With her carefree, unscholarly gait, Song Zhiqing dragged Ye Yuhuan out of the world of Foucault and Cézanne. The abandoned Ms. Gao Yiren sat where she was, resting her chin on her hand and smiling faintly.
This is good, too, she thought. Someone like Xiao Ye should be with a naive and lively girl like Qingqing.
Once they reached the music room, Song Zhiqing fiddled with her fingertips, her imposing aura completely deflating. She had never been one to lack self-confidence; she knew how outstanding she was. Even if it wasn’t the conventionally recognized excellence of someone like Ye Yuhuan, she was still excellent in her own right.
But it was undeniable that when facing the person they liked, people always wished they were a little better, perfect enough that their partner could find no fault, so they could be together for a long, long time.
Song Zhiqing’s gaze shifted about as she asked with some trepidation, “Ye Yuhuan, will you look down on me for not understanding what you’re talking about sometimes?”
Ye Yuhuan looked at her, puzzled, not understanding where Song Zhiqing had gotten such an idea. She countered, “Would you look down on me for not knowing music theory?”
Song Zhiqing immediately shook her head. “How could I!”
You’re so wonderful, how could I ever look down on you? Besides, it’s enough for one person in the family to be a musician. If both were, they’d end up fighting over creative differences sooner or later. Uncle Zhang from the band and Auntie Chen the pianist argue once a week. Uncle Zhang says Auntie Chen’s work is too ethereal, and Auntie Chen says Uncle Zhang is just playing to the crowd.
She didn’t want to argue with Ye Yuhuan.
Ye Yuhuan’s eyes curved, so beautiful that Song Zhiqing wanted to capture the moment with a camera. She said with a smile, “Then there’s no way I would, either.”
Hearing this, Little Miss Song turned away haughtily, radiating the comfortable languor of someone who had just been placated. She sat down on the piano bench, her ten fingers stretching out to touch the keys, and returned to the topic at hand. “What do you want to hear?”
Ye Yuhuan moved to a nearby sofa and sat down, propping her cheek on her pale white hand. She tapped her index finger lightly against her cheek and said, “For piano, how about ‘Sicilienne’?”
Song Zhiqing’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She turned her head to look at her. “You like classical piano music, too?”
Ye Yuhuan nodded slightly. “Classical music is better at soothing the nerves. The timbre is mellow and clear, and the music has a stronger lasting impact.”
However, she had always assumed a chuunibyou school tyrant like Song Zhiqing would be more interested in avant-garde music. To her surprise, upon hearing her words, Song Zhiqing’s soft pink lips curved into what could be called an elegant smile. Ignoring the thick book of sheet music beside her, her long, beautiful fingers pressed down on the black and white keys. The melody flowed from those hands, which seemed to have been blessed by the Creator. Compared to the lyrical and slightly melancholic style of the original piece, the notes Song Zhiqing played seemed to carry her own cheerful emotions.
It was like a maiden waiting wistfully by the window for her lover had transformed into a lively girl boldly pursuing her love, strolling behind her beloved.
The analogy made Ye Yuhuan’s eyes flicker. This was indeed very Song Zhiqing.
But the Song Zhiqing who played the piano was different from the usual Song Zhiqing. Her shoulder-length black hair rested on her snow-white sweater, revealing two small, cute ears. Her brilliant face had lost its arrogant and domineering air. Her features were serene, as if all her emotions had melted into the music, drifting through this small space.
After she finished the piece, Song Zhiqing turned to look at Ye Yuhuan and saw her lost in thought again. A sly glint flashed in the dark pupils beneath her lashes. With a flick of her fingers, a more passionate and unrestrained “Hungarian Dance” echoed through the music room. Ye Yuhuan was pulled back from her thoughts by the music, and with a flash of insight, she guessed why Song Zhiqing had changed styles.
She always said she wanted to break her bad habit of zoning out.
Well, if this was the method of treatment, she supposed it wasn’t unacceptable.
When the piece ended, Song Zhiqing met Ye Yuhuan’s smiling, almond-shaped eyes. The tips of her ears turned red. She brushed her hair back to hide her embarrassment, stood up from the piano bench, and walked with feigned ease to the other side of the room. She picked up a guitar and strummed a little tune before she finally calmed down.
