Shi Ye had noticed Sheng Xia’s attire today. He was wearing a pair of white sneakers but had on a pair of red socks… Although it looked fine overall, Shi Ye inexplicably kept glancing at the exposed red socks.
Strange, but that strangeness… subtly harmonized with Sheng Xia’s demeanor.
After walking for a while, he noticed that Sheng Xia kept his head down and seemed low-spirited. So he casually asked, “You sang well last night. Do you like singing?”
Upon hearing this, Sheng Xia felt embarrassed and replied reluctantly, “I’m not good at playing the guitar. Teacher Shi Ye, you don’t need to comfort me.”
“I wasn’t evaluating your guitar skills; I meant your singing was good.” Shi Ye’s voice was straightforward, and he repeated, “Your singing was good.”
Sheng Xia didn’t know that Shi Ye rarely praised people. Nine out of ten times, his remarks were sarcastic. So hearing a simple ‘good’ was already unbelievable. At this moment, Sheng Xia felt that Shi Ye was just trying to comfort him. Moreover, he had no confidence in front of this person, so he could only reply awkwardly, “No… I just sing casually, as a hobby. I can’t compare to Teacher Shi Ye.”
“Just casually?” Shi Ye chuckled, “Well, singing is your hobby, and as someone who enjoys singing, you have many professional musical instruments at home, including a high-priced Steinway piano.”
Sheng Xia was speechless for a moment, knowing that Shi Ye probably saw his room. After hesitating for a while, he decided to be honest, “I… really like singing, I’ve liked it since I was young, and I’ve been playing the piano since then.”
That statement was still a lie. To be precise, he only started liking singing after knowing Fei Xingshi and Shi Ye.
Sheng Xia thought Shi Ye would say something, but Shi Ye just smiled and said, “That’s good, treating it as a hobby is also good, it’s a way to entertain yourself.”
“It’s not just for entertainment!” Sheng Xia blurted out, but when Shi Ye looked over, he avoided eye contact and continued softly, “It’s just… Teacher Shi Ye, I learned to speak later than others when I was young, and my expressive abilities seem weaker than others. I always feel like I can’t express myself, and others don’t understand me… But it wasn’t until I started playing the piano, reading music…”
Sheng Xia stumbled over his words as he walked, feeling unable to articulate himself properly. He became flustered and his face turned slightly red, “How should I put it… a few days ago, I read a travelogue by Haruki Murakami, called ‘If Our Language Were Whiskey.’ At that time, I felt the same way, thinking that music is more suitable for expressing myself than language. Maybe you think I’m strange… Singing is not just a pastime for me; it represents my emotions and myself, it’s also a kind of outlet…”
Feeling like he was becoming increasingly incoherent and confused, Sheng Xia gave up when he reached the end, turning his head to sigh for himself.
After listening to this passage, Shi Ye turned his head and looked at Sheng Xia seriously.
Many people of all kinds had passed through Shi Ye’s life, some with deep connections, some with shallow interactions. He could judge from the expressions that grew on those faces, what reaction the other party wanted from him, or what kind of person the other party judged him to be in their hearts. This was a necessary skill for him.
But Shi Ye couldn’t judge Sheng Xia’s nature from just a few interactions. Sometimes he felt like he could see through him, like a spring whose depths were visible at a glance, and other times he felt like Sheng Xia was like the sea and the sky… There seemed to be something unfamiliar to Shi Ye in those eyes that always lacked focus, something he couldn’t grasp himself.
Logically speaking, this younger boy in front of him, much younger than himself, was just a passing acquaintance for him, someone he happened to meet, and they might part ways tomorrow. Shi Ye was always weary of understanding someone who wouldn’t stay in his life, someone insignificant; it was meaningless behavior.
But strangely, he found himself curious about Sheng Xia.
Even more strangely, he actually felt a hint of envy towards this seemingly innocent boy in front of him, although he couldn’t articulate what he was envious of.
Shi Ye thought for a moment and said reassuringly, “Actually, when I was young, I often had feelings like yours… Feeling like the world didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand the world. Back then, I was reckless and always at odds with myself, angry every day. But your current state seems much healthier than mine, except for…” Shi Ye paused, hinting at something, “except for smoking.”
Another topic that Sheng Xia couldn’t defend himself against. He looked embarrassed, trying to find an excuse for himself, “Well… actually, men smoking isn’t a big deal. I know a few classmates…”
“How old are you to be calling yourself a man? At your age, to put it nicely, you’re a teenager, to put it bluntly, you’re just a half-grown kid.” Shi Ye chuckled this time, “Xie Hong said you’re not even an adult yet, smoking before eighteen will stunt your growth, little tour guide.”
Shi Ye’s tone was casual, but each word carried weight as they entered Sheng Xia’s ears, making him feel embarrassed.
