Chapter 49: Singing

The wind blew from afar, and the deep blue clouds rolled and swirled, drifting along with the wind. The wind chased the clouds like waves surging forth. A small hole opened in the sky, and the moon quietly slipped into it, allowing moonlight to leak through, casting a hazy glow on everything below.

Su Nianmei wrapped her arms around Gu Xichao’s waist, her head resting on his shoulder, nestled in his embrace. She pointed at the sky and said, “This moon is really round.”

Gu Xichao’s eyes were half-closed, but his mind drifted back to that night of the Mid-Autumn Festival when Su Nianmei had sung. She wore light makeup, a simple cheongsam with a fishtail braid, and her eyes were clear and bright. He raised his hand and gently touched Su Nianmei’s short hair.

Su Nianmei lifted her head, her dark pupils fixed on him. “What’s wrong?”

Gu Xichao spoke, “Sweetheart, can you sing me a song?”

Su Nianmei felt a bit shy, but she began to sing.

“If I had never met you, where would I be, and how would my days have been…”

It was Teresa Teng’s “I Only Care About You.” The song was somewhat old, but it matched their current mood.

The girl’s voice was clear, the final notes carrying a hint of weariness yet also a touch of languor. Gu Xichao was taken aback; he hadn’t expected Su Nianmei to sing this song.

He reminisced about the past.

Back then, Su Nianmei was still in high school, and Gu Xichao had just encountered her again. The child had a head full of short hair, which looked like it had been cut by herself, the ends uneven and layered.

She wore a blue school uniform nearly faded from washing, always carrying a black backpack almost half her height. The straps hung loosely, and when she ran, the backpack bounced up and down, the little bell attached to it jingling “ding-ling” with each step.

The child didn’t know why she had been coming home later than usual those days. Several times, Gu Xichao returned from working overtime late at night and could still see her darting past his door, mumbling to herself as she ran, not quite able to make out what she was saying.

He lived at the corner of a small alley, which was a necessary path for the child after school.

The alley was old, with streetlights that had been broken for many years and were never repaired. At night, it became pitch dark. The middle school students disliked that route; they often encountered small-time delinquents blocking the way, and most other students would rather take a longer path than walk through there. Only this child passed through every day, looking around as she went, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

That evening, Gu Xichao went to the alley entrance to throw out the trash and spotted a familiar figure running ahead. It had just rained, and the concrete ground was covered with big and small puddles, deep and shallow.

The moonlight illuminated the puddles, making them shine brightly, clearly reflecting everything, including the shadows of those who passed by.

Gu Xichao quickened his pace, but the child ran even faster.

Suddenly, she tripped over a stone at her feet and fell to the ground with a thud.

He hurried over to her. The child didn’t seem inclined to get up; her hands were in a puddle, her features scrunched up, her eyes tightly closed, and her eyelashes trembling uncontrollably.

Now, he could hear clearly what the child was saying: “Prosperity, democracy, civilization!”

As she spoke, she seemed to forget the lyrics, her brows furrowed in concentration as she trembled. The little bell on her backpack jingled in response, making a “ding-ling” sound.

“Harmony, integrity, friendliness,” he squatted down and added.

The child’s dark eyes turned toward him, her nose sniffing, her face one of shock. “Even a ghost can recite this!”

Gu Xichao furrowed his brow.

Suddenly, the child grabbed his wrist; it was warm and filled with life. She exclaimed in surprise, “You’re not a ghost!”

With a hint of a cry in her voice, she continued, “I was reciting the lyrics so well,” she said, her nose twitching, followed by a hiccup. Her eyes sparkled with moisture, and the corners of her mouth turned up. “You scared me so much that I forgot!”

He helped her up, and the child wiped her face with her hands, smeared with both snot and tears.

She didn’t recognize him and pushed him away, stumbling as she ran back home. He felt uneasy and followed her until she reached her house.

Before long, the child emerged from the yard, buried a crumpled paper under a tree, and bowed three times before it before returning indoors.

—o—o—o—

“You say you’re about to leave,

I will lose myself,

—Walking into the boundless sea of people.”

Gu Xichao closed his eyes and softly joined in the singing. His voice, a blend of youth and young adulthood, was clear yet magnetic, carrying an air of storytelling with a touch of sadness.

Su Nianmei abruptly fell silent, her eyes widening in surprise. “You know how to sing this song now!”

Gu Xichao snapped back to reality, his pupils flickering. “I’ve listened to it with you enough times to learn it.”

“Well, you’re much better than me. I practised for ages and still couldn’t get it.”

“Back then, our class… our village was going to hold a choir competition, and this was the song they chose. I was slow to pick up skills, and there was little time and a heavy workload. To avoid falling behind, I stayed at the village committee at night to practice this song.”

“I wasn’t as good at singing back then; I often went off-key. But I eventually managed to learn the song. Want to guess how I overcame that off-key habit?”

Gu Xichao remained silent, prompting Su Nianmei to continue.

“I annotated the melody of the lyrics, marking the tones, and memorized the melody using pinyin.”

