She thought to herself that he probably had indeed learned it well enough.
But she still habitually typed: Don’t try to act tough, as your best…
She paused at this point, her fingers stopping on the screen, and after a while, she continued: As your best bro, I definitely won’t mock you.
Chi Yao only replied with two words—
Come over
Lin Zhexia: What do you mean, come over?
My place—
Come see if I’ve learned it or not.
…
Lin Zhexia hesitated for a moment, looking at her phone, but her desire to see won out over other feelings.
A few minutes later, she stood at Chi Yao’s door: “Excuse me, your ordered applause audience has arrived.”
Chi Yao stood at the door: “When did I order an applause audience?”
Lin Zhexia: “If you don’t want it, you can unsubscribe.”
“…”
In the end, Chi Yao didn’t say much more and stepped aside to let her in.
Lin Zhexia sat in the living room and saw the natural wood-colored guitar standing against the wall. Chi Yao’s home had sufficient heating; today, he wore only a very thin shirt at home, paired casually with comfortable lounging pants.
Even though this shirt on him didn’t make him look particularly well-behaved, it created a certain unusual contrast with his face.
“I’m ready,” Lin Zhexia said, sitting up straight while hugging a cushion, “Ready to be amazed by your incredible guitar skills.”
“You should prepare something else,” Chi Yao said.
“?”
“An 800-word reflection paper, I’ll check it tomorrow.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia suddenly remembered the short essay from military training.
She slowed her speech and said, “I think we shouldn’t be too vain. Enjoying reading short essays isn’t a good habit.”
Chi Yao glanced at her without saying more, rolled up the sleeves of his loose shirt a few times, then picked up the guitar leaning against the wall with one hand.
When Chi Yao’s hands pressed the chords, it was much as she had imagined. He moved across the frets easily, his knuckles tense from the pressure. After pressing down, his right hand strummed downward.
Clean, crisp guitar notes poured forth.
There were only the two of them in the room.
The afternoon sunlight that day was gentle, shining in through the half-drawn curtains.
Lin Zhexia watched as the young man’s slender fingers somewhat awkwardly changed positions, while simple chord sounds reached her ears.
This scene was too intimate, momentarily creating an illusion.
As if he were playing just for her alone.
As if he had learned this solely to play for her at this moment.
After this illusion, she felt a bit regretful, regretting that she had helped Xu Ting persuade him to perform on stage.
Because she discovered.
She had become very selfish.
So selfish that she wanted to hide this moment’s Chi Yao away.
To make it a scene that only she could see, existing only in her memory.
When he finished, Chi Yao looked up at her and reminded her: “Miss Audience, aren’t you forgetting something?”
Lin Zhexia came back to her senses and gave him an exaggerated round of applause: “This music should only exist in heaven.”
“I never expected that not only are you good at studies, but your achievements in music and art also far exceed ordinary people.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia racked her brain, using all her knowledge to praise him for a while, then casually asked: “By the way, didn’t you say you wouldn’t perform on stage? Why did you agree after all?”
After a while, Chi Yao finally spoke, but when he answered her, his voice was somewhat lower: “…What do you think?”
These three ordinary words somehow made the atmosphere turn strange.
Lin Zhexia felt inexplicably constrained and hugged the cushion in her arms tightly.
“I…” she said, “How would I know?”
Chi Yao stood against the light from the window, one hand resting on the guitar, the other hanging down. His Adam’s apple moved slightly, as if he had painfully swallowed the true reason.
When he looked up again, he had that irritating expression once more.
Finally, he said lightly: “Because—you were right, someone like me not being on stage would indeed be a loss.”
“…?”