Guitarist and Shadowless Kick (1)
Hearing that a new Taiwanese snack shop had opened on the food street behind Guangdong University, Zhao Shihua asked Qiao Xiaoling to go check it out with her over the weekend. Zhuo Siqi went home for the day as usual, while Xu Jiamei had to attend choir rehearsal, so she asked the two of them to take some food back and order whichever dish was popular.
But oyster omelet, fried chicken, squid balls, fried chicken cutlet, and bubble milk tea... all of them seem to be very popular, and the long queue in front proves this point: most of the people in the crowd are college students from the neighborhood, with middle school students in green or red school uniforms interspersed among them.
Zhao Shihua and Qiao Xiaoling inched forward, centimeters slow, their conversation haphazardly revolving around the arts festival. Zhao Shihua had attended the preliminary round of his grade's dance competition the day before yesterday. Zhu Miaoyan's street dance was so captivating, it was like a completely different person. If she usually gave off the impression of a cloyingly sweet macaron, on stage she was like a bottle of lemon-flavored sparkling water, crisp and refreshing, truly impressive. And Jian Tingting's water-sleeve dance was so ethereal that the volunteers spraying dry ice on both sides of the stage worked extra hard, but they nearly overdid it, creating the effect of a northern smog day.
Qiao Xiaoling said that she attended the final of the instrumental music competition held yesterday. It was said that a good-looking boy from Class 11 played a piano piece in a suit and was immediately dubbed the "Prince of Piano" as soon as he got off the stage; and another high school girl in a crimson evening gown came on stage to play the cello and was quickly called the "Cello Princess"; later, a girl in a silver-white dress came up to play the flute and was given the reputation of "Flute Elf"... The audience did not seem to be there to appreciate the music, but rather like a king coming to award noble titles.
After that, they both came to the unanimous conclusion that learning an instrument was indeed the fastest path to becoming a noble. The topic then turned to why the other party hadn't signed up to perform and was merely a spectator.
"I learned a little painting when I was a kid, but the problem is I can't actually perform it live, right? I'm actually quite afraid of going on stage anyway." Qiao Xiaoling pointed ahead, signaling Zhao Shihua to move forward. "What about you, Shihua? You know martial arts, right? Don't you enjoy performing?"
"I don't like it at all!" Zhao Shihua answered firmly. She would rather have a poor memory than recall the scene of throwing the shoes away.
"You too?" Qiao Xiaoling's voice was soft and sticky. "When I was a kid, I was very afraid of strangers. During Chinese New Year, I would hide in my room and not come out."
"I'm pretty much the same," Zhao Shihua agreed, nodding habitually. But she was actually quite the show-off as a child, and she'd done things like show off in front of a bunch of relatives in the cramped living room during Chinese New Year. It was only as she grew up that she changed. "I'm most afraid of performing."
But what she feared came true. Amid the clamor of traffic, she could vaguely make out the three words "Hero Zhao" calling from behind her. Turning back, she saw Shao Yifu, a dozen meters away, trudging towards her, guitar slung across his back. Like a messenger sent from heaven to expose her lies, he reminded her that the past was indelible and that it was too late to hide.
"What are you queuing for?" Shao Yifu looked forward, but seemed to see no end.
"Taiwanese snacks." What Zhao Shihua originally wanted to say was "Can't you look for yourself?", but he finally held back; after all, Qiao Xiaoling was present, and it was not appropriate to argue in person.
"Is it tasty?"
"I don't know. This is our first time here too."
"With so many people queuing up, it shouldn't be bad, right?" Qiao Xiaoling added politely.
"I'm a little hungry now," Shao Yifu touched his stomach unconsciously, "I'm going to practice Tai Chi this afternoon..."
Zhao Shihua, hearing the topic was off, feared he'd bring up the "substitute fight" issue again. Although she'd already rejected him that afternoon with a simple "dream" and countless exclamation points, Shao Yifu was a master of daydreaming. She quickly pointed to the people queuing behind her and said, "It's not good to cut in line. If you want to eat, go to the back."
