Day 17
Is a week enough time to practice a song? The answer is not necessarily.
"I want to die." When the guy lying on top uttered this sigh, the other three people in the dormitory were a little bit unbelievable, because that person was Bai Wenji.
A guy who looks aloof, cold and devoid of human touch.
Chen Chi laughed and patted the edge of the bed: "Brother Bai, stop joking. Go take a shower and rest. It's already three o'clock. If you stay up for three days in a row, you will really die suddenly."
The person on the bed turned over, his white hands dropped down, and a pair of eyes that looked like they had lost all hope in life appeared behind the quilt.
"It doesn't matter. That person is not dead. I can't die even if I want to."
He pointed at Fu Xunyan.
Fu Xunyan was still struggling with the final arrangement. He'd only slept for six hours in the past two days—he was afraid he'd run out of time. Since the dance for "Wind, Another Night of Rain" was completely new, the vocals, the centerpiece, needed to be rehearsed and practiced as quickly as possible.
In order to ensure progress, he spent two days re-arranging the entire song. Tonight is his deadline. If he can't finish it tonight, the practice time left for their group will be compressed to the extreme starting tomorrow.
Bai Wenji's pain was the exact opposite of their group's anxious waiting. He was selected to be in the same group as Chen Chi in the first public performance, and they performed "Happy Clown", a very explosive dance song. In order to ensure the presentation effect, their group leader asked everyone to finish the dance in the first two days, and start rehearsing the movement and coordination from the third day, and then focus on the vocal part.
Although Chen Chi had little dance experience and was a bit of a handicap, his coordination and memory were good, so he was able to keep up. However, Bai Wenji, who had demonstrated an extremely elegant Kunqu opera performance on his debut stage, was once again stumped by the industry barriers.
Kunqu Opera emphasizes elegance, lightness, softness and fun, especially the cross-dressing roles such as Bai Wenji, whose elegant posture is so vivid that it can be seen inhaling smoke into the lungs.
Curves, tilts, rises, sinks, slow pushes and pulls, and lyrical extensions, this theoretical system is incompatible with pop dance.
Fu Xunyan raised his head from his busy schedule. His face, covered by his glasses, had a more refined look, no longer so sharp. Bai Wenji watched him push his glasses up, his eyes still a little distracted as he opened his mouth.
"You have to correct your power position, especially in male group dance. The technique of Poppin and Hip-Pop is more important. Use one point to drive the whole body to move, instead of holding the chest like before."
Bai Wenji seemed to be lost in thought - in fact, it's not that no one has explained these theories to him. In the past two days, the dance teacher in the practice room has been following him closely and almost becoming his private tutor.
But for some reason, what his roommate said was very appealing to his ears.
Fu Xunyan glanced at his focused expression and knew what was wrong with him. Perhaps he didn't want pop dance to change his basic skills. In other words, he wasn't ready to risk everything to become an idol.
So why did he come to the draft?
Fu Xunyan didn't understand, but he wouldn't ask for no reason. Personal goals and plans were Bai Wenji's private affairs. If he wasn't even willing to tell them, then even if he pointed it out, he would be met with resistance.
Fu Xunyan adjusted the last bit and put on his clothes again.
"Where are you going?" Da Pei, who had just laid down, suddenly stood up and pointed at the digital clock on the table with wide eyes. "It's so late, and you're not sleeping again."
"Well, I'll go straight to the studio and sleep there after I finish the revisions."
The program team provided three studios for people with arranging skills. Although the equipment is not high-end, it is sufficient. There are four groups that need to adapt the songs in this first public performance, namely the two teams of "Wind, Another Night of Rain" and the two teams of "A Love Song". Yin Xingheng is in the latter.
But it wasn’t like this in my previous life.
Yin Xingheng did not propose to adapt it that time, and Fu Xunyan didn't understand why he decided to adapt it this time, but perhaps this is part of the butterfly effect.
Walking into the corridor, the night outside was dark, the instruments in the corridor were still working, and the red lights flashed regularly.
It's not that he wasn't sleepy. He poured a cup of coffee from the tea room and planned to drink it in the corridor before going to work.