The pride of youth led Sheng Xia to finally say, “I’m about to be an adult, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Okay, you’re an adult.” Shi Ye also knew that boys of this age had to go along with what they said, “But smoking isn’t good for adults either. Smoking is harmful to health and bad for your throat. You like singing, so you should take care of your voice.”
“But I’ve always hoped to have a smoker’s voice…” Sheng Xia seemed a bit embarrassed, “And there was a time, watching Cobain’s live performance, the way he smoked during the intermission, I thought it was really cool.”
Shi Ye thought he was really just a kid: “I’m not evaluating Cobain, let’s just talk about smoking. Personally, I don’t think smoking is cool, it’s bad for the body, it’s not beneficial. You see… when people talk about rock and roll, they often associate it with sex, violence, smoking, and drinking… how should I put it, I personally don’t like this stereotype. In my mind, rock and roll doesn’t have to be about decadence and darkness, rock and roll can also be healthy, it’s gentle, it’s a kind of power…”
Sheng Xia listened attentively, and as Shi Ye spoke, he saw hope and admiration in those eyes. He couldn’t continue, suddenly feeling at a loss, not understanding why he had inexplicably started teaching this kid.
“I understand, Teacher Shi Ye.” Sheng Xia lowered his head to look at his exposed red socks, “No one understands better than me.”
What gentleness?
Is it the wind, the sunlight, or this moment?
Is it rock and roll, music, or Shi Ye?
Sheng Xia whispered softly, and Shi Ye didn’t catch his last few words, so he asked, “What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” Sheng Xia raised his head, pointing to the storefront in front of them, “We’re here, Teacher Shi Ye.”
Later, while Shi Ye was getting his haircut in the shop, Sheng Xia quietly slipped into a corner where no one was around and smoked two cigarettes.
When did he start smoking? It seemed like when he was thirteen. Sheng Xia’s adolescence wasn’t easy because of his slender physique and poor communication skills, he was often bullied by classmates. He couldn’t remember those unpleasant memories clearly, but that was when he learned to smoke.
At that time, Zhao Wu was busy with her business, very busy, and couldn’t take care of him comprehensively. He would go home alone every day after school, listen to Fei Xingshi singing in his ears from a distance of 100 meters outside the neighborhood, smoke a few cigarettes, wait until the smoke dissipated, and then go home, playing the role of an obedient son.
Zhao Wu might know, or she might not, gradually Sheng Xia began to feel that it didn’t matter. At first, smoking wasn’t addictive, he just wanted to smoke at those few fixed points, like when he came home from school, listened to Fei Xingshi, woke up in the middle of the night and saw the stars in the attic, or when Zhao Wu said, “Be good, Mommy loves you.”
Strange habit. It wasn’t necessary to smoke, but it seemed like he needed an action opposite to ‘obedience’ to prove something, to rebel against something? Sheng Xia couldn’t describe it clearly, but in his mind, when he smoked, he was gray.
In the midst of the gray, there was a flickering red, the glowing tip of the cigarette when he breathed in and out, inhale, exhale, he had described it in his diary, feeling that the rhythm of smoking was like a heartbeat.
The person cutting Shi Ye’s hair was a guy with dyed blonde hair, probably in his early twenties. The shop was playing pop songs that Shi Ye hadn’t heard of and didn’t appreciate. Halfway through the haircut, the barber struck up a conversation, “You look familiar to me, like some celebrity… I think one of my buddies really likes him, I forgot what he’s called.” The barber smiled, “Looks good, a star face.”
Shi Ye didn’t say anything more, just smiled.
This solo trip gave him a realization; he wasn’t that special after all. Even though he had done so many tours, released so many bestselling albums, and had so many videos and discussions about himself on the internet, when he truly immersed himself in real life, he wasn’t recognized on the street as frequently as one might think.
Sometimes, even Shi Ye himself felt strange when he looked at himself in the mirror, as if something had distorted, it was indeed his face, but there was something different about it.
Not knowing him was also normal. It wasimpossible for everyone to have heard his songs, or to like him. When leaving the circle where he felt at home, Shi Ye was just a small presence.
When Sheng Xia walked in, Shi Ye had already finished his haircut and looked much better, busy taking out his wallet to pay. Sheng Xia heard Shi Ye laugh and say, “Why is it more expensive to get a haircut here in this small town than in Beijing?”
The cashier, who seemed a bit older, lazily yawned while propping up his head, not recognizing Shi Ye and replied, “The price of pork has gone up recently.”
Shi Ye: “? What does the price of haircuts have to do with the price of pork?”
Finally, the cashier raised his head to look at Shi Ye seriously and said in a Mandarin with a slight accent, “Because the barber needs to eat pork, so the barber shop raises its prices for haircuts. Get it?”
