaohui knew well that it wasn't easy for anyone to make a living, so he encouraged him, "The Bury Love Family is quite popular recently. You have talent and good looks. You'll definitely stand out. Conquering Kuaishou is just around the corner."

"Xiaohui," Lu Yan looked at him for a moment and beckoned with his finger. "Come here for a second."

Zhang Xiaohui vaguely sensed danger. "I, uh, I suddenly remembered I have something to do."

"Have you got a brain?" Lu Yan bent his knuckle and flicked Zhang Xiaohui's forehead, not too hard, not too soft. "With my kind of vibe, do I look like someone who plays on Kuaishou?"

Zhang Xiaohui clutched his head. "No, no, no, you don't. I was wrong, Brother Yan."

Lu Yan pretended to flick him again. When Zhang Xiaohui closed his eyes, he opened his hand and rested it lightly on his shoulder. "Alright, thanks for making the trip. I'll be around most of tomorrow. If they dare to come—"

Zhang Xiaohui tried to guess what Lu Yan was going to say next. Eight different sentences went through his mind, but he still couldn't guess it.

Lu Yan said, "...I'll fuck them up."

The neighborly relations in this building were peculiar. Everyone was a tenant who had paid the next year's rent in advance. Then, suddenly, it was announced that the residential area had been bought by a large company to be converted into a factory, but the landlord had run off with the rent and compensation money without a word.

Initially, it was just about the rent. But the people sent by that big company to negotiate had a terrible attitude. They started a fight after just a few words, pushing Auntie Zhang, who lived on the first floor, to the ground and sending her to the hospital.

And that's how the feud began.

When it came to being difficult, this group of people, who had lived in cheap rental housing for years, had never lost.

The performance originally scheduled for tonight was postponed until tomorrow. Lu Yan's plan to come back, drop off his guitar case, and then head to the bar was disrupted. He lay in bed, planning to sleep. To avoid messing up his hairstyle, he had to keep a distance from the headboard, and so he spent a frustrating night.

The next morning.

Unlike other places, after the demolition in the Seventh District, there were no restaurants nearby. Even in the morning, mobile stalls selling breakfast didn't come here to do business. The entire Seventh District looked like a no-man's land. Lu Yan went to bed early and woke up early. He got up before six to make instant noodles. He filled the kettle with water and, while waiting for it to boil, leaned against the kitchen counter. A melody suddenly came to mind, and his fingers tapped idly on the ceramic tiles.

His other hand pushed open the window beside him.

Although the environment in this area was bad, especially in their residential complex, from his current position, he could just see the sun rising from the horizon, its light dyeing half the sky a translucent red.

Lu Yan watched for a while, then pulled his gaze back. It was still the same Lower District, and the ruins were still the same pile of ruins... A car entered his line of sight.

In front of the Seventh District's entrance, by the archway that had been demolished to pieces, a silver-gray sports car was parked. It was modified, the tail of the car altered to look so flashy it seemed as if it could fly into the sky.

This was a car that was unlikely to appear here. On the nearby main roads, the vehicles that ran rampant were either small electric scooters or second-hand cars. This entire car, from its headlights to its rear, screamed 'out of place'.

What did Zhang Xiaohui say yesterday?

— "The people from the demolition company might come again tomorrow."

'They're here early enough,' Lu Yan thought.

Most of the residents in the building left early and returned late, working in all sorts of professions.

At this hour, almost everyone in the building had already left.

Lu Yan took one last look, confirming that only this one car was parked there, not followed by a large bulldozer or anything, so it posed no threat. He hummed a tune under his breath, averted his gaze, and stared at the steam rising from the pot, his knuckles tapping on the cold ceramic tiles.

As Lu Yan tapped his fingers on the tiles, inspiration struck. His hands started to itch, so he took down the guitar hanging on the wall.

The place he lived in was a small single room, about twenty square meters, with a few pieces of furniture crammed together in an incredible fashion.

Most of the space in the twenty-odd square meters was used for musical instruments: several guitars, an electric keyboard of unknown origin from some second-hand market, and all sorts of CD records.