There was a very low rustling sound in my ears.
Fu Xunyan looked up at the stairwell and first saw a puff of smoke, then the familiar silver crew cut.
As far as he knew, the only one who had a buzz cut at this stage was Min Hai.
"Oh, I'm sorry you saw me." The man didn't panic, but subconsciously tried to put out the cigarette. Then he found that there was no place nearby for him to put out the cigarette, so he smiled bitterly, with the cigarette still burning alone between his two fingers.
Fu Xunyan raised his cup of coffee to indicate that everything was fine, and continued looking towards the fishing ground which was still lit in the distance.
Three minutes later.
"Didn't the dorm manager search your luggage? How did you bring it in?"
The black-haired young man placed the coffee cup casually on the ground and walked over.
He stood still at the stairwell door, the moonlight casting his solitary shadow onto the pale ground, then stretching out and losing its shape. Min Hai looked at the backlit dark figure, the bitterness in his heart still growing.
It’s not because of Fu Xunyan, but because of this dark night and the mess that happened during the day.
After a long moment, mixed with a voice that was almost a sigh, he heard himself say, "I borrowed it from someone else. I don't have the ability, but others do."
The man with the silver crew cut shrugged, his shoulders light and airy, yet leaving a heavy feeling, as if a stone was pressing down on his heart, unable to be removed. Bone nails pierced his eyebrows, gleaming brightly. His exceptionally restrained yet sharp face pierced the night, all disguises shattered by the blood.
He has a dark complexion, which contrasts even more with his hair, giving him a mysterious and wild aura.
Fu Xunyan was not good at comforting people. There was no warmth in his youth. Life set up too many difficult levels, so heavy that it almost forced him to bend his back into the ground. The burden rubbed his shoulder blades and sent the salt in his sweat back to his body in the form of severe pain.
Sometimes there is care and warmth, but he cannot open his eyes to remember the faces of those good people.
He is too tired.
After Jiang Han left, he thought about death. At that time, he faced slander that was even more serious than the malicious editing. But one day when he opened his eyes, he suddenly realized - why, why can't I live a good life?
Were the ridicule and scolding from those people really more unbearable for him than before? No, so this time he could still move forward, he would not stop here.
He has only lived one-fifth of his life, it is too early to give up.
So he entered the social mainstream, where he learned to read people's expressions and provide emotional value to others. Now, he can no longer shed this part of "pleasing" from himself - even if he shouts the slogan "I want to be myself", he has to admit that the one standing here is not the real and complete twenty-year-old Fu Xunyan, but the fragmented and repaired Fu Xunyan.
He made a decision.
He walked over, hoping that the man would not let him down.
A white hand reached out, and Min Hai could clearly see the small mole on the back of his hand. The hand, which could be called a work of art, gently took the cigarette from his hand, then walked to the windowsill, extinguished it, let the wind blow away the tobacco, and the remaining cigarette butt was casually stuffed into his trouser pocket.
"Smoking won't solve anything, so let's talk."
"While I may not be offering any effective advice, speaking out your worries will definitely help you process them more easily than if you keep them to yourself. Ruminating on the things that are causing you pain will only lead to deeper pain and resentment. It's pointless."
Min Hai smiled, and the corners of his mouth twitched.
"How do you know I won't digest it slowly?"
He looked at the boy who looked at him as if he was a fool. "If you could digest it, you wouldn't be here at this time."
Min Hai gave in. He sat down against the wall, on the staircase, one leg pressed down against the tenth step, the other leg curled up.
He didn't want to look at Fu Xunyan, at least not when he mustered up the courage to talk about his troubles.
"I... I don't know what I'm doing. Even though I've worked so hard, I'm only ranked in the twenties. I know I might seem a little unsatisfied for someone in the lower ranks, but everyone has different goals. Mine used to be number one."
"But these two days of training also made me realize that this is impossible. I am competing with a group of top students, but the sense of superiority of being the leader is still there. I see them being praised and appreciated, and I find that I can't be as genuinely happy for them as I appear to be. I am very jealous."
