“Chi Yao is going to perform on stage?” Chen Lin asked as soon as she entered the classroom in the morning, as if hoping someone would deny it. “Is it true or not?”
Lin Zhexia was turning in her homework when she broke Chen Lin’s illusion: “…It’s true.”
Since Lin Zhexia said it was true, it must certainly be true.
Chen Lin could hardly believe it: “So it is true. I thought they were just imagining things.”
Tang Shuxuan interjected: “But Chi Yao has such a bad reputation, why do so many people still pay attention to him?”
Chen Lin, as a former fan girl, immediately hit the nail on the head: “Haters are fans too.”
“…”
During the break, Lin Zhexia took the program list from Teacher Xu.
She quickly spotted Class 1 of Year 2 in the Year 2 section.
The program list is clearly stated in black and white: Year 2 Class 1, program: song performance. Performers: Chi Yao, Xu Ting.
Lin Zhexia held the list, unconsciously replaying in her mind the words from last night that had given her the wrong impression.
—”…Do you want to see?”
So was he participating because of her?
…
When you like someone.
It seems you can’t help but hope they might like you back.
But if that person is Chi Yao, she didn’t even dare to have hope.
Lin Zhexia shook the inappropriate thoughts from her head, telling herself he probably just didn’t want Xu Ting to keep bothering him—
After school, Lin Zhexia went to Class 1 to find Chi Yao. Xu Ting was pulling Chi Yao aside to discuss their performance: “We still have half an hour, why don’t you come in and wait?”
Lin Zhexia entered, originally intending to find a seat at some distance from them.
But Chi Yao, while listening to Xu Ting, reached out and pulled an empty seat next to him.
If she avoided it now, it would seem too deliberate.
So Lin Zhexia took off her backpack and sat down beside Chi Yao.
Lin Zhexia explained: “I was afraid I’d disturb your discussion.”
Xu Ting was still talking nonstop about his plans from across the table when Chi Yao said indifferently, “It’s fine, I wasn’t interested in listening anyway.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia took out her homework, planning to use this time to work on it.
Doing homework next to Chi Yao felt like they were deskmates.
The feeling was quite extraordinary.
Sitting in the unfamiliar yet familiar Class 1 classroom, beside Chi Yao, with just enough distance between them that they might touch if either moved their elbow slightly.
Chi Yao noticed she wasn’t writing, and ignoring Xu Ting, he leaned back and asked: “What’s wrong?”
Without thinking, Lin Zhexia spoke her mind: “Like this, we seem like deskmates.”
The words sounded strange once spoken.
So she added: “I just suddenly realized we’ve never actually been deskmates before.”
Although she and Chi Yao were very familiar with each other, when she thought about it, they really had never shared a desk.
In elementary school, she had transferred in and could only sit where there was space, and back then Chi Yao rarely came to school.
In middle school, they weren’t at the same school, and by high school, they were placed in distant classrooms due to their difference in academic performance.
Chi Yao put both hands in his pockets and casually interpreted her words from another angle: “Never having been my deskmate is indeed your loss.”
“…”
“Thinking about it now, I realize it’s a blessing in disguise,” Lin Zhexia wrote the word ‘solve’ next to a math problem and retorted, “Otherwise, I might have lost many years of my life, and possibly wouldn’t have survived until now.”
At this point, Xu Ting interrupted them: “Is anyone even listening to me?”
Lin Zhexia: “Remove the ‘anyone’ and just say ‘you.’ I’m not going on stage with you, so there’s no real need for me to listen.”
Xu Ting: “…”
Xu Ting: “Has your class chosen a poem yet?”
Lin Zhexia had done many things that day, perfectly implementing Teacher Xu’s plan: “We’ve chosen one, and we finished the arrangement during PE class today. We’ll be ready to perform next month.”
“…”
Xu Ting was speechless for a moment.
After saying this, Lin Zhexia began working seriously on her problems.
When she looked up after completing several problems, she found that Xu Ting had left at some point.
