Ouyang Guang turned his head to look at Zhang Yixing - this brother who always had "hard work" written on his face, clumsily hiding how much tenderness he had. He always took care of others silently, and even the preparations for surprises were full of clumsy sincerity.
Ouyangguang took a bite of the seaweed rice roll and suddenly asked, "Why did you come to Korea?"
Zhang Yixing looked at the neon lights in the distance and was silent for a while: "Because I like the stage." He turned his head, his eyes sparkling in the night, "What about you?"
"I..." Ouyangguang thought of the sea in Shenzhen, the vinyl records in his father's study, and the feeling of his heart pounding when he first watched a band perform on TV. "Maybe it's the same as my brother."
The night wind blew through the hair of the two, taking away the unfinished words. In the distance, the faint sound of music came from the practice room, and an unknown idol group was sweating for their dreams.
"By the way," Zhang Yixing suddenly took out a small box from his pocket, "birthday present."
Ouyang Guang opened it and saw that it was a pair of drums. The wood was smooth, the top was covered with non-slip glue, and the weight was just right in the hand.
"Looking at the way you play the drums today..." Zhang Yixing scratched his head embarrassedly, "I think I didn't send it to the wrong person."
Ouyangguang stroked his drumstick, and his throat suddenly tightened. He thought of the crying people he saw in Hongdae today - it seemed that the real touching feeling was like this, not the tears caused by the spicy food, not the fake crying in the acting class, but the warm current that surged in the chest, making the vision blurry but warm.
"I'll use it well." He said softly, with a barely perceptible tremor in his voice.
Zhang Yixing patted his shoulder and said, "Let's go, it's time to go. We have early classes tomorrow."
They packed up the trash and took a last look at the night view of Seoul. Ouyang Guang carefully put the drum into his backpack, and suddenly felt that the first day of his fourteenth birthday didn't seem so strange.
When walking to the stairs, Zhang Yixing suddenly raised his head: "Xiao Guang."
"Um?"
"Happy birthday." He said with a smile, his eyes curved into crescents, "Let's celebrate together every year from now on."
Ouyang Guang was stunned for a moment, then nodded heavily: "Okay."
The light in the corridor stretched their shadows very long, intertwining them so that they could not be seen clearly from each other. In the distance came the laughter of the trainees and the intermittent melody from the piano room.
As I walked out of the company building, the night wind from Seoul blew in the moisture from the Han River.
"Actually, when you were playing the drums today..." Zhang Yixing suddenly spoke, kicking the stones at his feet, "you seemed like a different person, not so tense anymore."
"Because we don't have to practice today." Ouyang Guang smiled and looked up at the street lights that made their shadows distorted. In the distance, the windows of the trainees' dormitory were lit, like scattered stars.
He thought of the three crying samples he observed in Hongdae during the day, and the lonely candle in the cake shop, and suddenly felt that those notes about "sadness" were not as real as at this moment - Zhang Yixing would touch the tip of his nose unconsciously when he spoke, the cream of the convenience store cake rubbed against the corners of his mouth, and even the evening breeze carried the lingering sound of the off-tune birthday song.
Downstairs in the dormitory, Zhang Yixing suddenly pulled something out of his bag and stuffed it into his hand: "I forgot to give it to you, I bought it this morning." It was a bag of strawberry-flavored hard candies, with a cartoon cake pattern printed on the package. Ouyang Guang held the candy bag and watched him turn around and walk into the corridor. His back shook before the voice-activated light went out. The candy wrapper made a crisp sound in the night. He held one in his mouth, and the sweetness suddenly made his eyes hot - the feeling of being remembered was more overbearing than strawberries, and it would go down his throat and warm the deepest part of his heart.
The phone vibrated in my pocket. My mother sent me a photo: there was iced mung bean soup on the dining table, and his favorite steamed rice noodles with pork next to it.
Ouyangguang stared at the screen, and suddenly remembered how embarrassed he was when he cried because of the spiciness during the day, and couldn't help laughing. The lights of the Han River Bridge shattered into gold foil on the surface of the river. He touched the jade Guanyin on his neck, and the warm jade stone stuck to his skin, like some kind of gentle confirmation.
On this day, there was no birthday song with family around, no familiar longevity noodles, and even the cake was the stock from the convenience store freezer.
But when Ouyang Guang lay on his bed in the dormitory, he felt that his pillow was filled with starlight - Kim Min-ji's text message, Zhang Yixing's off-tune harmony, Park Chanyeol's noisy farewell, the treasured drum, and the strawberry candy that slowly melted on the tip of his tongue.
This is how you can celebrate your birthday in a foreign country. As long as there is someone who remembers you and an off-tune melody, you can turn the lonely days into drumbeats worth savoring.
Ouyang Guang thought that he would always remember this night - remember how quickly the butter melted, remember the smoke after the candle went out, and remember that someone was willing to draw a small national flag in the chocolate sauce for him.
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