Chapter 11
Chi Ran pulled out the soft tone lever, and when the lingering sound subsided, the pink figure was still half-hidden behind the soundboard.
"How is it?" He raised an eyebrow. "You can feel the gap..."
The woman in pink suddenly jumped up and said quickly, "I...I have something to do, I'll go first!"
Her footsteps were even more hurried than her words, tripping over many things with a clatter. The gust of wind she stirred up swept over him, and before he could react, the door slammed shut.
Qian Yu peeked in and looked around: "It's not time yet, did you yell at her and send her away? She barely touched her cake."
"No, right?" Chi Ran reached for the piece of cake she hadn't finished eating, but found nothing.
"It fell to the ground," Qian Yu said.
Chi Ran frowned with some heartache and slowly got up.
"Don't move! You want more? I'll get you another piece," Qian Yu said. "Don't move around until I finish mopping the floor. Spread this cake evenly for me again."
Chi Ran slowly sat back down, propping her head up as she waited for the next piece of cake.
When Qian Yu brought over the cake, he was still saying, "I told you to be polite to them. If they don't come, we'll be like two old men who can't cook and have to stay behind."
Chi Ran held a small piece of carrot cake in her mouth, not refusing, waiting for the sweetness to melt on her tongue. Eating it this way prolongs the sweetness.
After Huitian disappeared, he finally spoke: "It doesn't matter, anyway, the lockdown will be lifted in a few days."
After the lockdown is lifted, everyone will definitely be running around like crazy, with countless places to go.
No one else would be like him, planting themselves at home like a potted plant, letting them rot away.
“Oh, right, we can order takeout now that the lockdown is over.” Qian Yu nodded. “I’m actually really craving Yang Guofu… Do you think Song Shenneng can make mala tang?”
Chi Ran didn't say anything, but picked up another piece of cake and put it in her mouth.
This dream was more honest than any I've had before.
There were no otome games or fitness companions as a pretext; all that met the eye were slow-burning, unfocused pupils, nimble fingers, and that piano.
“Close your eyes…feel, touch.” His voice rolled down beside my ear.
Beneath him were the haphazardly played piano keys, and before him were his calloused fingertips.
"wrong."
"Put your hand on it."
"Again."
...
After waking up, Song Yihuan sat there blankly. Her palms felt sticky, so she grabbed a damp towel and held it in her hand; it was a little cool.
It's probably because the weather was bad in early spring, the air conditioning was set too high, and my palms were sweaty and sticky for too long, which is why I had this sticky feeling.
The feel is somewhat familiar.
It's similar to the feeling of touching a sticky stove when you were a child sneaking a bite to eat.
Swallowing food whole to satisfy desires, one can't taste anything, only feel greed, followed by shame.
This shame persisted until noon the next day.
Guoguo, while eating noodles, yelled, "Ah!! Your birthday present was returned by courier!! They refunded my money!!" Guoguo frowned, "This store is always out of stock, I finally managed to snag it."
Song Yihuan lowered her head and fiddled with the noodles in her bowl, saying softly, "It's okay, don't buy any more."
Guoguo leaned closer to look at her for a moment, nudged her shoulder, and said with a smile, "What, you don't want it anymore? I'll act it out with you again?"
"No." She turned her head away, unsure of what to do with her hands and feet.
Shame always comes out suddenly, making you feel small and insignificant, and there's no way to escape it.
"Alright, let's act." Guoguo cleared her throat, then took on the roles of both characters, first moving closer to her and mimicking her speech, "Hey Guoguo, stop messing around, I don't want this kind of thing!"
Then Guoguo sat back down and repeated what she had said: "Are you sure? This is the best experience I've personally tried and it doesn't hurt at all."
Then, he leaned closer and mimicked her: "No, no, my mom would kill me if I bought something like this!"
He sat back down and said, "Your mom flew here for two hours. That's enough time for you to grind your toys to ashes and hold a funeral. She'd beat you to death!"
She leaned closer and said, "Please stop talking, I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to..."
