CS - 46

“Chi Yao is going to perform on stage?” Chen Lin asked as soon as she entered the classroom in the morning, her tone seeking someone to debunk the rumor. “Is it real or fake?”

Lin Zhe Xia was handing in her homework and shattered her illusion. “... It’s real.”

If Lin Zhe Xia said it was true, then it definitely was.

Chen Lin couldn’t believe it. “It’s actually true? I thought they were just imagining things.”

Tang Shuxuan chimed in, “But Chi Yao’s reputation is so bad. Why does he still have so many people paying attention to him?”

Chen Lin, a former fan girl, cut straight to the point: “Black fans are still fans.”

“...”

During break time, Lin Zhe Xia took the form from Old Xu.

She quickly spotted Class One of Grade Two among the list of performances for the grade.

The program sheet clearly stated: Class One, Grade Two – Song Performance with Singing and Playing. Performers: Chi Yao, Xu Ting.

Holding the sheet, Lin Zhe Xia unconsciously replayed the words that had given her an illusion last night.

—”... Do you want to see me perform?”

So, did he join because of her?

...

Liking someone.

It seemed to naturally make her hope he would like her back too.

But if this person was Chi Yao, she didn’t even dare to entertain such expectations.

Lin Zhe Xia shook off the thoughts she shouldn’t be having and told herself he probably just wanted Xu Ting to stop bothering him.

After school, Lin Zhe Xia went to Class One to find Chi Yao. Xu Ting was already there, pulling Chi Yao into a discussion about the performance. “We’ve got half an hour left. Why don’t you come in and wait?”

Lin Zhe Xia entered, intending to find a seat slightly away from them.

But while listening to Xu Ting, Chi Yao casually pulled out the empty seat next to him.

At this point, avoiding it would feel too deliberate.

So Lin Zhe Xia took off her backpack and sat down next to Chi Yao.

“I didn’t want to disturb your discussion,” Lin Zhe Xia explained.

Xu Ting was still滔滔不绝 (tāotāo-bùjué) on the other side, outlining his plans. Chi Yao coolly remarked, “It’s fine. I wasn’t really interested in listening anyway.”

“...”

Lin Zhe Xia took out her homework, planning to use this time to get some work done.

Sitting next to Chi Yao and doing homework felt strangely like being his desk-mate.

This sensation was peculiar.

In the unfamiliar yet familiar environment of Class One, sitting beside Chi Yao, the two separated only by the distance where their elbows might touch.

Chi Yao noticed she hadn’t started writing yet. Ignoring Xu Ting, he leaned back slightly and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Without thinking, Lin Zhe Xia blurted out what was on her mind: “This feels like we’re desk-mates.”

Once the words were out, they sounded a bit strange.

So she added, “I just realized—I’ve never been your desk-mate before.”

Though she and Chi Yao were close, when she thought about it, they had never actually been desk-mates.

In elementary school, she transferred in and had to take any available seat, and back then, Chi Yao rarely attended school.

In middle school, they were in different schools. In high school, their academic performances placed them in distant classes.

Chi Yao, hands stuffed in his pockets, casually claimed her statement in his own way: “Never being my desk-mate truly is your loss.”

“...”

“I thought about it, and it’s honestly fortunate misfortune,” Lin Zhe Xia wrote the word ‘solution’ next to her math problem and retorted, “Otherwise, I might have lost years off my life. Who knows if I’d even be alive now.”

At this moment, Xu Ting interrupted them. “Are either of you listening to me?”

Lin Zhe Xia: “Take out the ‘们’ (plural marker). I’m not performing with you, so there’s no need for me to listen to you.”

Xu Ting: “...”

Xu Ting: “Has your class picked a poem yet?”

Lin Zhe Xia had accomplished a lot that day, perfectly executing Old Xu’s plan. “Yes, and we finished rehearsing during PE class today. We can go straight on stage next month.”

“...”

Xu Ting was momentarily speechless.

After speaking, Lin Zhe Xia began solving problems earnestly.

