Chapter 38
Why do you ask?
Song Yihuan opened the door to the dressing room, and the warm-up music squeezed into the room as she moved.
Qian Yu himself didn't understand why he was asking this question, and remained silent.
"What's the problem? Is it outdated or not?"
She didn't answer, and after venting her frustrations, she didn't even look at him before walking away on her own.
Chi Ran was already waiting for her in the waiting room. She made an excuse to slip out and hurried back.
"Go through it again?" Chi Ran asked.
Song Yihuan touched her slightly sweaty palms and said, "Pass."
The waiting room was relatively spacious and well-soundproofed. They simulated the positions on stage, one standing and one sitting, one on the left and one on the right. "Ku" is a traditional Chinese style song, so their stage and costumes were also in a traditional Chinese style.
It was supposed to be a practice session for stage movement, but in reality, only Song Yihuan needed to move around. Chi Ran played the piano behind the screen the whole time, and the audience could only see his silhouette.
"Put down the microphone before the final crescendo, then start walking towards me." Chi Ran listened to her chaotic footsteps. "Don't sing the last two high notes while walking, be steady."
Song Yihuan said in distress, "How could that be? The ending design is that I'm with you behind the screen, and I'll be on the other side of the stage when you sing the high notes. If I don't leave in advance, it will be too late."
“There’s still time,” Chi Ran said.
"Too late!"
Song Yihuan watched the rehearsal video again. She sang the high notes as she walked behind the screen where Chi Ran was. Even so, she was still rushing when singing the last three lines of the lyrics. She didn't arrive until the lights went out at the end.
As she watched, she explained to Chi Ran, "Look, look, look, I'm still rushing here, and this time the lighting technician was a second late in stopping the lights."
After watching it, she said with certainty, "Impossible, there's less than a five-second interval between the high notes and the last few sentences."
Chi Ran laughed and said, "Then run faster."
Song Yihuan punched him lightly: "My dress is very pretty! Who would run away wearing such a pretty dress?"
That's the truth. She was wearing a flowing, ethereal red dress with a traditional Chinese style, the hem of which swayed in the wind, shimmering and sparkling.
"So, do you want a pretty person or a beautiful song?" Chi Ran asked her, rubbing his shoulders.
Song Yihuan said somewhat stubbornly, "They all have to be beautiful."
Chi Ran smiled and reached out to pinch her cheek: "Then you can stand still and finish singing the high note, then slowly walk over. You'll have enough time."
Seeing his confident expression, Song Yihuan understood.
What he meant by "there's still time" is probably forcing the lighting technician to adjust the ending lights later, and then both of them getting yelled at offstage, right?
...Let them curse if they want.
Nothing is more important than a perfect farewell.
Right?
The vast lawn was now pitch black, all beams of light had ceased, and only scattered specks of light from the night sky seemed to fall faintly.
The crowd below the stage was shoulder to shoulder, their eyes gleaming in the darkness as they eagerly gazed at the stage.
The evening breeze brought a cool, fragrant scent of grass, easing the lingering heat of late spring. The darkness then stretched out the senses, making them feel long and still—
Suddenly, the clear sound of the guqin, like a spring, flowed out, light and free, as if it were blowing in with the evening breeze.
Chi Ran sat upright behind the screen, slightly raising his hand, and the flowing zither music gradually faded away with his movement.
The moment his hands fell again, a soft beam of light shone along with the music, and his shadow was projected onto the screen.
The restless crowd below the stage fell silent instantly, all senses focused on his fingertips.
"The secluded spring reflects my detachment, peach blossoms follow the water, swirling and swirling..."
The spotlight slowly unfolded like a scroll painting, and Song Yihuan, dressed in red, walked out like a figure in a painting.
Her clear, melodious voice was like a gift from the Milky Way, her singing connecting heaven and earth, embracing everyone as if listening to the whispers of a spring.
Gradually, soft light illuminated the lawn below the stage, like another galaxy gently reflecting on all the audience.
It draws people into the song.
Only after the verses were finished did Song Yihuan's pounding heartbeat gradually slow down, allowing her to return the singing to her earpiece.
She was so nervous that she couldn't even be sure how well she sang the first few lines.
But she soon found out.
During the interlude, she put down the microphone, and her gaze finally stopped darting away and fell on the audience area.
There were many focused and enraptured faces there. Tell her, "You sang very well, and you coordinated very well."
She glanced behind the screen not far away, and Chi Ran's fingertips danced, the interlude like a dried-up spring's narration, slowly telling the story and pulling people into the spring's tale.
As she spoke in such a clear and calm tone, her tension gradually eased.
She gradually turned her head in a certain direction.
A direction she had been deliberately avoiding, a direction she dared not face.
Sister Xin Xin stood in the corner of the stage, holding up her GoPro.
She looked through the crowded but focused throng and gazed at the GoPro, as if locked in a long, drawn-out stare with Ms. Wang.
"What are you trying to do?!" Song Yihuan collapsed onto the outdoor table, almost screaming, "I will finish the performance no matter what, no matter what!"
It was late at night, and the once bustling late-night food street had become dark and quiet. The shop signs had all dimmed, and her shouts echoed through the street several times before finally subsiding.
Sister Xin Xin was stunned for a long time before slowly explaining her purpose.
"I...I didn't expect you to run into me. My aunt sent me, but...but it's not what you think."
"My aunt asked me to bring a good camera to record a video for you," Xin Xin said. "She has to take care of Grandma lately and can't get away, but she said..."
