Zhou Yiyang first felt a stomachache.
The plot development of this youth trauma literature is really incompatible with the character of this young master who came from a compound.
But Zhou Yiyang's heart is not made of mud after all. Although this kind of story is clichéd, it can easily break people's defenses.
"You said," Ning Mang looked up at the stage. In the dim light, he seemed to see the shadow of the woman. But in the blink of an eye, the shadow disappeared again. Everything was just a phantom he had mistaken. "How great would it be if I could start over again?"
Zhou Yiyang sighed. He felt like he had heard this kind of words too many times.
But many people don’t know that the so-called starting over is just a replay of the predetermined ending.
"If I had to do it all over again," Ning Mang said, clearly not needing Zhou Yiyang's answer at this point. He simply wanted to find someone to talk to. "I might choose to stay there. If I hadn't left her, we might have been the ones getting married now."
Zhou Yiyang glanced at Ning Mang. Just as he was about to speak, Ning Mang suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly. "Of course, all these possibilities are just my wishful thinking. For her, no matter how many times she has to do it again, she won't choose me."
Hearing this, Zhou Yiyang actually breathed a sigh of relief. This at least showed that although Ning Mang was reluctant to part with his French Rose, he still had some sense and knew that they had no chance of being together.
"Mr. Ning's story," Zhou Yiyang said with a faint smile. It wasn't a happy smile, but one of relief and helplessness. "It really moved me deeply. It's been a long time since I've heard such a touching story."
"Really?" Ning Mang shook his head, placed his hand next to the glass, and drank another glass of wine. One glass after another, he drank to drown his sorrows. After numbing himself, it seemed that all the pain had disappeared. "You've written so many songs. I thought you must have seen and heard so many stories. Mine is nothing special."
"It's not that special," Zhou Yiyang said frankly, which made Ning Mang feel very comfortable with him. "It just feels very real. Compared to some stories with a lot of twists and turns, your story is more likely to happen around us. When I write songs and scripts, I also like to start with these stories. Only in this way can it resonate more easily with the audience."
As expected, Ning Mang stared at Zhou Yiyang eagerly. "What if I ask you, Mr. Zhou, to write a song for me? Or pick out one of your past songs that's suitable for me?"
He paused, feeling that if he only made requests without mentioning anything in return, it would seem unsatisfactory. Then he continued, "If possible, Mr. Zhou, I think we can definitely become good friends."
Zhou Yiyang couldn't show his joy so directly on his face. He nodded, then hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether he could take on this important task.
After a while, before Ning Mang's expectant eyes turned impatient, he finally agreed to the request: "I remember that two years ago, I wrote a song. But it has never been published. I originally planned to bury it deep in my memory."
These words really piqued Ning Mang's interest.
A song he had written long ago but was reluctant to publish, intending to bury it deep in his memory. All these elements made the literary youth excited, and Ning Mang really wanted to know the song and the story behind it.
As expected, he looked at Zhou Yiyang expectantly: "Why don't you want to publish it?"
"You know," Zhou Yiyang exhaled. He felt that if he could smoke, the melancholy of holding a cigarette and blowing smoke rings at this moment would definitely be more impactful. "This song is to commemorate my lost love. I once read a book, and there is a passage in it that I still remember vividly."
"People have to experience too many separations and deaths in their lives. Those sudden separations often hurt people unexpectedly. There are always encounters in life, but some turns are really a lifetime away, and from then on there will be no indefinite period, and we will never see each other again."
After Zhou Yiyang finished speaking the words from "The Biography of Lin Huiyin", Ning Mang, a literary youth, was completely conquered by him.
The look he gave Zhou Yiyang was no longer one of inquiry, but of admiration as if to say, "Master, I understand."
He murmured the words over and over again, feeling that what Zhou Yiyang said was absolutely correct. He was certain that Zhou Yiyang had written these words himself, and that the so-called reading them in a book was just a humble excuse.
This person is not only talented, but also so humble and young. Ning Mang really admires him.
"Yeah," Ning Mang rubbed his eyes, "There were some turns that none of us expected, that we would never see each other again."
"What about that song?" Ning Mang looked at Zhou Yiyang, clearly showing great interest in the song. "I really want to listen to it. I think a song like this, which carries so much of your emotions, must be a good song. It would be such a shame if more people couldn't hear such a good song. I think if this song could be released, it would surely move many people like me, and those of us who are suffering from love."
Zhou Yiyang knew that he had succeeded. Ning Mang had unknowingly put himself in the same camp as him.
"Then let me copy the lyrics for you?" Zhou Yiyang seemed calm on the surface.
He felt that Ning Mang would definitely agree very excitedly.
However, the development of reality suddenly exceeded Zhou Yiyang's expectations. It developed in a direction that Zhou Yiyang had never anticipated.
"No need," Ning Mang shook his head. After seeing Zhou Yiyang's fleeting surprise, he explained, "I just think that since today is such a good opportunity, why don't Mr. Zhou just sing this song for everyone!"
???What?
Zhou Yiyang's face was filled with questions, but Ning Mang seemed oblivious to them and continued, "Mr. Zhou, I've heard that you sing very well in private. I don't believe someone like you, who has seen so many big events, would be stage fright."
Facing Ning Mang's resolute gaze, Zhou Yiyang still wanted to struggle: "Everyone comes to the bar just to listen to idiots. If I go up and sing like this, I'm afraid the guests will chase me away."
"No," Ning Mang sat up straight and obediently. "I'm very familiar with their boss. I'll go talk to them and ask you to sing a song. The customers won't be angry. Mr. Zhou, I know this request is a bit excessive, but a song like this will definitely be more emotional if you sing it. Or is it that your story, Mr. Zhou, is all made up?"
"Of course I'm not making this up," Zhou Yiyang perked up. It seemed Ning Mang wasn't that easy to fool. Singing wasn't out of the question. "In that case, I'll show you how to do it."
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