When she finished a few questions and looked up, she realized Xu Ting had disappeared at some point.

The boy sitting next to her had one hand resting on the desk, lazily propping his head up 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, “... Done, desk-mate?”

As if they were truly desk-mates.

Lin Zhe Xia felt awkward responding and changed the subject. “When did Xu Ting leave?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Lin Zhe Xia said, “So have you guys finished discussing?”

“More or less. We picked a song.”

“I saw on the list that it says ‘singing and playing.’ Does he play an instrument? Is he playing alone, or are both of you playing?”

After Lin Zhe Xia spoke, she deduced the answer from Chi Yao’s unusually cold expression. “Looks like you’re both playing.”

“Guitar,” Chi Yao said, pressing his temple. “We’ll have to learn it first.”

Xu Ting wanting to show off on stage made choosing the guitar entirely predictable.

But Chi Yao playing the guitar...

Finally, Chi Yao said, “He Yang’s friend has a spare one. We’ll borrow it this weekend.”

________________________________________

Weekend

Lin Zhe Xia tagged along to He Yang’s friend’s place to see the commotion.

The roads were still bleak, and the temperature was a bit low.

Wearing her coat, she didn’t dare go inside. After they finished borrowing the guitar, she curiously glanced at the guitar case in Chi Yao’s hand. “Aren’t you supposed to learn it? Why didn’t you ask him to teach you?”

He Yang interjected, “You need to understand what ‘idle’ means. Idle means buying it and then not having the perseverance to stick with it. So my friend—he doesn’t know how to play either.”

Lin Zhe Xia: “...”

He Yang: “But my friend said the song they chose has a relatively simple score, just a few basic chords switching back and forth.”

Lin Zhe Xia: “It’s so simple, and he still can’t do it?”

He Yang: “… He lacks talent. Watching with your eyes and playing with your hands are two very different levels of difficulty.”

Lin Zhe Xia wanted to say, “I wonder if Chi Yao has talent,” but before she could, she glanced at Chi Yao’s hands.

Just looking at those hands that had once dominated He Yang’s Qixi Festival social media post...

Learning wouldn’t be too difficult, right?

The group headed toward Nanxiang Street.

Chi Yao wore a black hoodie today. Because of his tall and slim build, the hoodie looked thin on him. With the guitar case slung over one shoulder, he looked like one of those delinquent teens who might squat by the roadside late at night, with a band-aid stuck to their face.

“Stay away from me,” Lin Zhe Xia suddenly said.

Chi Yao’s eyelids flickered slightly.

“You look like you’re not from the same group as us now.”

Chi Yao: “Oh, then which group do I look like I belong to?”

Lin Zhe Xia said, “The group that doesn’t study well.”

“...”

Chi Yao looked like he couldn’t be bothered to respond. Lin Zhe Xia stole a few more glances at him. When she finally looked away, her gaze fell across the street.

Across the street, a group of people gathered near the neighborhood.

Five or six of them, their ages ranging from their twenties to thirties, cigarettes dangling from their mouths.

They didn’t look like residents of the community—they kept wandering around outside.

One man wearing a black jacket over a blue striped shirt frowned tightly, his gaze shifting restlessly as if searching for someone.

Lin Zhe Xia remembered Lin He mentioning at dinner about “a group of people hanging around the neighborhood.” She had assumed they’d be like the unemployed drifters she encountered as a child, but these people didn’t seem to fit that image. So she gave them a few more curious glances.

Perhaps her lingering gaze inadvertently caught their attention. The man in the striped shirt, whose restless eyes had been wandering, suddenly focused on their group.

Though they were no longer little kids, and it was broad daylight with people bustling about, nothing dangerous should happen.

Still, Lin Zhe Xia avoided their gaze, pretending not to notice, and quickened her pace. “Let’s hurry up and go.”

Lin Zhe Xia didn’t need to worry about her own class’s performance; all her attention was on Chi Yao’s program.

As the school anniversary approached, she couldn’t help but ask Chi Yao on WeChat: How’s your practice going?

Chi Mou: More or less.