“I want to see what she’ll do.” A rare look of gentleness and confusion appeared on Ms. Wang’s usually sharp and strong face. “She loves singing and the stage. She performed on stage after the college entrance exam, but the venue was very small. At that time, I was busy criticizing the stage, thinking that this was unsafe and that was unsafe, so I didn’t have time to appreciate it.”
Ms. Wang sent Xin Xin a large red envelope and continued to plead, "I don't know what kind of video recording is good, so go borrow the best one and record it for your aunt to see..."
"...You can imagine how much I hate her. She finally came back, and she had to argue about all sorts of trivial things. I didn't even have time to tell her that I was happy she was back."
A crack appeared in Ms. Wang's ever-strong expression, which then crumbled, revealing her inner timidity and fear.
This was the first time Song Yihuan had ever seen these things.
Song Yihuan scrolled through the WeChat Moments post that Ms. Wang hadn't liked, and tears streamed down her face.
Xin Xin sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulder: "My aunt specifically told me not to let you know I'm here, because she's afraid that if you see me you'll think of her and you won't sing well if you're not happy."
“Auntie just can’t accept it,” Xin Xin said. “If you don’t come home, she’ll miss you; if you do come home, she’ll hate herself for not being able to save you.”
Song Yihuan murmured, "I understand, I've always understood..."
Just as Qian Yu unilaterally defended Chi Ran without seeing her suffering, Song Yihuan also unilaterally rebelled without seeing Ms. Wang's suffering.
"You don't know about your aunt's matter, do you?" Xin Xin asked.
"What?"
“My aunt made the decision to perform a nerve block on my aunt and also had her sign a consent form to give up treatment.” Xin Xin gently wiped away her tears. “I knew she probably didn’t tell you.”
She couldn't say.
She couldn't tell her seriously ill daughter, "I personally allowed your aunt's death, so I will also allow yours."
Just like she never told Song Yihuan that she was scared, missed him, or couldn't bear to part with him.
If Ms. Wang had shown even the slightest weakness, she wouldn't have been able to hold on until today.
Before the second verse began, Song Yihuan looked at Ms. Wang through the inorganic device, gazing into her ever-steadfast eyes.
She used to mistake rebellion against Ms. Wang's rules for freedom; following the rules was a narrow path, but she walked another narrow path—confronting and breaking down the rules one by one. During her escape, she had only a narrow kind of freedom.
The moment she made up her mind to go home, her narrow freedom transformed into a vast wilderness, where Ms. Wang stood.
What kind of mother is Ms. Wang?
From childhood to adulthood, she has heard countless people say, "Your mother is so scary," "Your mother is so controlling," and "Your mother is so fierce."
But Song Yihuan was never afraid of Ms. Wang. She dared to talk back to Ms. Wang, and she could be angry or even hate her, but she was never afraid.
Although Ms. Wang's appearance and body do not resemble her mother's.
She was thin and fierce-looking, and her body was so hard it hurt.
Even in the communal hospital beds, she would always fall asleep nestled in this uncomfortable yet warm embrace. From childhood to adulthood, whether she was cold, hot, or thirsty, even when her father was still alive, her first instinct was to call for her mother.
Many fragmented memories flooded in, and she took a quiet, deep breath.
She recalled that not long after she fell ill, when she was vomiting due to the side effects, Ms. Wang frowned and asked her fiercely if she dared to go out in the wind again, while catching her with her bare hands without changing her expression.
Ms. Wang's strong will always hurts people.
But if she weren't strong, if she gave up easily, how would she survive?
How should she face those cursed loves in her life?
Song Yihuan quietly wiped the corner of her eye and smiled.
She raised her hand, her fiery red dress fluttering, and reached out to Ms. Wang. Her wide sleeves were lifted by the wind and danced in her direction.
Mother.
I'm scared, I'm so scared I'm about to die.
Hold me back, Mom.
I hate cold, impersonal equipment, I fear the unknown side effects, and I resent the unfairness of fate, but these are not your fault. Mom, I shouldn't have said that; I've never blamed you for a single moment.
Before she ran away from home, she said such hurtful things.
"Aren't you selfish?"
"Since you care so much about whether I get sick, and have controlled me like this since I was a child..."
"When you married my dad and had me, didn't you ever think that I would end up like my dad and my grandfather?"
Why did you give birth to me?
Look, fate is truly vile and despicable.
After cruelly putting pen to paper, he quietly disappeared, leaving behind a helpless and innocent mother and daughter, hurting and resenting each other.
Ms. Wang had no choice but to remain silent in the face of the accusations of being willful and reckless.
When Xin Xin brought Ms. Wang's reply to Song Yihuan, she made up her mind to go home.
She thought Ms. Wang would tell her reasons such as the lack of knowledge and advanced technology at that time. She also thought Ms. Wang would be angry and criticize her for being ungrateful and ungrateful...
But none of them were there.
Ms. Wang's strong exterior shattered like porcelain, with fragments peeling off along the cracks to reveal her fragile interior.
As she spoke, she slightly raised her head, as if gazing across vast stretches of time and space at her innocent yet unfortunate daughter. Her voice trembled with a mixture of bewilderment and a sob:
"If only I had known, if only I hadn't given birth to you..."
"Mom, you're gone now..."
Thank you, damn fate; curse my precious fate.
Mom, you have me.
Song Yihuan raised her sleeve, stretched out her hand flat, fingers spread, and tried her best to reach in her direction.
She desperately reached out her hand to Ms. Wang, as if to say, instead of the apology a daughter would never need to say to her mother.
All the daughter needs to say is—
Mom, hold me back.
Stay with me.
If you're scared too, then I'll stay with you.
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