Damn it! Who’s seducing whom here? Me seducing Ye Yuhuan, or Ye Yuhuan seducing me?!
Unwilling to admit defeat, Song Zhiqing, like a proud peacock, showed off every instrument she knew how to play. Miss Song, the academic prodigy of love theory, hadn’t forgotten the fourth rule in the The Ultimate Guide to Wooing: Display your charm to the other party.
It had to be said, Song Zhiqing was indeed very talented. At least, Ye Yuhuan felt her skill was worthy of being called a performance. When it was over, she gave a round of enthusiastic applause, still wanting more, and praised her sincerely, “That was amazing.”
At first, Song Zhiqing just gave a reserved nod, but then she couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, without a trace of the composure a musician should have.
They had spent a good deal of time in the music room. One didn’t notice it while listening to music, but when Ye Yuhuan checked the time, she realized it was already close to nine-thirty. She prepared to stand up and say her goodbyes.
“I should be heading back then?”
Song Zhiqing’s eyes widened in confusion. “Back where?”
“Home.”
Song Zhiqing put down her flute, walked over, and took Ye Yuhuan’s arm. “Why go home? Can’t you stay the night at my place?” she pleaded.
She had no ulterior motives; she simply thought it was late and inconvenient to go back.
But Ye Yuhuan recalled the bunny pajamas from last time, and those two ambiguous kisses. To be honest, ever since Song Zhiqing had said that cryptic sentence in the dorm room, although they hadn’t given up their habit of napping together, Song Zhiqing no longer hugged her to sleep as naturally as before. Instead, she would unconsciously roll over and hug her in her sleep. Even though the result was always the two of them waking up and staring wide-eyed at each other, the difference in the process still hinted at something.
Something Ye Yuhuan was desperately trying to ignore.
Tonight, she had to ignore it as well, so she refused. “That’s okay, I have things to do when I get home.”
Song Zhiqing frowned. She could feel a sudden distance from Ye Yuhuan, and her heart lurched in panic. Was I too obvious? she thought.
Forcing a smile, Song Zhiqing said, “Then I’ll see you out.”
The two walked downstairs in silence. Gao Yiren was reading in the study, and the living room was empty. The Song family didn’t believe in putting on airs. Usually, when Song Zhiqing was alone, there was just one housekeeper to look after her and two maids responsible for cleaning. After Gao Yiren returned, they only added two more people. At this hour, they were all busy with their own tasks. Song Zhiqing heard her own footsteps gradually fade into the hardwood floor, while Ye Yuhuan’s shadow before her grew larger and longer as they moved away from the massive light source in the center of the living room.
It was as if, in the end, all she could leave behind was a mere shadow.
The thought struck Song Zhiqing with a pang of pain. Perhaps those who love art are all a bit sentimental. She suddenly spoke up, “Ye Yuhuan, were you happy just now?”
Ye Yuhuan stopped and lowered her eyes. “I was,” she replied.
“As long as you were happy.”
If she was happy, then her goal was achieved. Anything more was just her overthinking things.
But Song Zhiqing was very unhappy now, and Ye Yuhuan knew it. She sighed and turned around, her beautiful features coming together to form a helpless expression.
“First, I will not be wearing the bunny pajamas again,” Ye Yuhuan stated solemnly.
“Second, can I hear you play ‘Hungarian Dance’ one more time?”
She still felt that the Song Zhiqing who played “Hungarian Dance” was a happier one.
Of course, she was much happier now, too.
The newly cheerful Song Zhiqing put on her musician’s airs. “You said I’d be a great singer someday, right?”
Ye Yuhuan nodded.
“Well, this future great singer is now demanding her performance fee.”
Song Zhiqing lifted her fair chin, as delicate as a little princess. “You have to give me a hug.”
Ye Yuhuan hesitated for a second, then took a step forward and slowly opened her arms. A soft body immediately rushed into her embrace.
Ye Yuhuan placed her hands lightly on Song Zhiqing’s back, her usually indifferent and calm eyes filled with confusion.
She seemed to be heading in a certain direction, but she didn’t know what that direction was.
Coming out of the study on the second floor, Gao Yiren watched the two embracing girls downstairs with great interest. Why does it feel like my daughter’s path to love isn’t as bumpy as I’d imagined?