The young man sitting beside her had one hand propped on the desk, casually supporting his head as he watched her. He had been waiting for her to finish, who knows for how long.
Seeing her look up, Chi Yao casually remarked: “…Finished, deskmate?”
As if they had become deskmates.
Lin Zhexia felt too awkward to respond directly and changed the subject: “When did Xu Ting leave?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Oh,” Lin Zhexia said, “Did you two finish your discussion?”
“More or less, we chose a song.”
“I saw on the list that it mentioned a sing and play performance. Does he play an instrument? Will one person play, or do both of you have to play?”
After Lin Zhexia finished speaking, she got her answer by observing Chi Yao’s unusually cold expression: “Seems like you’ll play together.”
“Guitar,” Chi Yao said while pressing his temple, “Have to learn it now.”
It was completely predictable that Xu Ting, wanting to show off on stage, would choose the guitar.
But Chi Yao playing guitar…
Chi Yao added finally: “He Yang’s friend has a spare one. We’ll go borrow it this weekend.”
Weekend.
Lin Zhexia also tagged along to He Yang’s friend’s place.
The road was still desolate, and the temperature remained low.
She wore a jacket but didn’t dare enter, waiting for them to come out after borrowing the guitar. She curiously looked at the guitar case in Chi Yao’s hand: “Don’t you need to learn? Why not ask them to teach you while we’re here?”
He Yang interrupted: “You need to understand what ‘spare’ means. ‘Spare’ means he bought it but didn’t have the perseverance to continue. So my friend, he doesn’t know how to play either.”
Lin Zhexia: “…”
He Yang: “But my friend said the song you guys chose has a fairly simple tab, just switching between a few basic chords.”
Lin Zhexia: “If it’s that simple, how come he doesn’t know it?”
He Yang: “…He lacks talent. There’s a difference between seeing with your eyes and playing with your hands.”
Lin Zhexia wanted to say, “Wonder if Chi Yao has talent,” but before speaking, she glanced at Chi Yao’s hands.
Just based on those hands that had dominated He Yang’s Valentine’s Day social media feed.
Learning shouldn’t be too difficult for him.
The group walked toward Nanxiang Street.
Chi Yao wore a black hoodie today. Because of his tall, thin frame, the hoodie looked somewhat thin on him. He slung the guitar case over one shoulder, and walking down the street, he looked very much like the type of delinquent who would crouch on the street corner at midnight with adhesive bandages on his face.
“Stay away from me,” Lin Zhexia suddenly said.
Chi Yao slightly raised his eyelids.
“You look like you’re not from our group.”
Chi Yao: “Oh, which group do I look like I’m from then?”
Lin Zhexia said, “The poor academic performance group.”
“…”
Chi Yao looked like he couldn’t be bothered to respond. Lin Zhexia secretly glanced at him a few more times, and when she looked away, her gaze fell on the opposite side of the street.
There was a group of people gathered near the residential area across the street.
Five or six people, ranging in age from their twenties to thirties, with cigarettes between their lips.
They didn’t look like residents from the complex and were just loitering outside.
Among them, a man wearing a black jacket over a blue striped shirt was frowning deeply, his eyes darting around as if searching for someone.
Lin Zhexia recalled what Lin He had mentioned at the dinner table about “a group of people hanging around the neighborhood.” She had assumed they would be like the idle vagrants she had encountered as a child, but these people didn’t look like what she’d imagined, so she examined them a bit longer.
Perhaps her scrutinizing gaze inadvertently attracted their attention, as the man in the striped shirt suddenly focused his wandering eyes on their group.
Although they were no longer the little kids they once were.
And it was broad daylight with people coming and going, so nothing bad would happen.
Lin Zhexia still avoided the group’s gaze, pretending not to notice, and quickened her pace: “Let’s walk faster.”
Lin Zhexia didn’t need to worry about her own class’s performance, so her attention was all on Chi Yao’s program.
As the school celebration drew closer and closer.
She couldn’t help but ask Chi Yao on WeChat: How’s your practice going?
