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Chapter 22: She Liked Him Since High School

The rehearsal was held at Zhou Shubei’s house.

It was Song Lang’s suggestion—he said Zhou Shubei’s place had more space, a better environment, and during breaks, they could enjoy the flowers and play with the cat. The konghou and drum set were large and heavy, so it’d be troublesome to move them around.

Zhou Shubei: “Building Five, go straight in and turn left.”

Beneath the white walls and dark tiles, the bronze door was slightly ajar, and faint voices came from within.

Jian Li knocked on the door twice with the knocker. After a moment, the door opened from inside, and a snow-white figure darted out, trying to sneak away.

“Tch, trying to become a stray cat?” Zhou Shubei scooped Cotton Candy back up, tapping its head unceremoniously. A cut was visible on his left index finger. “If you get lost again, no one’s going to come looking for you.”

“Meow!”

Cotton Candy struggled in protest, clearly unhappy.

Zhou Shubei scratched behind its ears, then turned sideways, “Come in.”

Jian Li stepped over the high threshold that reached her calves and was greeted by a large courtyard: pavilions, rock gardens, and stone paths that stretched into the distance. Trees were planted throughout, and at the far end, there was a grape trellis with a glass rain cover and a rocking chair beneath it.

Quiet and elegant.

That was Jian Li’s first impression of his home.

A few meters away from the trellis stood a pavilion along a winding corridor. Tan Xueying was tuning her instrument while Song Lang strolled around excitedly.

“This house would belong to at least a third-rank official if it were in ancient times. Open the window and enjoy the view, no one to bother you.”

Jian Li found it strange. “Hasn’t he been here before?”

Zhou Shubei closed the door. “No.”

“Then how does he know your house is nice? And that you have a cat?”

Zhou Shubei’s lips twitched slightly but didn’t answer. He led her through the rock garden and over to the others.

Tan Xueying was cleaning the konghou—a crimson instrument shaped like a phoenix tail.

With everyone present, Song Lang vaulted over the railing.

“So what are we singing?”

They had been debating this for days without a clear decision. Folk, Cantonese, and Mandarin pop were all considered, but they couldn’t find a suitable male-female duet with good adaptation potential.

“If you ask me, folk songs are still the best—widely known, easy to sing as a group, and great for creating a vibe,” said Song Lang.

Tan Xueying disagreed, “Others will probably think of that too. What if we end up performing the same thing as someone else?”

“I picked two songs yesterday. They’re more passionate and energetic,” Jian Li said. “The lyrics and melody are explosive. Both the drum set and konghou can be fully integrated. The school’s event is meant to promote positive energy, so it’ll not only liven up the atmosphere but also inspire the audience. The message behind the performance is solid—and with Zhou Shubei as lead vocalist, it’s even more convincing.”

Zhou Shubei, who was adjusting the mic, raised an eyebrow.

“He’s been top of his class since high school, got into college without taking the entrance exam, ranks first in his major, plays basketball, joins various competitions, and helps others. No one fits the image of a role model better.”

“Whoa, junior, that string of compliments—did you do your research on Zhou? You even know his high school history,” Song Lang exclaimed, acting like he uncovered a big secret. Then something clicked. “Wait, you went to Xiyuan too, right? Zhou Shubei went to Xiyuan for high school. Oh—you’ve liked him since high school!”

!!!

Jian Li’s heart skipped a beat. Just as she was about to speak, Zhou Shubei shoved a cookie into Song Lang’s mouth.

“You knew too? Do you like me as well?” Zhou Shubei said in a low voice. “Isn’t that what the forum says?”

“For real?” Song Lang took a bite. “This cookie’s pretty good.”

Zhou Shubei kicked him, then looked at Jian Li. “What songs? Let’s hear them.”

Jian Li nodded and played the two songs she saved in her music app. After listening, everyone agreed the second one was better. Jian Li pulled a notebook from her bag.

“We can add the konghou here in the intro and interlude, then bring in the drums during the variation. The second chorus can be extended slightly, with both instruments playing. After two rounds of the chorus, the audience should be able to sing along. It can become a group performance.”

“This is my rough plan. What do you think?”

The pages were filled with detailed notes, some lines crossed out, clearly revised multiple times after repeated listening.

Tan Xueying flipped through it. There were more pages with annotations for both songs. “You did all this in just two days? When did you even have time?”

“During class breaks and before bed.”

Zhou Shubei leaned lazily against the railing, Cotton Candy now calm and clutching his hand with its paws. A breeze swept through, causing Jian Li’s hair to fall, and she tucked it behind her ear with her pen-holding hand. Her white-blue scarf covered half her ear, with the exposed part slightly pink—like the first flower bud in early winter, begging to be touched.

“What do you think, Zhou?” Song Lang asked.

Jian Li also turned to look at him, meeting his ink-dark eyes. Her fingers holding the pen instinctively tightened.

Zhou Shubei smiled slightly. “Sounds good.”

The rehearsal went smoothly. After several rounds, Jian Li finally relaxed. When they got tired, Song Lang flopped backward. “I can’t go on. Any more drumming and I’ll get tendonitis.”

