Chapter 7 Yang Feng
Pu Zhihe reached out and took off her own silver hoop earrings and handed them to Hang Liumei: "Okay, Teacher Hang, but your ears are a little empty. Try mine on."
Hang Liumei took it and put it on with great interest, looked at herself in the mirror, and said happily: "Don't call me Teacher Hang, it seems strange. You are of the same generation as Xiaomai, so just call me Grandma Hang."
Pu Zhihe looked at Hang Liumei in the mirror and asked, "What music festival are we going to today?"
Hang Liumei replied, "It's the 'Blackwater Music Festival'. Xiaomai said it's not suitable for me to go, so let's keep our trip a secret and don't tell him. We're going to get drunk today! No, I'm allergic to alcohol, and you want to drive. So we won't drink, we'll just dance!"
Pu Zhihe was still forcing a smile, but her eyes had become fixed.
She'd assumed she'd just go to a live concert, but she hadn't expected Hang Liumei to attend that obscure death metal festival. She'd seen on her phone a few days ago that a friend had gone there. The air was thick with smoke, pitch black, and red and green spotlights blaring down overhead, making it look just like the Silken Web Cave.
A group of people huddled together, arms around each other, swaying wildly to the thumping bass and drums. They could probably develop abdominal muscles overnight. I wondered if Hang Liumei's heart, liver, lungs, and kidneys were healthy. Even if her legs were okay, the decibels of music would shake anything apart. I was afraid she'd stumble forward and fall, unable to get up again.
Hang Liumei had already won over Pu Zhihe as a close teammate who went out to play without telling her grandson. She took out a cardboard box of treasures from the bedroom and showed it to her: "Look at what I prepared for us: playing cards, glow sticks, luminous watches, dice, and even this!"
Hang Liumei took out a pair of straw glasses and put them on. Holding the long tube in her hand, she found a water cup and inserted it into the glasses. She demonstrated to Pu Zhihe: "Come, let's see if we can drink it this way. My lung capacity should be okay."
She sat in the same elegant position, one hand holding the cup and the other holding the straw. However, her facial expression was a little out of control from the effort she put into sipping the water. Her eyes, nose, and mouth were all straining, and her expression was becoming increasingly fierce. It was unclear who she was competing with.
Seeing that the water was about to reach her mouth, Hang Liumei choked out a breath and her face flushed red: "No, no, this one is too long. Wait for me to find a shorter one."
Pu Zhihe couldn't bear to see her do it again, so she secretly pushed her back to her seat with force: "Grandma Hang, don't look for her for now, take a rest."
She stroked Hang Liumei's back with one hand to calm her down, and put the things back into the box with the other hand: "We are going to listen to music, not to carry out a mission."
"I know, but I'm afraid I won't fit in. When I look at my phone, I see other people going to music festivals, all laughing and crying with excitement. I don't know what that feels like," Hang Liumei said, taking the straw from her cup and tilting her head back to take a sip of water. She turned to Pu Zhihe and said, "Don't look at me now because I'm old. We used to have parties in the Gobi Desert, too, singing and dancing around bonfires."
"I have a friend named ——. Never mind. He's younger than me, but he's spent his entire life climbing mountains and exploring the seas, which is equivalent to two lifetimes of mine. He passed away a while ago, and I was thinking, 'He was so healthy, he was even planning to hike the Sichuan-Tibet Highway, and yet he just passed away right before my eyes.' Then I realized that he experienced everything in his life, and he died without regrets. I think I should regret it when it's my turn to die."
Hang Liumei sighed and placed the cup on the table, her hand resting on her forehead as if lost in thought. "As soon as I sit down, I want to go out and play. That's why I never finish this painting. When Xiaomai was little, I used to get angry when I helped him with his homework. Now I realize I'm also a lazy person, and it turns out I inherited it from him. But it's obvious that this is because I didn't play enough before, so I have to have some fun this time."
Pu Zhihe did not interrupt, his eyes fixed on the unfinished "Garuda Music Picture" placed aside and no one was interested in it. The Garuda with a human head and a bird body was adorned with jewels, wearing a pearl crown and earrings, holding a pipa and standing on the floating clouds, with phoenix and lotus patterns dotted around it.
As expected of a muralist, even if he says he doesn't want to paint, he can still leave everyone else far behind once he starts.