Lin Zhe Xia couldn’t help but worry: You’ve never learned before. Can you really learn in just a month?

Chi Mou: ?

This question mark from Chi Yao didn’t include any extra words, but it succinctly conveyed the meaning, “How dare you doubt me?”

Lin Zhe Xia thought about the labor tech assignments, the scarf, and countless other things she couldn’t figure out that Chi Yao ended up doing for her. She figured he must have indeed learned enough.

But out of habit, she typed: Don’t push yourself too hard. As your best...

She paused here, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a moment, she continued: As your best buddy, I definitely won’t laugh at you.

Chi Yao replied with just two words:

Come over.

Lin Zhe Xia: What do you mean, come over?

My place.

Come see if I’ve really learned it or not.

...

Lin Zhe Xia hesitated for a moment, staring at her phone. Her curiosity won out over everything else.

A few minutes later, she stood at Chi Yao’s doorstep. “Excuse me, the clapping audience you ordered has arrived.”

Chi Yao stood at the door. “When did I order a clapping audience?”

Lin Zhe Xia: “If you don’t want it, you can cancel the subscription.”

“...”

In the end, Chi Yao didn’t say anything more. He stepped aside and let her in.

Lin Zhe Xia sat in the living room and saw the natural wood-colored guitar standing against the wall. Chi Yao’s house was warm, and today he was wearing a very thin shirt indoors, paired with casual, homey pants.

Even though this shirt didn’t make him look particularly obedient, it created an odd contrast with his face.

“I’m ready,” Chi Yao said.

Lin Zhe Xia hugged a cushion, sitting upright. “Ready to be stunned by your amazing guitar skills.”

“You might as well prepare something else,” Chi Yao said.

“?”

“An 800-word reflection essay. I’ll check it tomorrow.”

“...”

Lin Zhe Xia immediately recalled the short essays from military training.

She slowed down her speech. “I think being vain isn’t good. Enjoying reading essays isn’t a healthy habit.”

Chi Yao glanced at her and didn’t say anything more. He rolled up the wide sleeves of his shirt a few times, then picked up the guitar leaning against the wall with one hand.

When Chi Yao pressed the chords, it was much like she had imagined. His fingers moved effortlessly across the frets, his knuckles taut from applying pressure. After pressing down, his right hand strummed downward.

Clean, crisp notes flowed out.

There were only the two of them in the room.

The afternoon sunlight was gentle, filtering through the half-drawn curtains.

Lin Zhe Xia watched the boy’s slender fingers clumsily change positions, the simple chords ringing in her ears.

The scene was intensely private, giving her the fleeting illusion that he was playing just for her.

As if learning this was solely for the purpose of playing it for her at this moment.

After the illusion passed, she felt a pang of regret for helping persuade him to take the stage.

Because she realized...

She had become petty.

Petty enough to want to hide this moment with Chi Yao.

To make it a scene that only she could see, existing solely in her memory.

After finishing, Chi Yao looked up at her and reminded her, “Audience member, didn’t you forget something?”

Lin Zhe Xia snapped back to reality and exaggeratedly applauded. “This melody should only exist in heaven.”

“Who would’ve thought that not only are you good at studying, but your musical talent far exceeds that of ordinary people.”

“...”

Lin Zhe Xia racked her brain, using every ounce of knowledge she had, praising him endlessly. Then she casually asked, “By the way, didn’t you say you weren’t going on stage? Why did you agree?”

After a long pause, Chi Yao finally spoke, his voice lowered when answering her. “... What do you think?”

These three unremarkable words made the atmosphere turn strange.

Lin Zhe Xia felt inexplicably constrained, hugging the cushion tighter.

“I...” she said, “How would I know?”

Against the light from the window, Chi Yao rested one hand on the guitar, the other hanging loosely. His Adam’s apple moved slightly, as if swallowing the real reason with difficulty.

When he looked up again, he was back to his usual annoying self.

Finally, he said lightly, “Because—what you said was right. For someone like me, not going on stage would indeed be a loss.”

“…?”