Shi Ye: “…”
Sheng Xia: “…”
Shi Ye had noticed Sheng Xia’s attire today. He was wearing a pair of white sneakers but had on a pair of red socks… Although it looked fine overall, Shi Ye inexplicably kept glancing at the exposed red socks.
Strange, but that strangeness… subtly harmonized with Sheng Xia’s demeanor.
After walking for a while, he noticed that Sheng Xia kept his head down and seemed low-spirited. So he casually asked, “You sang well last night. Do you like singing?”
Upon hearing this, Sheng Xia felt embarrassed and replied reluctantly, “I’m not good at playing the guitar. Teacher Shi Ye, you don’t need to comfort me.”
“I wasn’t evaluating your guitar skills; I meant your singing was good.” Shi Ye’s voice was straightforward, and he repeated, “Your singing was good.”
Sheng Xia didn’t know that Shi Ye rarely praised people. Nine out of ten times, his remarks were sarcastic. So hearing a simple ‘good’ was already unbelievable. At this moment, Sheng Xia felt that Shi Ye was just trying to comfort him. Moreover, he had no confidence in front of this person, so he could only reply awkwardly, “No… I just sing casually, as a hobby. I can’t compare to Teacher Shi Ye.”
“Just casually?” Shi Ye chuckled, “Well, singing is your hobby, and as someone who enjoys singing, you have many professional musical instruments at home, including a high-priced Steinway piano.”
Sheng Xia was speechless for a moment, knowing that Shi Ye probably saw his room. After hesitating for a while, he decided to be honest, “I… really like singing, I’ve liked it since I was young, and I’ve been playing the piano since then.”
That statement was still a lie. To be precise, he only started liking singing after knowing Fei Xingshi and Shi Ye.
Sheng Xia thought Shi Ye would say something, but Shi Ye just smiled and said, “That’s good, treating it as a hobby is also good, it’s a way to entertain yourself.”
“It’s not just for entertainment!” Sheng Xia blurted out, but when Shi Ye looked over, he avoided eye contact and continued softly, “It’s just… Teacher Shi Ye, I learned to speak later than others when I was young, and my expressive abilities seem weaker than others. I always feel like I can’t express myself, and others don’t understand me… But it wasn’t until I started playing the piano, reading music…”
Sheng Xia stumbled over his words as he walked, feeling unable to articulate himself properly. He became flustered and his face turned slightly red, “How should I put it… a few days ago, I read a travelogue by Haruki Murakami, called ‘If Our Language Were Whiskey.’ At that time, I felt the same way, thinking that music is more suitable for expressing myself than language. Maybe you think I’m strange… Singing is not just a pastime for me; it represents my emotions and myself, it’s also a kind of outlet…”
Feeling like he was becoming increasingly incoherent and confused, Sheng Xia gave up when he reached the end, turning his head to sigh for himself.
After listening to this passage, Shi Ye turned his head and looked at Sheng Xia seriously.
Many people of all kinds had passed through Shi Ye’s life, some with deep connections, some with shallow interactions. He could judge from the expressions that grew on those faces, what reaction the other party wanted from him, or what kind of person the other party judged him to be in their hearts. This was a necessary skill for him.
But Shi Ye couldn’t judge Sheng Xia’s nature from just a few interactions. Sometimes he felt like he could see through him, like a spring whose depths were visible at a glance, and other times he felt like Sheng Xia was like the sea and the sky… There seemed to be something unfamiliar to Shi Ye in those eyes that always lacked focus, something he couldn’t grasp himself.
Logically speaking, this younger boy in front of him, much younger than himself, was just a passing acquaintance for him, someone he happened to meet, and they might part ways tomorrow. Shi Ye was always weary of understanding someone who wouldn’t stay in his life, someone insignificant; it was meaningless behavior.
But strangely, he found himself curious about Sheng Xia.
Even more strangely, he actually felt a hint of envy towards this seemingly innocent boy in front of him, although he couldn’t articulate what he was envious of.
Shi Ye thought for a moment and said reassuringly, “Actually, when I was young, I often had feelings like yours… Feeling like the world didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand the world. Back then, I was reckless and always at odds with myself, angry every day. But your current state seems much healthier than mine, except for…” Shi Ye paused, hinting at something, “except for smoking.”
Another topic that Sheng Xia couldn’t defend himself against. He looked embarrassed, trying to find an excuse for himself, “Well… actually, men smoking isn’t a big deal. I know a few classmates…”
“How old are you to be calling yourself a man? At your age, to put it nicely, you’re a teenager, to put it bluntly, you’re just a half-grown kid.” Shi Ye chuckled this time, “Xie Hong said you’re not even an adult yet, smoking before eighteen will stunt your growth, little tour guide.”
Shi Ye’s tone was casual, but each word carried weight as they entered Sheng Xia’s ears, making him feel embarrassed.