"I'm very jealous. But I can't keep a straight face. I have to force myself to smile happily - yes, I knew I had to do this a long time ago, but... it's really harder than I thought.
I also hate it when my vocal teacher tells me what I'm singing wrong. I'm just sticking to my own way of singing, right? — No, the second after that thought came to my mind, I was scared. I was denying my own shortcomings and making excuses for my mistakes.
Min Hai took a deep breath and tried to make his chaotic narration more coherent: "You know what, Fu Xunyan, I'm 24 years old, which makes me look very 'old' in this variety show. Looking at Chen Chi and the others, I always feel that I have no natural advantages."
"Oh, right. I've never told anyone, but I actually debuted once. I was young at the time, and in my rebellious teenage years, I insisted on going out on my own. I signed a contract with a company that had absolutely no talent, and was then bundled into a debut program. During those two years, I worked a lot of part-time jobs, all for this bullshit 'dream'."
To become famous, I was willing to sacrifice for the team. If they wanted to form a band, I'd learn guitar. The other three were terrible dancers, so I couldn't. But things are weird sometimes. That guy who could sing but spent his days drinking and hanging out at bars became famous for a song called "Tailor," and he started assigning roles to us, asking the other two to sing backup vocals for him.
He said I was a good dancer and asked me to dance with him."
Min Hai smiled bitterly and said, "I was delayed for three years."
"I know, compared to what you've encountered since joining the show, what I've encountered is nothing more than the cost of choosing the wrong path, but..."
The male voice interrupted him. He was facing the window sill, the moonlight illuminating his eyes. He didn't look at him, but seemed to be looking at him.
"There's no point in comparing misery. I don't think your experience should be taken lightly."
"Do you know what I was thinking when I first saw you?"
Without waiting for Min Hai to ask, he continued, "I think you will definitely collapse—of course, not in a physical sense, but in this place, in this place where we are chasing victory and glory, your spirit will definitely collapse."
"The fact that you've pursued your dreams proves you're more idealistic than at least half the people out there. And your willingness to take care of Zhou Qi shows that even though the past three or more years have dealt you a heavy blow, you haven't learned a thing."
Huh? Min Hai even temporarily came out of his grief - is he criticizing me?
No.
"But I admire people like you." The young man put the weight of his body on the windowsill. The night wind lifted the strands of hair on his forehead, and the deep black like ink blended into the night, like a quiet river.
"Really, I admire you. This world has so many realists, so many people who hide away after being hurt, but there are still people like you who are willing to move forward even after being bruised and battered. From an outsider's perspective, I feel very lucky to have someone like you who is completely trustworthy."
"It's not a shortcoming. You might even feel down because of jealousy. Min Hai, you really are like a saint sometimes."
"I won't advise you to become selfish, or to maintain this kindness and perseverance and endure hardships. I just want you to know that those are not your shortcomings. The setbacks you have suffered are not deserved, but simply because the time that is right for you has not yet arrived - of course, this point may never come in your lifetime."
"So you want to change? It's your choice. There's nothing wrong with the choice itself. If you choose to continue, but you can't stop questioning yourself and believe in hard work again, then you will continue to suffer mental pain for a long time. If you choose to change, then perhaps you will become more dazzling and stronger. But no one can predict this."
Fu Xunyan turned around and looked at the stunned young man: "And I have decided to trust every choice you make."
Min Hai's fingertips were trembling slightly.
Where is Min Hai seven years later? What is he doing?
After the team's contract expired and it disbanded, he chose to return to his art career. He held art exhibitions, wrote novels, and also had his own dance studio.
But his words reveal loneliness.
His personality, prematurely forced by his family, the unfair treatment he received in his previous group, the unsatisfactory post-competition developments, and the scrutiny of the entertainment media—everything left him feeling lost. He never had confidence in himself or others, so he could only invest this priceless trust in his work.
Art, on the other hand, drives people crazy.
The last time Fu Xunyan heard from him, he had closed his social media accounts due to severe depression.
His past stories were far more profound than the ones he now told Fu Xunyan. And his future path was also far lonelier than he could imagine.
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