Chi Yao: Almost there
Lin Zhexia couldn’t help worrying: You’ve never learned before. Can you master it in one month?
Chi Yao:?
Chi Yao’s question mark, without a single additional word, succinctly expressed the meaning “you dare doubt me.”
Lin Zhexia thought about the labor technology class assignments, the scarf, and many other things she couldn’t learn that Chi Yao ended up doing.
She thought to herself that he probably had indeed learned it well enough.
But she still habitually typed: Don’t try to act tough, as your best…
She paused at this point, her fingers stopping on the screen, and after a while, she continued: As your best bro, I definitely won’t mock you.
Chi Yao only replied with two words—
Come over
Lin Zhexia: What do you mean, come over?
My place—
Come see if I’ve learned it or not.
…
Lin Zhexia hesitated for a moment, looking at her phone, but her desire to see won out over other feelings.
A few minutes later, she stood at Chi Yao’s door: “Excuse me, your ordered applause audience has arrived.”
Chi Yao stood at the door: “When did I order an applause audience?”
Lin Zhexia: “If you don’t want it, you can unsubscribe.”
“…”
In the end, Chi Yao didn’t say much more and stepped aside to let her in.
Lin Zhexia sat in the living room and saw the natural wood-colored guitar standing against the wall. Chi Yao’s home had sufficient heating; today, he wore only a very thin shirt at home, paired casually with comfortable lounging pants.
Even though this shirt on him didn’t make him look particularly well-behaved, it created a certain unusual contrast with his face.
“I’m ready,” Lin Zhexia said, sitting up straight while hugging a cushion, “Ready to be amazed by your incredible guitar skills.”
“You should prepare something else,” Chi Yao said.
“?”
“An 800-word reflection paper, I’ll check it tomorrow.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia suddenly remembered the short essay from military training.
She slowed her speech and said, “I think we shouldn’t be too vain. Enjoying reading short essays isn’t a good habit.”
Chi Yao glanced at her without saying more, rolled up the sleeves of his loose shirt a few times, then picked up the guitar leaning against the wall with one hand.
When Chi Yao’s hands pressed the chords, it was much as she had imagined. He moved across the frets easily, his knuckles tense from the pressure. After pressing down, his right hand strummed downward.
Clean, crisp guitar notes poured forth.
There were only the two of them in the room.
The afternoon sunlight that day was gentle, shining in through the half-drawn curtains.
Lin Zhexia watched as the young man’s slender fingers somewhat awkwardly changed positions, while simple chord sounds reached her ears.
This scene was too intimate, momentarily creating an illusion.
As if he were playing just for her alone.
As if he had learned this solely to play for her at this moment.
After this illusion, she felt a bit regretful, regretting that she had helped Xu Ting persuade him to perform on stage.
Because she discovered.
She had become very selfish.
So selfish that she wanted to hide this moment’s Chi Yao away.
To make it a scene that only she could see, existing only in her memory.
When he finished, Chi Yao looked up at her and reminded her: “Miss Audience, aren’t you forgetting something?”
Lin Zhexia came back to her senses and gave him an exaggerated round of applause: “This music should only exist in heaven.”
“I never expected that not only are you good at studies, but your achievements in music and art also far exceed ordinary people.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia racked her brain, using all her knowledge to praise him for a while, then casually asked: “By the way, didn’t you say you wouldn’t perform on stage? Why did you agree after all?”
After a while, Chi Yao finally spoke, but when he answered her, his voice was somewhat lower: “…What do you think?”
These three ordinary words somehow made the atmosphere turn strange.
Lin Zhexia felt inexplicably constrained and hugged the cushion in her arms tightly.
“I…” she said, “How would I know?”
Chi Yao stood against the light from the window, one hand resting on the guitar, the other hanging down. His Adam’s apple moved slightly, as if he had painfully swallowed the true reason.
When he looked up again, he had that irritating expression once more.
Finally, he said lightly: “Because—you were right, someone like me not being on stage would indeed be a loss.”
“…?”