"...I didn't say I wanted to cut in line." His tone sounded a little aggrieved, and his eyes suddenly focused on something not far away. "My car is here. Bye!"
Zhao Shihua breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the bus would pick him up quickly. After another Sunday, by next Monday, he'd probably forget about it. But just ten minutes later, Shao Yifu's figure reappeared from behind. If the line hadn't reached the store entrance, she would have thought it was a time warp, a reset of the past.
"Why are you back again?!" Zhao Shihua sighed. This guy is simply haunting him.
"My family moved to another place a while ago," Shao Yifu touched the back of his head subconsciously, "so I remembered the wrong bus just now."
Qiao Xiaoling chuckled after hearing this. This certainly seemed like a common mistake made by those who act carelessly, and it was very much in line with Shao Yifu's style. But then again, every time Zhao Shihua started school and moved up to the upper grades, he would occasionally accidentally wander into the wrong classroom—inertia is a powerful force.
"Classmates, what would you like to order?" the boss greeted in a Taiwanese accent. The word "authentic" on the sign should be a guarantee.
"You order first." Zhao Shihua asked Qiao Xiaoling to come forward.
"You go first, you go first, I'll help Jiamei see what she wants."
"Huh? Then I'll have one—" Zhao Shihua had been planning to try oyster omelet, but suddenly realized she didn't know the correct pronunciation of the Chinese character for "蚵." She'd only heard the Minnan dialect version in Taiwanese idol dramas, similar to "e a jian," but she wasn't sure. She faltered for a moment, finally mumbling, "Oh oyster omelet...thank you."
"What is Oh Zai Jian?" Shao Yifu asked loudly like a loudspeaker. Zhao Shihua wanted to grab a lump of mud from the ground and cover his mouth with it.
"Oh, fried oysters," the boss said, speaking a natural mix of Hokkien and Mandarin, gesturing at the last customer who had taken a plate and entered the dining hall. "It's fried oysters and eggs. It's delicious. Hey handsome guy, would you like one too?"
"Okay, okay!" Shao Yifu responded repeatedly, perhaps to cater to the rare title of "handsome guy". Then, without asking for their consent, he turned around and asked the two of them, "Is it okay for me to cut in line?"
"You've already ordered, why are you still asking..." Zhao Shihua rolled his eyes, and the other person's face seemed to have become a few centimeters thicker.
The sound of sizzling emanated from the iron plate as the chef expertly flipped the batter wrapped around oysters, eggs, and vegetables. The aroma filled our nostrils with unbridled abandon. So, the two people who had originally planned to take their food home to school were forced to stay and finish their meal after the boss's repetitive "Please sit, please sit" invitation and Shao Yifu's insistent tugging.
I remember the last time we ate in a small space like this was at a pancake shop. Shao Yifu mentioned martial arts back then, and this time it was about martial arts as well. It was truly unlucky.
Zhao Shihua just wanted to finish her meal quickly, Qiao Xiaoling wanted to get Xu Jiamei's meal quickly, and Shao Yifu probably wanted to go home early. So, aside from a few "delicious!" and "hot!", the three of them ate in silence, the atmosphere eerie as if possessed by three hungry ghosts. Shao Yifu finished first, but didn't leave. He held his temples with one hand, his gaze drifting unfocused over the heads of the two people opposite him, mumbling something indistinct.
Over the cacophony of chatter, Zhao Shihua could faintly hear words like "starting... wild horse... white crane... pipa... sparrow." Sparrow? It should be "sparrow tail." Was Shao Yifu reciting Tai Chi commands or a zoo guide? Seeing his gaze suddenly withdraw, Zhao Shihua quickly lowered her head, avoiding eye contact, and scooped the last morsel into her mouth. Though the soft dough had cooled considerably, it still tasted delicious with the sweet and spicy sauce.
"Have you heard of the twenty 'yes'-style commands?" Shao Yifu spoke so fast that he mixed up the flat and retroflex sounds.
"No."
"How is that possible?"
