It must be sweet
Chapter 11, Section 1
The rain stopped in the latter half of the night.
It was just dawn when I was awakened by the chirping of birds outside the window.
My phone vibrated twice under my pillow. It was a message from Xiao Chen: "Teacher Wen, the production team said they were going to the old teahouse in the village to shoot footage this morning. I heard there's an old man there who plays the sanxian. Brother Yin seems quite interested in him."
I stared at the message "Brother Yin seems quite interested in this" for two seconds, then tapped "OK" on the screen. In my mind, I was wondering, when did he become interested in the sanxian? I remembered him only ever touching the piano and guitar, neat instruments, unlike the sanxian, which had a rough, old-fashioned feel.
When I went downstairs, Zhao Yin was already sitting at the dining table with a cup of strong tea in front of him.
He saw me coming and pushed the soy milk on the table towards me. It was still warm.
"Auntie said you like sweet drinks, so she added some sugar." He lowered his head and took a sip of tea.
"Thank you." I pulled out a chair and sat down. Just as I picked up the spoon, I saw him take something out of his pocket and put it next to my bowl - it was a bag of osmanthus candy.
"I saw it at the village grocery store yesterday," he said casually. "Want to give it a try?"
(It seems like he's been feeding me candy these days, right?)
I opened the candy wrapper and poured two into the soy milk. The sweetness of osmanthus mixed with the fragrance of beans filled the air.
When I looked up, I happened to meet his gaze. There was a subtle expectation in his eyes, like a child waiting to be praised.
"It's delicious," I said.
The corners of his mouth lifted up slightly, and he lowered his head to drink tea, but his ears turned red.
(Again, this guy was secretly happy again.)
When Xiao Chen came down with his camera, he happened to see this scene and winked at me while covering his mouth.
I pretended not to see it and buried my face in the bowl of soy milk.
On the way to the old teahouse, I opened my second account and checked, and there was new activity on the "Xiyouyin" super topic.
Someone took a screenshot of the Reuters photo of Zhao Yin dragging me to apply medicine while we were collecting the fishing nets yesterday, and captioned it, "Hand control welfare! Brother Yin's fingers applying medicine to Xixi are so beautiful!" It was followed by a bunch of "Ahhh" comments.
Someone even dug up photos from the previous Shell Competition and compared them, saying, "The way Yin Ge looks at Wen Xi is completely different from the way he looks at others!" The left side of the picture shows his profile when he looks at me, while the right side shows his expression when he looks at Jiang Li putting together the shells. It's indeed a lot softer.
My heart was beating a little faster, and my finger paused on the screen before I posted a new Weibo post: [Today's osmanthus candy goes perfectly with soy milk.]
The moment the message was sent successfully, Zhao Yin suddenly turned to look at me and asked, "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing." I quickly locked the screen and put the phone back in my pocket. "I was just wondering what a sanxian looks like."
He said "hmm" and didn't ask any more questions. He just slowed down his pace and walked side by side with me.
The cobblestone road was not dry yet, and occasionally drops of water dripped from the eaves and hit his shoulders, but he did not dodge.
Chapter 11, Section 2
The old teahouse is at the innermost part of the village. It is a two-story wooden house with a faded plaque hanging on the lintel with the words "Tingtao Pavilion" written on it.
When I pushed the door open, a faint scent of tea mixed with the smell of wood hit me in the face.
There were several octagonal tables in the room, and a copper kettle was sitting on the stove in the corner, bubbling with steam.
"Sister Li is here!" An old lady in a blue shirt was sitting behind the counter. She smiled when she saw the aunt at the B&B. "Are these the ones from the city who are filming a TV show?"
"Yes, Grandma Wang, bring them here to listen to Mr. Zhang play the sanxian."
The hostess at the B&B responded familiarly, "Is the old man here?"
"In the inner room, just finished breakfast." Grandma Wang said, and called out to the inner room, "Old Zhang, someone came to listen to you play the string instrument!"
An old man with gray hair soon walked out of the inner room. He was wearing a gray double-breasted jacket and holding a sanxian in his hand.
When he saw us, his eyes lit up: "Are you here to film a show?"
"Yes, Mr. Zhang, I would like to ask you for some advice."
Zhao Yin took the initiative to greet him, his attitude much gentler than usual. "I also learned plucked instruments for a few days when I was a child, and I have always been curious about the sanxian."
"Oh? Then we have to have a good chat." The old man became interested and pulled Zhao Yin to sit at the table by the window. "This sanxian looks simple, but there are many details to it..."