He sat back down and said, "Okay then, I won't buy it."
She leaned closer and asked, "Um... do you have any pink ones?"
After Guoguo finished her performance, she put her arm around her shoulder and said, "You're usually so brave that I'm scared of you. Why are you so shy about this?"
Song Yihuan hid her face and elbowed her: "You're usually so timid, how come you're spouting such wild and inappropriate words?!"
Guoguo laughed and said, "Are you still going to perform? If not, I'm placing my order."
She nodded in agreement.
After a long pause, she said in a muffled voice, "Pink."
Guoguo nodded: "I know."
After washing up the lunch, Song Yihuan and Guoguo had a clear division of labor: Guoguo washed the dishes while she went out to deliver the groceries.
After delivering the groceries, it was almost two o'clock. Song Yihuan didn't have time to recall what had happened yesterday and rushed off to find Chi Ran.
She walked to the door, and found Chi Ran inside the room.
He leaned back lazily in his gaming chair, wearing gray headphones. On the table sat a dark green cuboid that looked like a giant game controller.
He tapped the "game controller" absentmindedly, his face turned toward the door.
He arrogantly raised his chin, his empty gaze not falling on her, and provocatively raised an eyebrow: "Why did you run away yesterday?"
His question triggered a sudden surge of shame, which had been building up. She retorted, "Is it any of your business?"
Chi Ran took off his headphones and hung them around his neck, then stood up in front of her. He was very tall with broad shoulders. The sunlight cast his shadow down, enveloping hers.
Shadows overlapped, and suddenly the surroundings darkened.
He was wearing headphones and didn't hear clearly: "What did you say?"
She remained silent.
Too close.
She was so close that if she moved even slightly, the tip of her nose would touch his chest.
A strong, rich scent of pine mixed with a honey-like aroma wafted over, but it seemed to carry the warmth of my body, unlike perfume.
Her nerves skipped a beat, and she unconsciously twitched her nose to sniff.
"Hmm?" he urged.
Feeling guilty, Song Yihuan held her breath and said hastily, "It's nothing."
Chi Ran couldn't see any powder in his narrow field of vision.
He only realized she was almost pressed against his chest after he heard her voice. Her voice carried a faint breath, almost imperceptible.
He tried to back up, but the gaming chair was already against the wall, tripping his knees, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
He had no choice but to reach out and hold onto the monitor, bracing himself and leaning back slightly.
"Don't get so close to me." He held on for a while, but when he felt she was still in the same spot, he had no choice but to speak.
"Oh, oh, oh."
The sound suddenly faded into the distance.
After the interlude, Song Yihuan began practicing the piano, and he sat to the side with his back to the light.
To prevent a repeat of the previous embarrassment, he adjusted the position of the stool several times to ensure that the sunlight shone on her pink hair and that the pink hue was in his sight.
The atmosphere remained delicate.
She played in a flurry of activity, constantly hitting the keys next to her, making a mess of the song.
After she finished playing, she didn't say anything or continue, seemingly waiting for feedback.
Chi Ran paused for a moment before saying, "You need to relax your hands and use your fingertips to exert force. If you keep your hands tense like this, you definitely won't be able to keep up."
"Hmm." She was surprisingly quiet.
"Why did you run away yesterday?" he asked.
Was he speaking too harshly, or is something really wrong?
Song Yihuan didn't answer at all; her hand slammed onto the zither with a loud thud.
The piano music started again, even more chaotic than before.
"You take a break, and I'll give my ears a break too. Let's practice the basics first." He placed his hands on the piano keys, each finger exerting force to play the keys. "Look at me, look at my knuckles."
Song Yihuan didn't retort, but instead said, "Okay."
After he finished playing the first measure, he turned his head and gestured to her: "You come."
Song Yihuan played half a measure before he couldn't help but call out to stop her: "Don't use too much force, your hands are like chicken claws now."
"Can you tell if the hand shape is wrong just by listening?" she asked back.
“Yes, obviously.” He placed his hands on the violin again: “Like me.”