The pride of youth led Sheng Xia to finally say, “I’m about to be an adult, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Okay, you’re an adult.” Shi Ye also knew that boys of this age had to go along with what they said, “But smoking isn’t good for adults either. Smoking is harmful to health and bad for your throat. You like singing, so you should take care of your voice.”
“But I’ve always hoped to have a smoker’s voice…” Sheng Xia seemed a bit embarrassed, “And there was a time, watching Cobain’s live performance, the way he smoked during the intermission, I thought it was really cool.”
Shi Ye thought he was really just a kid: “I’m not evaluating Cobain, let’s just talk about smoking. Personally, I don’t think smoking is cool, it’s bad for the body, it’s not beneficial. You see… when people talk about rock and roll, they often associate it with sex, violence, smoking, and drinking… how should I put it, I personally don’t like this stereotype. In my mind, rock and roll doesn’t have to be about decadence and darkness, rock and roll can also be healthy, it’s gentle, it’s a kind of power…”
Sheng Xia listened attentively, and as Shi Ye spoke, he saw hope and admiration in those eyes. He couldn’t continue, suddenly feeling at a loss, not understanding why he had inexplicably started teaching this kid.
“I understand, Teacher Shi Ye.” Sheng Xia lowered his head to look at his exposed red socks, “No one understands better than me.”
What gentleness?
Is it the wind, the sunlight, or this moment?
Is it rock and roll, music, or Shi Ye?
Sheng Xia whispered softly, and Shi Ye didn’t catch his last few words, so he asked, “What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” Sheng Xia raised his head, pointing to the storefront in front of them, “We’re here, Teacher Shi Ye.”
Later, while Shi Ye was getting his haircut in the shop, Sheng Xia quietly slipped into a corner where no one was around and smoked two cigarettes.
When did he start smoking? It seemed like when he was thirteen. Sheng Xia’s adolescence wasn’t easy because of his slender physique and poor communication skills, he was often bullied by classmates. He couldn’t remember those unpleasant memories clearly, but that was when he learned to smoke.
At that time, Zhao Wu was busy with her business, very busy, and couldn’t take care of him comprehensively. He would go home alone every day after school, listen to Fei Xingshi singing in his ears from a distance of 100 meters outside the neighborhood, smoke a few cigarettes, wait until the smoke dissipated, and then go home, playing the role of an obedient son.
Zhao Wu might know, or she might not, gradually Sheng Xia began to feel that it didn’t matter. At first, smoking wasn’t addictive, he just wanted to smoke at those few fixed points, like when he came home from school, listened to Fei Xingshi, woke up in the middle of the night and saw the stars in the attic, or when Zhao Wu said, “Be good, Mommy loves you.”
Strange habit. It wasn’t necessary to smoke, but it seemed like he needed an action opposite to ‘obedience’ to prove something, to rebel against something? Sheng Xia couldn’t describe it clearly, but in his mind, when he smoked, he was gray.
In the midst of the gray, there was a flickering red, the glowing tip of the cigarette when he breathed in and out, inhale, exhale, he had described it in his diary, feeling that the rhythm of smoking was like a heartbeat.
The person cutting Shi Ye’s hair was a guy with dyed blonde hair, probably in his early twenties. The shop was playing pop songs that Shi Ye hadn’t heard of and didn’t appreciate. Halfway through the haircut, the barber struck up a conversation, “You look familiar to me, like some celebrity… I think one of my buddies really likes him, I forgot what he’s called.” The barber smiled, “Looks good, a star face.”
Shi Ye didn’t say anything more, just smiled.
This solo trip gave him a realization; he wasn’t that special after all. Even though he had done so many tours, released so many bestselling albums, and had so many videos and discussions about himself on the internet, when he truly immersed himself in real life, he wasn’t recognized on the street as frequently as one might think.
Sometimes, even Shi Ye himself felt strange when he looked at himself in the mirror, as if something had distorted, it was indeed his face, but there was something different about it.
Not knowing him was also normal. It wasimpossible for everyone to have heard his songs, or to like him. When leaving the circle where he felt at home, Shi Ye was just a small presence.
When Sheng Xia walked in, Shi Ye had already finished his haircut and looked much better, busy taking out his wallet to pay. Sheng Xia heard Shi Ye laugh and say, “Why is it more expensive to get a haircut here in this small town than in Beijing?”
The cashier, who seemed a bit older, lazily yawned while propping up his head, not recognizing Shi Ye and replied, “The price of pork has gone up recently.”
Shi Ye: “? What does the price of haircuts have to do with the price of pork?”
Finally, the cashier raised his head to look at Shi Ye seriously and said in a Mandarin with a slight accent, “Because the barber needs to eat pork, so the barber shop raises its prices for haircuts. Get it?”
Shi Ye: “…”
Sheng Xia: “…”