The two of them started chatting about the sanxian, from fingering to music. I only understood a little bit of what I heard, but I was fascinated by what I saw.
Zhao Yin usually doesn't talk much, but at this moment he was listening very attentively, nodding and asking questions from time to time, with a liveliness in his eyes that I had never seen before.
He asked the old man if he could play a piece of "Fisherman's Song". The old man agreed with a smile and began to pluck the strings with his fingers.
The melodious tune mixed with the birdsong outside the window spread out, as if I really saw the fishing boats under the moonlight.
Zhao Yin listened attentively, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the edge of the table to the rhythm.
(I think the reason he likes this song is because he is thinking about his grandfather who is a fisherman.)
I took out my phone and secretly took a picture of his profile. After some thought, I opened my second account and sent it out with the caption: [Someone's interest in the sanxian is stronger than I thought.]
As soon as I put down my phone, I saw Zhao Yin turn around and look at me with a puzzled look in his eyes: "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I felt a little guilty. "I thought it sounded really good."
He smiled and didn't ask any more questions. He just pushed the teacup on the table towards me and said, "Try it. It's local green tea."
I picked up the teacup and took a sip. The slightly bitter taste of the tea spread on the tip of my tongue, but the aftertaste was a bit sweet.
The old man's sanxian continues to play.
Jiang Li and the male guest were chatting with Grandma Wang nearby, while Xiao Chen was taking pictures with his camera. No one noticed us.
Zhao Yin's fingers were still tapping on the edge of the table, occasionally touching the back of my hand.
Chapter 11, Section 3
The old man was tired of playing, so Zhao Yin took the initiative to take over the sanxian and try it out.
He has long fingers and his posture when pressing the strings is very standard. Although it is a bit awkward, the tune is not off.
"Not bad, not bad." The old man clapped his thigh and laughed, "He's talented! Much better than my disappointing grandson."
Zhao Yin smiled and played a simple melody, which turned out to be the conch tune I played on the island yesterday.
I was stunned for a moment, and when I looked up, I met his gaze. There was a sly smile in his eyes, as if to say, "I haven't forgotten."
Jiang Li came over to watch the fun: "Brother Yin has this ability? He's very well hidden."
"I just played it blindly." He put down the sanxian. "The old master taught me well."
"You're being modest," said Grandma Wang, carrying a plate of sunflower seeds. "I just heard Old Zhang ask about 'Fisherman's Song.' Do you like old songs?"
"Hmm, it tastes very good. My grandfather also hummed it when I was a child." He picked up a melon seed but did not peel it.
"My old man loved to listen to this when he was young," Grandma Wang sighed. "Back then, he was a fisherman on a boat, and I would sit in this teahouse waiting for him to come back. Whenever I heard this tune, I knew we were almost at shore."
Everyone fell silent and listened to Grandma Wang telling stories about the past. He listened very carefully, occasionally turning his head to look at me with an indescribable emotion in his eyes.
We had lunch at the teahouse at noon. The old lady made a dish of tea-flavored pork ribs using the green tea from the store. The fragrance of the pork ribs mixed with the clearness of the tea was especially delicious.
Zhao Yin picked up a piece of pork ribs and put it in my bowl. The meat on the bones was stewed very well and it went down easily in one sip. "Be careful, there are bones," he said.
"Got it." I lowered my head and gnawed on the ribs, feeling his eyes on me all the time.
Jiang Li laughed at what she saw: "Brother Yin is so caring towards Wen Xi. If you don't know him, you might think he is your younger brother."
"Two years younger than me." Zhao Yin was really talking about seniority. "It's only right that you take care of her more."
I almost choked on the ribs and coughed twice.
He quickly handed over the teacup.
When leaving the teahouse in the afternoon, the old man pulled Zhao Yin aside and talked to him for a few words, and also handed him something.
Zhao Yin took it and put it in his pocket, and came back with a smile on his face.
"What did the old man give you?" I couldn't help asking.
"Nothing." He felt in his pocket. "An old sheet of music."
"What song?"
“secret.”
He blinked, and rarely used a playful tone.
I stood there in a daze, watching his back as he walked forward. Suddenly, I felt that these two words were like a piece of candy, slowly melting in my heart. They were so sweet that they made me feel a little dizzy, right?
Chapter 11, Section 4
When we returned to the B&B, the program team told us that there would be a small village party in the evening and asked us to prepare a program.
"I can't do that. I'm tone-deaf." Jiang Li waved her hands and smiled, "Let Brother Yin sing one, he's a professional!"
Everyone started to cheer, but Zhao Yin shook his head: "It's been a long time since I last went on stage."