Lu Yan, the lead singer of a band who was currently boiling water, held his guitar, plugged it in, and strummed the strings from top to bottom.

Then he strummed a second time, following the tune he was humming.

He didn't notice that the car downstairs, the one that looked like it could fly, had its engine turned off. Half a minute later, the door opened.

A person got out of the car.

The person wore a watch on their wrist and a well-tailored black shirt. The skeleton dial was encrusted with a circle of diamonds. The shirt cuffs were casually rolled up a few times, revealing half a wrist. The rolled-up sleeve had an unknown stain on it, a small, off-white patch that stood out against the black.

"Boss, are you really going in?" The car window rolled down, and a head poked out from the driver's seat. The owner of the head had a striking head of red hair. The redhead looked left and right and sighed, "This is my first time in this district. Is this a place for people to live? It's a condemned building, isn't it? It looks like it's about to collapse."

In front of them was half an archway, broken.

The guardhouse, demolished.

The road underfoot was barely flat for a few steps.

In short, everything everywhere was broken.

...

The one who got out of the car just glanced at the surroundings, not as dramatically as the redhead. He didn't even show much emotion.

However, he didn't seem to be in a good mood either. He took out a pack of cigarettes, lowered his head, and pulled one out directly with his mouth. But it was obvious that this irritation had nothing to do with the pile of rubble in front of him.

"Light," Xiao Heng said, the cigarette between his lips.

The redhead understood in a second. He immediately took out a lighter, lit it with a click, and held it out of the car window with both hands. "Here you go!"

Xiao Heng bent over and lit his cigarette.

Smoke curled up in front of the redhead.

After lighting the cigarette for him, the redhead tossed the lighter onto the passenger seat and put both hands back on the steering wheel. He caressed it back and forth a few times as if stroking a woman. "This car of yours is really something, a man's ultimate dream. Damn, it's such a thrill to drive! Boss, can I take it for another two laps around here?"

"Zhai Zhuangzhi."

The redhead, caught off guard by hearing his own name, asked, "Huh?"

Xiao Heng said again, "Get lost."

Zhai Zhuangzhi: "..."

"Get lost and find a supermarket nearby," Xiao Heng said, taking two steps forward while smoking. He added, "Then buy a can of hypoallergenic formula and get lost back here."

"Big Bro, don't just say half of what you mean." Zhai Zhuangzhi patted his chest.

Xiao Heng walked to the bottom of the half-demolished building. He didn't know what its structure was, but it looked like someone had had a fight at the entrance. The entire door was crooked and opened with a simple push.

He opened his hand. In his palm was a slip of paper with writing on it: Harmony Residential Area, Building Six, Unit Three, Room 601.

"Boss, what kind of milk powder did you say just now?" Zhai Zhuangzhi had driven five hundred meters away when he called Xiao Heng again. "Tommy? Is it a foreign brand?"

"Hypoallergenic formula. The 'allergenic' in 'allergic'." Xiao Heng extinguished the cigarette that was still more than half-left.

"Holy crap," Zhai Zhuangzhi stepped on the gas. "That little one is allergic to regular formula? How was I supposed to know there were so many specifics about milk powder. You've only been taking care of that kid for a few days, and you already know so much..."

Xiao Heng hung up the phone.

Zhai Zhuangzhi's boisterous voice disappeared from his ear, but the world didn't become quiet because of it. At the same time, the sound of a guitar drifted down from upstairs. The distorted effect sounded extremely intense, with a powerful, piercing quality that seemed to slice the air in two.

An electric guitar.

But the skill didn't match the hardware at all. The playing was clumsy and stuttering, a demonic sound to the ears, interspersed with static and the dull, wrong notes produced when fingers failed to press the strings firmly... If playing the guitar had skill levels, the person playing now probably wouldn't even qualify for an evaluation.

This playing was just too awful.

The narrow corridor was plastered with small ads and random graffiti sprayed with red paint. The unique vulgarity of the Lower District silently seeped out from the cracks in the wall's plaster.