"I can't understand it." There was a hint of defiance in her words.
He said, "Then imitate my hand shape and see the angle of the joints."
"They're exactly the same."
“Then you play,” Chi Ran said.
The piano music started, but the keys were still stuck together, and many keys were played.
He said, "The hand shape is wrong."
"Then what should I do?" she asked, sounding somewhat impatient. "Like this?"
"...Are you sulking?" Chi Ran frowned. "I can't see it."
The air around them suddenly began to move, and her voice abruptly drew closer: "Here's your hand, wave it."
Along with her voice arrived her warm, trembling fingers. Her fingers awkwardly slipped into his palm and drew a circle with even more abruptness.
"Why should I?" he said lazily.
He asked, "Why should I?"
Song Yihuan had reached her limit; her impulsiveness could only sustain her this far.
She didn't need to look to know that her face was red; the air squeezed out of her lungs was burning her palate, making her feel like crying.
My eyes are very dry; the moisture has probably been evaporated by the heat long ago.
"You..." She couldn't even utter a complete sentence, whether out of anger or shame.
Run away.
The next second, when she could no longer tolerate it, the second before she pulled her hand away and ran away—
His calloused palms gripped her fingertips.
Song Yihuan's breath hitched, her heartbeat and heat surging into her brain, roaring and steaming.
"If you're ticklish, don't move around," he said.
If it's because you're ticklish, if it's because you don't want to move, if it's because of some other reason, then... you should let go, right?
But he still held on to it.
His eyes revealed no emotion, no impatience, but also no gentleness; it was easy to discern what he was thinking.
But he still held on to it.
A metronome sits on the piano, its hands swinging rapidly in 4/4 time.
He was still clutching it.
So Song Yihuan also installed a metronome in her mind, 4/4 time.
One…two…three…four…
One, two, three, four.
One! Two! Three! Four!
One! Two, three, four! One, two, three! Four! One, two…
"I'll set it up."
His voice was very soft, but it instantly drowned out the noisy rhythm.
But it couldn't drown out the sound of her heartbeat.
Chi Ran coughed lightly.
He didn't hold it for so long on purpose; he was just surprised and didn't realize what was happening.
She was clumsy when she played the piano and had a rather wild personality, so in his mind, her hands were like her—rough and strong.
That's not actually the case; her fingers were unexpectedly slender and delicate.
His palm felt as if it were brushing against the green branches of early spring, vibrant life blooming from the branches to his palm.
Some symbolize the itching sensation of growth.
That's why I was distracted.
When he said he would help her arrange them, Song Yihuan wanted to relax her fingers, but relaxing them made them tremble and shake. So she had to keep them tense, but if she kept them tense—
"Why are you pinching me?" He held her hand, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Relax."
She relaxed a little, but her index finger trembled slightly.
He pinched me with his calloused fingers, I wonder if he noticed.
He held her wrist with one hand and gently positioned each of her fingers with the other.
After arranging the pieces, he gently placed her hand in his palm, using his palm as piano keys.
"Try playing it."
Song Yihuan mimed playing the piano on his hand.
He laughed: "You should put more force into it, don't just tap it once."
My face was burning hot, but thankfully the heat didn't spread to my palms.
She tried to concentrate and made the popping motion again.
"Okay, right." He removed his hand from hers. "Let's do it again."
She played that repetitive, boring etude again, and when she finished, he said it was good.
What's so good about it? In what way is it good?
How did you play it just now?
I don't remember at all.
Her mind was filled with random thoughts, drifting to unknown places, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp even a single one.
The occasional fragmented images that appear are all late-burning.
Calloused hands, vacant eyes, and that unknown pine resin.
It flickered chaotically.
What are you thinking about?
Chi Ran suddenly spoke up, crossing his legs and leaning closer on the piano bench.
The chaotic thoughts about Chi Ran in Song Yihuan's mind vanished instantly, replaced by his magnified face.
He spoke slowly and deliberately, tilting his head slightly.
"You really want me to sell myself?"
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