"One iced Americano," Ouyangguang said to the waiter, and then put the cake box on the table. The plastic chairs were hot from the sun, and I could feel the temperature through my jeans.
After the coffee came, he stared at the cake for a long time. The candle was pink and as thin as a needle. Ouyang Guang hesitated for a moment, but still took out a lighter and lit it. The weak flame swayed gently in the air conditioning wind, reflecting his amber eyes.
"Happy New Year." He whispered in Chinese and blew out the candles.
The couple at the next table looked at him curiously, but soon immersed themselves in their conversation. Ouyang Guang scooped a spoonful of cake into his mouth, and the sweetness of the strawberry immediately exploded on the tip of his tongue. It was too sweet, so sweet that it made his throat tight.
Ouyang Guang smiled softly, his eyes a little sour. He looked down at the shapeless cake, and suddenly understood why he was attracted to it - the crooked blessing words, the lonely candle, and the strawberry covered in cream, all resembled some inexplicable longing.
When I left the coffee shop, the sunlight had become much milder.
Ouyang Guang walked aimlessly along the main street, his headphones playing "Butterfly" recommended by Zhang Yixing last night. Hongdae is always very lively on weekends. Street dance clubs battle in the fountain square, and the crowds of onlookers are three layers deep. He took advantage of his height to glimpse the center of the circle——
A girl with dreadlocks suddenly fell to her knees, covering her face and crying. The cheers were so loud that her cries were drowned out like a pantomime. But Ouyang Guang could clearly see her trembling back and the red nail polish peeling off her nails. This was the first time he had seen this today, and he quickly memorized it: when people are extremely sad, they will curl up into a fetal position and not even feel the pain of their nails digging into their palms.
"Hey! Be careful!"
Ouyangguang suddenly took a half step back, and the basketball hit the ground, brushing his nose. The man in the jersey ran over to pick up the ball, smiling apologetically: "I'm sorry, did you hit me?" The sunlight reflected on the man's head, causing Ouyangguang to squint.
"It's okay." He waved his hand and prepared to leave, but heard an argument coming from the basketball court.
"I said I didn't take it!" The man with the headband cried, "Why do you doubt me?"
Ouyang Guang unconsciously stopped walking. The angry crying of the man with the headband was very special - tears and roars broke out at the same time, and the veins on his neck were clearly visible. This was the third example, and he added in his notebook: When sadness is mixed with anger, tears will splash in a jet-like shape, like a Coke that has been shaken.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and a message from Zhang Yixing popped up: "Xiao Guang, are you in Hongdae? Bring me some seaweed rice rolls and spicy rice cakes?" followed by a pitiful bunny emoji. Ouyang Guang looked at the time - 3:10 pm, so he could still go shopping before going to the office.
When we left Hongdae, the sunset had already dyed the sky orange and pink. Ouyangguang bought a few cans of banana milk, seaweed rice rolls and spicy rice cakes, and the bags were heavy in his hands.
When I pushed open the door of the practice room, Zhang Yixing was practicing dancing in front of the mirror. Sweat soaked through his T-shirt, sticking to his back and outlining smooth lines.
Hearing the noise, he turned his head, his hair on his forehead sticking wetly to his skin: "You're finally here, I'm starving."
"Here, I give it to you." Ouyangguang threw the bag over and collapsed on the floor to catch his breath. Zhang Yixing tore open the package of spicy rice cakes, and the heat instantly spread: "What did you see in Hongdae today?"
Ouyang Guang sat up and unscrewed the cap of the banana milk bottle: "Seeing a crying junior high school student, it's quite...real." He didn't go into details, just looked at Zhang Yixing's satisfied expression when he ate - this brother who is four years older than him, his eyes would bend into crescents when he smiled, and he spoke with a smile. Practicing art in a foreign land, Zhang Yixing is like a silent tree, providing companionship in his own way.
"Let's go to the music room and play drums for a while?" Ouyang Guang suddenly suggested. He hadn't touched the drums for a long time, and his fingertips were itching badly. Zhang Yixing nodded and stuffed the last bite of rice cake into his mouth: "Dan, I'll go get the guitar."
The lights in the music room were cold. When Ouyangguang opened the drum kit, his heart beat faster for no apparent reason. The drumstick in his hand felt familiar yet strange. He tested the tightness of the drumhead and took a deep breath. Dong, Dong, Dong, the simple rhythm sounded like a switch that had been sealed for a long time. His blood rushed to the beat of the drums. All his thoughts about "sadness", the pressure in the practice room, and the loneliness in a foreign land were smashed to pieces by the drums.
He played more and more, his body swaying with the rhythm, sweat dripping down his chin onto the drum skin. Zhang Yixing sat on a chair in the corner and played the guitar. The melody gently entwined the drum beats, like a stream flowing over rocks. Just then, the door to the music room was pushed open, and a tall man poked his head in. Under his curly hair were a pair of surprisingly bright eyes: "Hey, you guys are here too?"
The man came in holding an electric guitar, his smile as bright as the sunset outside the window: "My name is Park Chanyeol, I'm here to practice guitar." When he spoke, his voice was loud and full of natural enthusiasm, his eyes curved like crescent moons. Zhang Yixing stood up and greeted him: "I know you, do you often take rap classes?"
"Yes!" Park Chanyeol put his guitar on the table and looked at Ouyang Guang. "Who is this...?"
"Ouyangguang, the newcomer is here to practice." Ouyangguang put down his drumsticks, stood up and stretched out his hand. Park Chanyeol's hands were big, and when he clenched them, he had a sense of strength of a young man.
"Wow, blonde hair!" Park Chanyeol's eyes lit up, "You look like a cartoon character!"
Ouyang Guang smiled unnaturally - this was the Nth time he had heard such comments since coming to Korea. But there was no malice in Park Chanyeol's tone, only pure curiosity and amazement.
"Let's play together?" Park Chanyeol picked up the guitar and plucked a few notes on the strings at random. The sound was clear and bright. Ouyang Guang glanced at Zhang Yixing, who nodded.
Thus, a wonderful ensemble began. Ouyangguang played a brisk rhythm, Park Chanyeol immediately followed the melody, and Zhang Yixing added harmony. The sounds of the three musical instruments collided and merged in the small room, sometimes passionate, sometimes soothing. Park Chanyeol played and sang at the same time, and the off-tune parts would make Zhang Yixing and Ouyangguang laugh. He himself was not embarrassed and laughed along.
Ouyang Guang's drumming became more and more relaxed, and he even shook his head to the rhythm. He looked at the two boys laughing freely in front of him, and suddenly felt something tense in his chest loosen up. There were no scrutinizing eyes like in acting class, no "blonde prince" label, only music and the simple happiness of young people. The sweat was hot, the laughter was genuine, and even the dust floating in the air seemed to be dancing happily under the lights.
It was not until the administrator knocked on the door that the three of them stopped reluctantly.
As Park Chanyeol walked out the door with his guitar in his arms, he turned his head and shouted before leaving: "Remember to call me for the next duet! I just learned a super cool solo!" His voice echoed in the corridor.
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