She sniffled and added, “I learned this method because of an opportunity. Do you want to hear about it?”

Gu Xichao chuckled lightly, a hint of undisguised affection in his eyes. “Sure.”

Feeling slightly shy under his gaze, Su Nianmei said, “I think I’m someone blessed by the gods. You’d better treat me well from now on.”

As Su Nianmei said this, she shook her head and bobbed around, perhaps a little childish from spending too much time with Gu Xiaobao.

“When I was stumped by the choir, I secretly wrote a note and buried it under the tree. The next morning, I found a paper airplane on my desk, not knowing who had thrown it down.”

“I initially planned to throw it away, but I noticed that the paper airplane was filled with handwritten lyrics, so I took it apart. The lyrics had pinyin added on top, and when I read them out, they matched the melody perfectly.”

Su Nianmei sighed deeply. “From then on, I had an epiphany!” After that, she mused, “Ah, those were the days of youth!”

Gu Xichao patted her on The Director, but Su Nianmei suddenly jumped up as if realizing something. She stood up and exclaimed, “I have to go now!”

Halfway to the door, she turned back, pointing at the iron railing behind Gu Xichao. Her movement was so exaggerated that her shoulder-length hair swayed along, and she shouted, “We’ll meet here again tomorrow night!”

Gu Xichao watched Su Nianmei’s retreating figure, a low hum escaping his lips, the weariness on his brow lifted in an instant.

“No matter how swiftly time passes, I only care about you.”

A lazy little cat lying on the ground shook its body and slowly crawled over to Gu Xichao’s feet, rubbing its face against his pant leg.

“Meow.”

—o—o—o—

At noon, the sun blazed down, and the students undergoing military training suffered greatly in the heat. Su Nianmei stood under the sun, sweat streaming down her neck as if a faucet had been turned on.

Su Huailin held Gu Xiaobao’s left hand and Er Gouzi’s right, walking through the verdant campus of Peking University.

Gu Xiaobao spotted the small car parked under a tree for the third time. He lifted his head, tugged at Su Huailin’s hand, and asked, “Uncle, did you take a wrong turn?”

Su Huailin was equally puzzled. He had no idea who had designed the layout of Peking University; after wandering around the building for a while, he still couldn’t find the training field where Su Nianmei and the others were practising.

“Uncle, if you don’t know the way, you can ask the older brothers and sisters nearby,” Gu Xiaobao suggested.

A line of black threads appeared on Su Huailin’s forehead. If he wanted to ask for directions, he would have done so by now. He was essentially still a simple rural boy; most university students had begun to dress up as they entered college. Seventeen-year-old Su Huailin watched as the vibrant, well-dressed students walked past, both yearning for their confidence and feeling a bit shy.

Continuing to search like this wasn’t going to work. The two children’s faces were flushed from the heat. Su Huailin cast a glance and spotted a man in military uniform by the roadside. He adjusted the cloth bag hanging around his neck and walked over.

Before he could reach the man, the two kids darted out ahead of him.

Gu Xiaobao saw the newcomer and excitedly shouted, “Uncle Ji!”

Er Gouzi followed suit, calling out, “Uncle, Uncle!”

As Ji Yuan got out of the car, he noticed Gu Xiaobao running towards him, with Er Gouzi waddling behind, puffing and panting.

Ji Yuan stood with his long legs together next to the car door, holding a small gift box in his right hand. He responded to the two children while keeping his eyes fixed on the boy.

Having just returned home today, Ji Yuan’s grandmother, Grandma Ji, had mentioned that Su Nianmei was undergoing military training and insisted that he take the gift to her.

He hadn’t expected to run into the small child he had seen in the countryside before.

In the midday sun, the boy cradled a watermelon in a bag, with his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead, looking particularly docile. He held hands with the two children on either side.

Ji Yuan had been sitting in the car for quite a while, and it was only after the trio passed his vehicle for the third time that he finally adjusted his clothes and stepped out.

“Where are you all headed?”

“We’re going to find Mom with Uncle!”

“Uncle?” Ji Yuan’s tone rose in surprise. Was this child Su Nianmei’s younger brother?

Ji Yuan glanced at Su Huailin and said, “Let’s go.”

Su Huailin blinked and replied with a quiet “Mm,” a hint of suppressed laughter tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Only then did Ji Yuan realize that the child had just taken advantage of him.

—o—o—o—

In the room, Father Su and mother were anxiously pacing back and forth.

Mother Su sat on the bed, her once lively demeanour now faded. She leaned closer to Father Su’s ear and whispered, “What are we going to do about Su Nianmei? Didn’t you hear that young man who brought us here say that if her family finds out, we might end up in prison?”

With a dry cigarette clamped between his lips, Father Su exhaled smoke rings that spiralled upwards, his face shrouded in white mist. He looked at Mother Su but remained silent for a long time.

Seeing her husband’s silence fueled her anger. She snatched the cigarette from Father Su’s mouth and threw it to the ground, where it made a crisp sound upon impact. “Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! That’s all you ever do!”

“If it weren’t for you insisting on bringing that child home back then, would we have fallen to this state?”