Jian Li asked Zhou Shubei where the bathroom was and headed toward the front tower.

The door wasn’t closed, and a familiar sandalwood scent—same as Zhou Shubei’s—wafted out.

She walked up the stairs, saw that all the windows were open. From the second-floor railing, the entire front yard was visible. The handrails were spotless, clearly well-maintained.

Under bright white lights, Jian Li removed her glasses and pinched her nose bridge. She ran cold water over her fingers and gently pressed them to her eyes, trying to relieve the strain. The water was ice-cold.

“Push twice for hot water.”

A low voice spoke up behind her.

Before she could react, Zhou Shubei pressed the top of the faucet. The silver tap lit up with a white temperature reading, quickly adjusting to 37°C, releasing warm steam.

“Thanks.”

The warmth drove away the chill, returning feeling to her cold-numbed fingers. Jian Li carefully washed her hands, then caught a glimpse of her glasses on the counter—and panicked.

She hurried to put them on with wet hands.

“No need to panic, I’m not stealing them,” Zhou Shubei said with a lazy smile, leaning against the wall. His gaze fell on a droplet of water sliding from the corner of her eye. The ends of his eyes were slightly red from the cold, adding a touch of allure.

Zhou Shubei’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why hide such pretty eyes behind glasses?”

She wiped the water off her cheek with the back of her hand and said softly, “I’m a little nearsighted.”

Zhou Shubei chuckled lightly. Jian Li thought he’d call her out, but he didn’t. He just turned and left.

Jian Li followed. The sandalwood scent from him blended with the scent in the tower. “Did you need something?”

“Just passing by,” he said. “Looking for the cat.”

They rehearsed until evening. Song Lang suggested dinner, but Tan Xueying had to go home, and Jian Li wanted to study.

Song Lang shrugged. “Next time, then. I’m heading out too.”

Jian Li packed her things and was about to leave when Zhou Shubei called out, “Wait—I’ll give you a ride.”

She was about to decline, but Zhou Shubei was already inside grabbing his keys.

The car was parked in the backyard. The garage door opened automatically. Zhou handed her a cushion and a pillow. “Get in.”

Warm air blew from the vents. With the pillow, she no longer had to sit with her back stiff. The cushion blocked the cold of the seat, and its sides had soft pom-poms—light yellow with a Pikachu design.

Jian Li squeezed the pom-poms in her hand. “You like Pikachu?”

Zhou Shubei turned on the blinker. “It’s okay.”

“Do you like it?” he asked casually, as if making small talk.

Jian Li nodded, “Yeah. I like it.”

Zhou Shubei smiled faintly. A call popped up on the car’s Bluetooth.

Chairman Zhou.

Zhou Shubei rejected it. A second later, another number called in.

Jian Li pointed forward. “Can we stop? I need to buy something.”

After the car stopped, Jian Li unbuckled and got out.

At the convenience store entrance, a stray cat was hiding from the rain. Soaked, with a scab on its back and missing a patch of fur on one ear, it looked skin-and-bones. Jian Li bought two sausages and asked at the counter, “Do you have any Band-Aids?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take two.”

Outside, she unwrapped the sausages and fed them to the cat.

The tabby stared at her warily, ears perked up, gauging if she was a threat.

“I’ll leave it here for you,” she said, breaking a piece off and placing it on the ground, then backing away.

Seeing her retreat, the cat sniffed, then grabbed the sausage and ran. It devoured it quickly, then returned, eyeing the other sausage in her hand.

“Meow,” the tabby called, inching closer but pausing if she moved.

When Zhou Shubei came out after his call, he saw this scene:

A girl squatting under the eaves, face-to-face with a cat. Every time she moved, the cat flinched. She got up, went into the store, and came back with a cardboard sheet and plastic bowl.

She straightened the cardboard and laid sausage bits on it. Then she poured warm water into the bowl—just the right mix of hot and cold so the cat wouldn’t get sick.

After some hesitation, the tabby trusted her and sat down to eat.

“What happened to your wounds? Did other cats bully you?” Zhou heard her whisper.

Her lashes lowered. Her fair skin glowed under the streetlight. The top of her head was slightly windblown, her hair soft and light.

Hearing footsteps, she turned and gestured for him to stay back, saying “Shhh.”

“I’m going. I hope you get through this winter safely.”

The cat looked at her and meowed softly, like it understood.

She stepped back a bit further, ensuring she wouldn’t scare it, then came down the steps. “Need to buy something?”

Zhou Shubei looked at her. Her eyes were lit with joy after helping the cat—bright and curved, her voice as soft as a mousse cake.

He glanced at the Band-Aids in her hand. “Why’d you get those?”

Jian Li hid her hand behind her back, remembering how he’d refused them before. But she still said, “I saw your hand was cut.”

Zhou Shubei’s eyes darkened.

Before rehearsal, he’d seen an old violin on the shelf—engraved with his mother’s name. It was the only thing she’d left him. He tried to play, but he hadn’t practiced in years and cut himself on the string.

It wasn’t serious. He hadn’t thought much of it.

He stayed silent. Jian Li tried to hide the Band-Aids more, and was about to change the subject when Zhou Shubei reached out.

“Thanks.”

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