Also rushing out was the increasingly brutal sound of the guitar.

Xiao Heng reached the sixth floor. The guitar playing, which was terrible on a whole new level, was too close, separated from him only by a wall that felt as if it didn't exist.

Then, the guitar sound changed to a tapping sequence, probably an attempt to show off, but it completely failed.

"..."

The guitar paused for two beats. In that staggered silence, Xiao Heng heard a few not-so-clear lines of humming.

A man's voice.

The tone was surprisingly not bad, and the pitch was accurate. Much better than the guitar.

After playing the last note, Lu Yan closed his eyes in intoxication, savoring the lingering sound. He waited a full three seconds before opening them.

He gently shook his left wrist, corrected a few notes on the handwritten music sheet, then hung the guitar back up. He poured the boiling water into the instant noodle cup and conveniently used a bowl to weigh down the lid.

He looked at the music sheet, which was now altered beyond recognition, for a while. Deciding to give it a name, he took a pen and wrote two words at the top: Soar.

It didn't feel right.

Crossed it out.

He wrote again: Fly, young man.

...?

That wasn't quite right either. Was he trying to be funny?

Crossed it out.

He crossed out four or five in a row. In the end, only three flamboyant, casual characters remained at the top: Haven't thought of one.

He took a picture of the paper and sent it to Li Zhen.

To prevent Li Zhen from missing it, Lu Yan found a dozen stickers in his collection and sent them all at once. He was practically an expert at this kind of harassment.

"Lu Yan! You son of a grandturtle!" Li Zhen's call came quickly.

Lu Yan said, "Stop asking about my grandpa all the time. My grandpa is doing great. He's healthy, eats well, and sleeps soundly."

"..." Li Zhen said, on the verge of a breakdown, "What time is it?! I was sleeping and your notifications woke me up!"

"Did you see the new piece?"

Li Zhen was both breaking down and curious. "Wait a second, I'll look now."

It would have been better not to look. Looking at it made him break down even more.

"What the hell is this? What is this you've written... How many times have I told you, if you write it like this chicken scratch, no one can understand it. Can we please write properly? Dammit, let me see... I can only make out the damn name!" Li Zhen's voice grew louder and louder; with a little more effort, he could have been singing soprano. "And the name is 'Haven't thought of one'!"

Lu Yan rubbed his neck. "Can't understand it, huh? Should I play it for you then?"

There was a dead silence on Li Zhen's end.

To be honest, Lu Yan's songwriting ability was very good. Between the hard-working type and the talented type, he was definitely a third kind—the one who was both hard-working and talented. As the lead singer, his singing wasn't bad either. There was a reason their band dominated this area and was nicknamed the Demon King Band. It's just that every time, Lu Yan would send drafts that were impossible to read. They were so sloppily written that you couldn't understand them without hearing him play it once... But his playing was truly awful to listen to.

Li Zhen was now wide awake, all sleepiness gone.

"I wasn't fully awake just now," Li Zhen explained. "Yan-er, I think this music sheet, while it seems complex, is actually not. It's just that I wasn't feeling it with my heart just now."

Lu Yan: "Then feel it some more."

Li Zhen: "Okay, I'll feel it some more."

After hanging up, Lu Yan folded the paper and stuck it on the fridge. Just as he was about to lift the lid off his instant noodles, he suddenly remembered that the bowl he was using to cover them was borrowed from his next-door neighbor a few days ago.

A single woman with long hair lived next door. She had moved in less than half a year ago, and Lu Yan didn't even know her name. The woman didn't talk much. He didn't know when she left during the day, and she came back even later than him at night. They basically never ran into each other.

Lu Yan decided to return the bowl first, lest he turn around and forget about it again. Before leaving, he picked a few oranges from the fruit bowl and placed them in the bowl, then he pulled open the door—

In their dilapidated building.

In the narrow corridor of the sixth floor.

At this spot, at this time, stood a very suspicious man.

The author has something to say:

Lu Yan is the shou