Pu Zhihe understood Hang Liumei's reluctance to paint. Everything about a creator is reflected in their work. Now that her mind and hand couldn't align, the first person she couldn't deceive was herself. However, Hang Liumei was already sketching a musical instrument and wanted to attend a concert, perhaps to find a feeling for her work. She was indeed a child procrastinating on her homework, so she had to fight fire with fire.
"Okay," Pu Zhihe lifted her up from the chair. "Let's go now. First, we'll go to the bar, then to the music festival, and then to the nightclub after the music festival. Not only today, but we can continue to have fun tomorrow. We can fly directly to Universal Studios Beijing or Shanghai Disneyland. If that's not exciting enough, we can go abroad. How about that?"
"Bar? Nightclub? Are we going abroad?" Hang Liumei was supported by her, and she felt a little dizzy, neither sitting nor walking.
"Yeah, are you happy? Wait for me a moment, I'll change and then we can go."
Hang Liumei was invited by Pu Zhihe to get into the car and arrived at the door of the bar.
From the outside, it's impossible to guess what's sold inside. The entire entrance is a cavernous structure made of grayish-white microcrystalline cement, with a large K on the doorplate. Inside, a wall of wine bottles is illuminated by the pale golden light from the bar, while the rest of the space is lit by weak floor lamps and sunlight from the windows.
Hang Liumei had a faint yearning for such occasions, yet she was also deeply intimidated. She loved and excelled at dressing up, but she still envied the youth of young people. She was old, and such fashionable places were no longer for her. When she was suddenly pulled in, her first reaction was, surprisingly, sleepiness.
This place is perfect for sleeping. Every time she blinks, her eyelids have to stick together before they can't bear to open. But she is too embarrassed to back out, so she forced herself to show interest: "This place is very elegant, Zhihe, we can sit here for a while. Life is not too hasty."
There were only three or four customers in the bar. A burst of laughter broke out in the corner. Pu Zhihe then noticed that there was a long table near the stage, with six or seven young men and women sitting at it. Each of them was holding a book, reading and chatting, laughing and the whole place was filled with their voices.
Pu Zhihe helped Hang Liumei sit down, ordered a non-alcoholic Girl Basil for her, and drank a latte for herself.
Hang Liumei stirred the cup with a straw. Pu Zhihe heard the crackling of ice cubes and asked if she could remove the ice. Hang Liumei usually drank hot tea or soup, and her gums tightened at first, but she quickly fell in love with the feeling of carefully savoring it. She shook her head and insisted on drinking it this way.
On the stage in front of her was a drum kit, electric guitar, speakers, and a standing microphone. Background music began playing, but after a while, no one came on stage. Pu Zhihe, holding her head, waited for the performance. Upon asking, she learned that there was a small theater performance that evening, so the venue was cleared during the day for the actors to rehearse.
Pu Zhihe gently pointed at the young people over there and asked, "Are they going to rehearse soon?" The bartender nodded.
Pu Zhihe turned to Hang Liumei and said regretfully, "It's not a coincidence today. I wanted you to come here to warm up first."
"It's okay, Zhihe. I'm very happy now too." Hang Liumei hummed softly along with the music, with a sense of being intoxicated even without drinking.
"Grandma Hang also listens to pop music?" Pu Zhihe reached out and grasped Hang Liumei's wrist, which was holding the wine glass. "Do you want to go up and sing?"
"Huh?" Hang Liumei glanced at the stage, very hesitant, then leaned against the back of her chair and shook her head, "I'm old, and this is all for you young people to do. If I go there, people will laugh at me."
"We're here to take risks, and we can't be afraid of being laughed at when taking risks," Pu Zhihe said as he stood up, seeing her eager to try. "You're not being sincere."
Hang Liumei saw her walk towards the bartender and whisper something, but when she came back, she walked around the seats and went straight to the stage.
Pu Zhihe tried the microphone and gestured to the bartender. The music changed to the prelude of "Words Fail to Express the Meaning".
The young men and women at the long table erupted in cheers and applause, all turning to look at Pu Zhihe. Hang Liumei was surprised at first, then joined in the applause, a smile involuntarily plastered across her face.
