Chapter 26 Part 1

Lu Yan wanted to say, can we just chat without the personal attacks?

He remembered that thing.

A music arrangement software.

Xiao Heng's arm rested on the low wall, his fingers holding a cigarette that dangled in the air six stories high. The cigarette burned down bit by bit, the ash rustling as it fell. The sound of the wind whistled past.

"That kind of stuff," Xiao Heng said, "I can write ten of them in one night."

There was no particular tone in Xiao Heng's voice when he said this, but it still carried his unique brand of nonchalance and arrogance.

"Impressive," Lu Yan said, "a little genius at programming."

Xiao Heng let out a laugh. "Bullshit."

Xiao Heng added, "I stopped playing with that stuff a long time ago."

The cigarette flickered with a tiny spark in the dark night.

Actually, he could no longer remember what he had said during the argument with Xiao Qishan.

But he remembered that winding mountain road that night.

After a huge fight, he drove out. It was on that road that he called his mother.

At the time, he still believed that his mother, who was away from home all year round, was just as others said—too busy with work, needing to travel frequently for business. "Madam has been busy lately. She just acquired a company a few days ago, and many things need to be handed over."

"Madam is not in the country during this period."

He made several calls.

The last call was finally answered by the woman. "What is it." Although the woman's voice lacked any warmth, the Xiao Heng of that time still felt a trace of comfort.

He parked the car on the side of the road. After the explosive anger, that bit of grievance he was never willing to show others began to well up.

He wanted to say, Xiao Qishan changed my university application choices.

What right does he have to change my application choices?

...

But he couldn't get a single word out, because a tender, childish voice came through the phone, a voice that was calling out "Mommy."

He had lived for seventeen years, growing up amidst countless lies and self-consolation, until a needle finally pierced through it all. After he had a falling out with Xiao Qishan.

In the coffee shop, the woman spoke so much to him for the first time. She said, "Being in a family like this, many things are not for you to choose, just like your dad and I getting married and giving birth to you. But my real family, my child, my lover, can never see the light of day." The woman lowered her head, that elegant and noble head of hers, and actually said in a pleading tone, "Don't fight with your dad anymore. I'm begging you."

You were born into this world precisely for this, for this kind of meaningless reason.

What was more terrifying than this realization was: after knowing this, it seemed like nothing mattered anymore.

The pad of his finger felt slightly hot.

Xiao Heng snapped back to reality, realizing the cigarette had burned to the end, scorching his fingertip.

A hand reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

Lu Yan said, "You look pretty down. How about this, I'll sing you a song. For free, no charge."

Xiao Heng: "You usually charge money for singing?"

Lu Yan felt he was being underestimated. Although his band was on the verge of breaking up, they had had their glory days. "For a professional singer like me whose concert tickets are hard to come by, one ticket can sell for three digits, okay?"

A concert, really.

There were only three hundred tickets in total.

Having known him for so long, Xiao Heng was deeply aware of this guy's nature. You could basically only believe half of what came out of Lu Yan's mouth; the other half was all bragging. "One hundred and nine hundred are both three digits."

Lu Yan held up two fingers, waved them in front of him, and said, "One hundred and twenty."

Xiao Heng cut straight to the point, "Did you break even?"

Lu Yan wanted to curse, "...Fuck, do you have to ask in such detail?"

"Promotion fees, venue fees and decorations, equipment, labor, and all the miscellaneous stuff added up to a loss of several thousand yuan."

Lu Yan added, "Don't laugh. Can't you ask about my god-like live performance? Ask how passionate my three hundred fans were?"

Xiao Heng recalled the fanatic male fan they met last time they ate out. The guy was on the verge of tears when he saw Lu Yan. He said, "I know, didn't they throw clothes on stage?"

"They threw all sorts of things," Lu Yan recalled that concert. "Some threw notes on stage. During the interaction segment, I'd pick them up and read them."

"What was written on the notes?" Xiao Heng asked.

There were too many notes.

Confessions of love were the majority.

The one that left the deepest impression on Lu Yan was:

—Happy 3rd anniversary to V-Team, see you at our 4th ヾ(~▽~)!

It must have been a young girl, even using this kind of cute emoticon.

So, amid the boiling sea of voices shouting the band's name, he held that note at the end, looked at all the raised hands, and said into the mic, "See you at our fourth anniversary."

"It said 'see you next year'," Lu Yan leaned against the wall and paused. "Maybe saying this now is unrealistic... but we will meet again."

If Da Ming and Xu-zi hadn't left, this year would have really been the fourth anniversary.

Later, when the two of them returned to Qingcheng, Huang Xu started working at an auto repair shop. Once, a few of them were chatting online, and when this topic came up again, he said, "I fucking cried the whole night. I couldn't understand it, I'm a grown man, where did all those tears come from?" But in all the years since their band was formed, even during the toughest times, Huang Xu had never cried.

Lu Yan didn't understand what it meant to give up.

The word 'give up' did not exist in his dictionary.

But at that moment, he seemed to understand.

Although he didn't hear Xiao Heng's story very clearly, he could pretty much guess from that phrase 'I stopped playing with that stuff a long time ago'.

He had attended classes for Xiao Heng, and he had also seen how vividly the school's forums described him as a useless second-generation rich kid. Even the question he had thought of earlier today after seeing the sunflower painting on the proprietress's phone screen now had a vague answer.

Lu Yan didn't know what to say, and it wasn't his place to say much.

The guitar he had just brought up was beside him. After speaking, he stubbed out his cigarette and changed the subject, "Which song do you want to hear?"

Xiao Heng glanced at him. What came to mind was not some currently popular song.

It wasn't any of them.

He didn't even know the name, nor did he remember the lyrics clearly. He only remembered that voice, the voice he heard when he opened his eyes on the sofa that day.

"That two-hundred-a-night day," Xiao Heng asked, "what was the name of the song that was playing?"

Two hundred a night.

He didn't think much of it when he quoted the price, but hearing it now, why did the line sound so awful?

Lu Yan thought for a moment, recalling Li Zhen's suffocating and psychedelic voice, which had given both him and the young master lying on the sofa quite a scare that morning. "Your taste is pretty unique. That's our band's drummer..."

"Not that one," Xiao Heng interrupted.

Lu Yan: "?"

Xiao Heng said, "The one you sang."

"Oh, that one."

Lu Yan placed his hand on the guitar strings, striking a professional pose. He first strummed up and down a couple of times, setting the key.

Xiao Heng leaned against the side and watched.

He watched as Lu Yan's professional posture and expensive equipment combined, ultimately colliding to produce a very tragic spark.

To summarize in one word: choppy.

From a certain perspective, this person's guitar skills had reached a level that ordinary people could not achieve.

After setting the key, Lu Yan stopped, knocked once on the body of the guitar, and reminded him before singing, "Remember to clap."

"Have you no shame?"

"You also have to shout 'Brother Yan is awesome'!"

"...I'm not listening anymore."

"And you have to say 'Brother Yan sings so well'!"

After saying his piece, Lu Yan's expression turned serious, and he lowered his eyes. The first line was a cappella, and then the stumbling guitar joined in.

The clamorous wind all around had gradually subsided at some point. Besides Lu Yan's voice, there was only the sound of Brother Wei's snores. This man-of-the-street hero, who had just been on TV, was slumped over the table hugging a wine bottle. He didn't know what he was dreaming about, but he chuckled twice happily.

In contrast to his guitar skills was Lu Yan's voice.