The next day, after having breakfast at the Song residence, Ye Yuhuan took Uncle Yu’s car to the psychiatric hospital where Si Shan was staying. This was another reason she hadn’t wanted to stay the night—today was her regular day to visit Si Shan.
After buying some of Si Shan’s favorite snacks and fruits at a nearby supermarket, Ye Yuhuan walked toward her aunt’s room.
Si Shan’s condition had improved a lot recently. The doctor said that if she continued like this, it was very likely she could make a full recovery again.
When Ye Yuhuan arrived, Si Shan was sitting by the window, reading. Seeing her niece arrive with another large bag of snacks, Si Shan advised helplessly, “You don’t have to bring so many snacks every time. Isn’t it tiring to carry? I’m not having episodes as often now, you don’t need to go to so much trouble.”
Ye Yuhuan put the snacks aside. “Better safe than sorry. If Shanshan appears and sees I didn’t bring her any snacks, she’ll definitely throw a fit.”
“Shanshan” was what they usually called the Barbie doll version of Si Shan.
Si Shan was truly touched by Ye Yuhuan’s thoughtfulness, but at this point, it seemed more like she was Ye Yuhuan’s niece.
Si Shan placed her book face down on the table and pinched the bridge of her nose, deciding to reclaim her role as an aunt.
“How have you been getting along with that good friend of yours recently? Your cold personality hasn’t made her angry, has it?”
Ye Yuhuan pressed her lips together and remained silent for a moment before saying, “I feel like things between her and me are… a little strange.”
Hearing this, Si Shan’s face immediately lit up with gossip. This classmate has some skills, she thought. She had never seen this expression on Ye Yuhuan before.
“How so?”
Ye Yuhuan chose her words carefully. “It’s… a very intimate feeling. Not like the intimacy between friends, but something closer, something that could be even closer still.”
Ye Yuhuan realized that even her carefully chosen words were a complete mess. She sat down on a nearby bench in frustration, trying to find a more suitable way to put it.
Si Shan was also confused. Having struggled with her illness for so long, she had no experience with romance, but she did have more experience with friendship than Ye Yuhuan.
“Good friends are probably all like that. My best friend from college and I wanted to stick together every single day.”
The possibility of romance never even crossed Si Shan’s mind. Perhaps it was because she had watched Ye Yuhuan grow up, and because her lucid memories were fragmented, she always felt that Ye Yuhuan was still a child.
A very mature child, but a child nonetheless. It was too early to be talking about love.
The budding speculation was thus suppressed by her elder’s assertion. Although Si Shan’s judgment didn’t perfectly fit the situation, it was logically sound. Ye Yuhuan accepted this explanation, pushing the hug from yesterday and being fed that morning to the back of her mind.
After checking on her niece’s social life, Si Shan said casually, “It’ll be the anniversary of your mother’s death soon.”
“But it’s also your birthday. So, will you do the same thing as before this year?”
Ye Yuhuan hummed softly in affirmation.
Si Shan let out an almost inaudible sigh.
This child, why is she so stubborn?
Two years ago, Si Zhen had run out of the hospital to celebrate Ye Yuhuan’s birthday. It was New Year’s Day, and school was out, so Si Zhen easily found Ye Yuhuan at home. That day, Si Zhen had seemed normal. She wasn’t irritable, nor did she shout. After making Ye Yuhuan a bowl of longevity noodles, she said she was going to buy her a birthday cake.
Ye Yuhuan tried to stop her, but she couldn’t. Besides, Si Zhen really did seem normal that night. She even reasoned with Ye Yuhuan, saying that a birthday wasn’t complete without making a wish.
Ye Yuhuan couldn’t win against her, so she had no choice but to go out with her.
And then, she watched as Si Zhen mistook a speeding car for a cake, lunged for it, and became a corpse.
To this day, no one knew if Si Zhen had regained her sanity that night. But Ye Yuhuan had never moved on from it.
She was still that same girl, standing on the roadside, watching her mother fly through the air.
Check out the new translations I’m updating:
- Playing the “Saint” in the Wasteland
- Without Rhyme or Reason
- Rivals in the Limelight
- Scripted Hearts
All four have 20 chapters out already, with a new chapter added every day. You can also find my other translations on The Fragrance of Lilies reading list.
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