"That's right!" Zhao Shihua put down his chopsticks and stared at the other person.
"So what were you carrying when you were cutting watermelon?"
Qiao Xiaoling looked back and forth at the two of them, becoming increasingly confused about their conversation.
"I've never practiced Tai Chi. I was practicing Changquan back then." Zhao Shihua slung his schoolbag over his shoulder. "Xiaoling, have you finished eating too? Let's go. Don't take up space. There are people waiting behind us."
"Hey, I haven't finished yet!" Shao Yifu hurriedly picked up his guitar and followed. Once outside, Zhao Shihua turned towards the school without looking back. He quickened his pace to catch up and asked, "Are you really not going to consider it? I don't have to let you replace me, I just think you're more suitable."
"Don't think about it. Forget it. I won't be there. Could you please not be so—" Zhao Shihua hesitated, then retracted the word "selfish" and said, "Also, please don't talk about cutting watermelons and playing mahjong. Such jokes are boring. Every set of boxing has a name. You're learning the 24-style simplified Tai Chi."
From the beginner's five-step boxing to traditional long fist, then onto staff and sword techniques, I also learned the basic twenty-four-posture Tai Chi for group performances. Fist at waist, ha! Fist palm down, hey! Bow stance punch, ha! Spring leg punch, hey! ...
If everyone's growth could be summarized in keywords, some would be Czerny etudes, others the Hua Luogeng Gold Cup, and still others Naruto or Doraemon. Zhao Shihua's trajectory, however, is a chain of these movements, combined with commands and chants. Like stars in the sky, they are connected in various ways, ultimately becoming a constellation story all their own.
Although she had only learned a few scattered martial arts techniques from her master for three or four years, the movements were deeply etched into her body. Even now, every fist-clenching gesture and every standing posture remained in her muscle memory, just as she inherited the way she held chopsticks from her grandfather and learned how to tie her shoes from her grandmother.
Zhao Shihua lay on her bed in the dormitory, her palms outstretched in the darkness. The dim light from the corridor filtered through the frosted glass, making the outline of her hands vaguely discernible. Then she closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and silently chanted "Qi Shi—" like a mantra, and her memory instantly returned to the past.
They stood side by side behind their master. He extended his hand, and they followed suit. He took a step, and they followed suit. Then came the endless repetition, starting with their frantic attempts to misjudge left and right, then slowly progressing to movements faster than the commands. Later, their master retreated backstage, and before them stood the audience, a mix of students from their school and strangers.
The last time I remember performing on stage was at the New Year's Eve party during my first year of junior high. Because I had listed "Martial Arts" as my specialty in my personal information at the start of the semester, my homeroom teacher naturally invited me to perform. She was still performing a form of Changquan, but she incorporated some more challenging moves, like flying kicks.
Because it was her first appearance, she tried her best, and her voice was so powerful that it even drowned out the background music and echoed in the indoor stadium. But after the performance, she was not greeted with adoring applause, but with mocking looks.
—Shihua, you're so manly! Are your muscles particularly well-developed?
——I was worried that the wooden boards on the stage would break if you stomped on them, hahaha!
—You looked so fierce on stage just now. I was scared to death. Are you prone to violence?
"Bang!" The back of his palm hit the wall with a dull thud. Zhao Shihua opened his eyes and heard a soft sigh coming from the bed next to him.
"Sorry." She took her hand back and tucked in the quilt.
"Shihua," Qiao Xiaoling asked her as softly as she could, worried that Xu Jiamei had already fallen asleep, "Can't you sleep?"
"Um, did I just wake you up? Sorry..."
"It's okay, I didn't fall asleep either!" Xu Jiamei suddenly interrupted, startling Zhao Shihua. "I'm still savoring that fried chicken. It was so delicious!"
Hearing Xu Jiamei's voice, the other two couldn't help but laugh out loud: "What? It turns out that no one is asleep yet!"
"I heard you guys say the oyster omelet is super delicious. Let's go there for our next dorm get-together! Invite Siqi along too. She eats in the cafeteria all day long and probably doesn't even know about this new place. Let's take her there to broaden her horizons."