"Just sing a simple song." The male guest also advised, "Just sing a few lines."
He glanced at me with a questioning look in his eyes.
I quickly lowered my head and pretended to tidy up my clothes, but I was actually looking forward to it.
"Then... let's play a song." He finally agreed, "But we need to find a piano."
"There's an old piano at the village primary school!" the hostess suddenly said. "It was donated by a kind-hearted person last year. I don't know if it's still usable."
On the way to the elementary school, I opened WeChat and saw a message from Zhao Yin: [Please check my pitch later.]
I replied: [I don’t know much about piano…]
He replied quickly: [Just listen to what you feel comfortable with.]
The elementary school playground is very small, with only two basketball hoops, and the wall of the teaching building is a bit peeling.
The piano was in the corner of the music classroom, covered with a cloth that raised a cloud of dust when the cloth was lifted.
Zhao Yin tried a few notes and found that the piano was indeed a little out of tune, but not seriously.
He sat on the piano stool, his fingers tapping lightly on the keys, and a disjointed melody spread out. It turned out to be the "Fisherman's Song" that the old man played in the morning.
I leaned against the door frame and looked at him.
He played very attentively, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he was struggling with an out-of-tune piano.
"How is it?" He suddenly stopped and turned to look at me.
"It's quite nice," I said. "It's a bit more... worldly than the record."
He smiled, said nothing, and continued playing.
The tune is much smoother this time.
Halfway through playing, he suddenly changed the tune and replaced it with the conch whistle sound I played on the island yesterday. It was much better than my broken voice, with some gentle ups and downs.
I stood there in a daze, watching his fingers dancing on the piano keys, my heart beating as if it was hit by something, making a thumping sound.
When he finished playing the last note, the classroom was quiet, with only the chirping of cicadas outside the window.
"It sounds good," I whispered. "Better than a conch shell."
His eyes lit up instantly, as if filled with stars.
On the way back, I took out my phone and checked it. I found a new Weibo post from Zhao Yin's studio. It was a picture of him sitting at a piano, with the caption "There's a surprise tonight."
The comment section has exploded:
[Brother Yin is going to play the piano? Which party is it at?]
This piano looks a bit old, not like the ones on stage.
[I bet 50 cents that this is for Teacher Wen Xi!]
[Add one to the previous one! I played Teacher Wenxi's video of blowing the conch shell a hundred times yesterday!]
My heartbeat quickened as I read the comments. My finger paused on the screen, then I opened my second account and posted a Weibo post: [Someone turned the sound of a conch into a piano piece.]
As soon as I sent it, I felt someone touch my arm.
When I turned around, I saw Zhao Yin holding a candy and handing it to me. It was a milk candy with a kitten drawn on the wrapper.
(Feeding me again, how many times?)
"I just bought it at the store in front of the elementary school," he said. "Would you like to try it?"
I took it, peeled off the candy wrapper and put it in my mouth. It had a strong milky flavor and was a bit greasy in the sweetness.
"Thank you," I said.
He didn't say anything, just looked at me and smiled. When I relaxed my guard and looked ahead, he suddenly kissed my cheek.
My face turned red all of a sudden and I looked at him in disbelief. He didn't say anything and just smiled, as if what had just happened hadn't happened.
It was already dark when the party started.
The villagers moved chairs and sat on the threshing ground, with a bonfire lit in the middle.
Zhao Yin sat on the makeshift stage, and when his fingers fell on the piano keys, the whole audience fell silent.
The tune of "Fisherman's Song" spread out, as if telling a story from long, long ago. At the end, he played another conch song that he personally adapted.
(Song 1 may be about his childhood with his grandfather.)
I was sitting in the first row, looking at his profile, and suddenly I felt that the scene was a little unreal.
The cold figure I saw from afar backstage at the awards ceremony five years ago is now right in front of me, playing the adapted conch song for me.
Halfway through playing, he suddenly looked up at me with a hint of a smile in his eyes, as if to say, "See, I did it."
My heart skipped a beat and I quickly lowered my head, but I couldn't help but curl the corners of my mouth.
The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a WeChat message from him: [Do you like it?]
I replied: [Yes.]
He sent me a simple smiley face in return, but it made me feel more moved than any love words.
When the song ended, the audience burst into warm applause.
Zhao Yin stood up and bowed. His eyes swept across the crowd and finally fell on me with a gentle smile. Suddenly, my mind flashed back to when he kissed my cheek just now. At that time, he also smiled at me so gently.
I know the stars tonight must be very sweet.
It was sweeter than the one he had just given me.
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