In order to go to the music festival, Pu Zhihe changed into a white dress with a holiday style, simply tied a waist belt, and wore short boots. It was not a suitable outfit for this song, but she sang it very well.
She didn't smile or look at the audience while she sang. She just looked forward and sang to herself, which sobered Hang Liumei up.
The young people at that table fell silent, lighting up their phones and swaying their arms to the rhythm. Hang Liumei suddenly didn't want to go to the festival anymore. It would be a waste to talk about leaving now. The scenery before her had nothing to do with the mountains and rivers. But she remembered the line, "It's a pity that the beauty of the river should not be trampled upon."
Hang Liumei tried to turn on her flashlight and waved her arms like the group of young people, but she couldn't find the switch. Just as she was wondering, her cell phone suddenly rang. It was Xiaomai.
Hang Liumei answered the phone in a panic: "Hello? Grandson, what's wrong? We are at home."
"Really? I just finished my first class and came to see what you were busy with - are you at home? Why is the background noise so loud? Are you listening to music?" Xiaomai leaned against the window in the corridor, her eyes busy looking for bees in the flowerbed outside the glass.
"No," Hang Liumei said, "Zhihe is singing in the KTV, and we two don't want to work today. Let's leave it at that for now. It's my turn for the next song. You just focus on your studies and don't worry about us."
Hang Liumei hung up the phone, and Pu Zhihe's music stopped. She used her eyes to encourage Hang Liumei to go on stage. Hang Liumei stood up and straightened her clothes, which received applause.
She was a bit reserved when she first came on stage, standing too straight. She tapped the microphone twice in an old-fashioned way to check the sound, and said to the bartender, "Please play the instrumental for Priscilla Chan's 'Snow Falling' for me."
Pu Zhihe opened her eyes wide in surprise. She didn't expect that she could sing Cantonese songs.
Hang Liumei's bounty hunter-like leather jacket and jeans didn't quite suit the song, but her white hair and voice did, and the melody, coupled with the melancholy and relief accumulating over the years, made Pu Zhihe feel the journey was worthwhile.
After Hang Liumei finished singing and returned to her seat, two new drinks appeared on the table. Pu Zhihe pushed one of the still bubbling drinks towards her and said, "How are you, Teacher Hang? Are you happy? These are gifts from your friends over there. Let's say hello to them."
Hang Liumei saw a girl looking over there and raised her arm and waved like the Queen of England. The girl smiled brightly, and Hang Liumei felt a little dazed, as if she were now a young girl in her twenties.
After a good drink, Pu Zhihe reminded her of the time: "Teacher Hang, it's two o'clock. We still have an hour to go to the music festival. Let's go."
Hang Liumei's excitement wore off, and she felt even sleepier. Once in the car, she leaned against the window and chatted idly with Pu Zhihe. "Zhihe, I'm very satisfied today. I don't even think I need to go to that music festival... You should sing more, you sing beautifully... When we get back from this trip, I'll definitely paint more... Let's come back next time. Can you sing Teresa Teng's songs?"
Pu Zhihe turned the steering wheel and looked at her with a smile: "Teacher Hang, you remind me of my grandmother."
"Does your grandmother also like Teresa Teng?"
"No, she likes Chang Xiangyu."
"Chang Xiangyu?"
"It's Chang Xiangyu, the one who sang 'Brother Liu's words are too biased' in the Henan opera 'Mulan'."
Hang Liumei chuckled: "Zhihe, you speak the dialect quite well too."
"My grandmother taught me. You remind me of her because she was also very good at singing, but she was always too shy to do so. I used to tease her all the time..."
As they were chatting, Hang Liumei stopped talking. When Pu Zhihe looked again, she had fallen asleep.
Pu Zhihe fell silent. It had been four years since her grandmother passed away, and when Hang Liumei stood on the stage today, she suddenly felt a sense of familiarity. Perhaps it was because Hang Liumei's rendition of "Falling Snow" was so sentimental.
Fortunately, the lights were dim and Hang Liumei couldn't see her red eyes. Pu Zhihe thought about the regret she had at that time and wondered why she hadn't taken the risk with her grandmother.
The journey was not as long as she had imagined. When they arrived, Hang Liumei woke up.
She got out of the car and took a closer look. She thought she had fallen asleep and whispered to Pu Zhihe, "Aren't we going to the music festival? Where is this?"
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