"Okay! Actually, I haven't enjoyed my meal to the fullest today, because Shao Yifu is here too. I'm not very familiar with him, so it's a bit awkward..." Qiao Xiaoling spoke in a lower voice.
"Why is he here to join in the fun?"
"He wants me to perform Tai Chi for him." Seeing Qiao Xiaoling hesitate to continue, Zhao Shihua had to explain himself. "It's clearly the physical education committee member's responsibility, but he actually wants to drag me into it. He's really sick!"
"He often has brain cramps. I've felt this way since the school sports meet. He just keeps on thinking about it. Just ignore him."
Zhao Shihua nodded in bed, then remembered that no one else could see him, so he added, "I absolutely won't agree to him!"
"But, Shihua, speaking of martial arts," Qiao Xiaoling turned over, and the bed creaked. "I remembered something. Do you remember when we took the subway to the Provincial Museum a while ago?"
"Are you referring to the Song and Yuan Dynasty painting exhibition we went to? Of course I remember."
That weekend, Zhuo Siqi and Xu Jiamei were both home. Zhao Shihua, having never been to an art exhibition before, had heard Qiao Xiaoling mention the museum's traditional Chinese painting exhibition. Since Qiao Xiaoling knew a bit about traditional Chinese painting, she decided to go with her.
The subway was packed on Saturday, and after finally getting a seat, Qiao Xiaoling quickly bent down to tie her shoelaces, which had been accidentally stepped on. The weather hadn't turned cold yet, and the collar of Qiao Xiaoling's shirt was probably loose, so when she bent down, she accidentally exposed herself.
Zhao Shihua hadn't known about it at first, but just then, she looked up to check the route map and noticed that a young man standing across from them had his phone pointed at Qiao Xiaoling's collar. She immediately realized her roommate was being secretly photographed, and she flew into a rage, glaring at him and demanding, "What are you doing?"
But the other party pretended to know nothing, his eyes wandered elsewhere, and he put the phone back into his pocket with a casual look.
“Please delete it immediately!”
Zhao Shihua's voice gradually attracted the attention of other passengers. The originally noisy carriage suddenly became quiet. Everyone looked over, but no one said anything to help.
"Neuropathy!!!"
The young man cursed at her, then, seemingly unable to bear the attention, turned and tried to hide in another car. Zhao Shihua, for some reason, became stubborn. Perhaps because there were people around, she assumed he wouldn't dare to do anything, so she stood up and chased after him. The nearby passengers, intentionally or unintentionally, blocked his path, allowing Zhao Shihua to intercept him near the door and loudly command him, "Please delete the photo of my friend!!! Otherwise, I'm going to call the police!!!"
Perhaps the word "police" finally frightened the man, who took advantage of the moment the subway door opened and scurried out. Zhao Shihua wanted to chase him, but Qiao Xiaoling grabbed his wrist from behind and timidly said, "Forget it..."
Zhao Shihua still gets furious when he thinks about it. If there had been enough space, he might have been able to use the grappling techniques that had never been used in combat to defeat the enemy in one move.
"You were so brave back then. I was completely frightened." Qiao Xiaoling spoke slowly, appearing to be struggling. After all, it wasn't a fond memory for her. "Now I think the reason you were so brave and not afraid at all might be related to your martial arts training as a child."
"Ah? There shouldn't be any connection, right?" Zhao Shihua subconsciously denied it, as if worried that if the connection between the two was confirmed, Shao Yifu would grab it and take its place. "I was just too angry. I didn't really think too much about it."
"But I'm afraid he'll retaliate on the spot..."
"No, think about it, he definitely wouldn't dare to move in a crowded place—Hey, is Jiamei asleep?"
They both fell silent at the same time, and after a while, they could faintly hear Xu Jiamei's slow, regular breathing. Choir rehearsal must have been tough. Zhao Shihua gently retracted the hand she had just extended in excitement. Her arm had been exposed for too long, and her fingers were already starting to feel cold.
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