When it came to singing, Shu Nian quite enjoyed it as a child. Sitting in front of the television, she would always sing along with the songs played in cartoons, believing she sang quite well.
Shu Nian never thought there was anything wrong with her singing.
Her parents never corrected her either, finding it cute and amusing, so they let her be.
Until junior high school began.
Music class had exams, and at the end of the semester, everyone had to go on stage and sing a song. They could choose to sing alone or find people to form a team and sing together.
At that time, Shu Nian sang Ouyang Feifei’s “Grateful Heart.”
Before she even finished, Shu Nian noticed the entire class trying to hold back their laughter. She found it strange but still persevered and finished the whole song.
After coming off stage, she asked He Xiaoying and only then learned that she had been off-key.
And she had been egregiously off-key.
After being mocked many times, Shu Nian no longer loved singing. Even if she wanted to sing, she would only do so secretly, alone in her room, quietly.
But after Shu Nian became friends with Xie Ruhe.
Once, she was in high spirits. Without thinking much, she started singing in front of him. At that time, Xie Ruhe listened for quite a while, his expression somewhat strange, and finally reluctantly said one sentence.
—”I recognize the lyrics you’re singing, but I’ve never heard this song before.”
The meaning of that sentence was the same as what Xie Ruhe had just said now.
Shu Nian lowered her eyes and remained silent.
Soon, Xie Ruhe noticed her mood and his lips moved slightly. He didn’t want Shu Nian to be unhappy, so he awkwardly offered an excuse: “If you don’t sing the lyrics, I can’t tell whether you’re singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ or ‘The Alphabet Song.'”
The atmosphere went cold for a few seconds.
“These two songs,” Shu Nian thought were somewhat similar, considered for a moment, and said uncertainly, “seem to have the same melody.”
Xie Ruhe turned his head to look at her: “Is that so?”
Shu Nian thought they were indeed the same, but she didn’t dare sing to prove it, so she could only say softly: “They should be.”
“Then I must have remembered wrong,” Xie Ruhe said with a bland expression. “Your pitch is fine.”
Shu Nian paused, very lacking in confidence: “Really?”
“Mm.” Xie Ruhe said seriously, “You just need to sing along tomorrow.”
During their conversation, the two had arrived at the nearby station.
Although Shu Nian wasn’t comforted by his words, she didn’t bring up the topic again. She helped Xie Ruhe hail a taxi, and because she wasn’t quite sure how he would get into the car, she stood awkwardly beside him.
Xie Ruhe, however, was quite adept. With the door wide open, the wheelchair slightly angled, he supported himself on the armrests and, using the strength in his arms, quickly sat in the back seat. Then, he bent over and moved his legs into the car.
Feeling that she couldn’t help at all, Shu Nian simply turned her attention to the wheelchair.
But in the next moment, Xie Ruhe reached out, pressed down on the wheels, and directly detached the two large wheels. The wheelchair came apart into three pieces, which he placed inside the car.
Watching his series of actions, Shu Nian blinked, suddenly remembering: “Wasn’t your hand uncomfortable?”
Xie Ruhe’s movements paused, and he stiffly made a sound of agreement.
“Then make sure to rest well when you get back,” Shu Nian didn’t take it too seriously, “Contact me when you’re free, goodbye.”
Hearing this, Xie Ruhe looked at her. Then, he nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Mm, goodbye.”
The next day, Shu Nian arrived at the same recording studio half an hour early, according to the specified time.
During the waiting period, several more people gradually arrived outside the studio. There were fewer people than Shu Nian had imagined, around ten or so.
Shu Nian secretly observed the others, and a few looked quite familiar. They were voice-acting novices just like her, whom she often saw as she went to various recording studios.
Shu Nian brought her attention back and began to worry about the singing again.
After all, each profession has its specialties. Although Shu Nian had seen instances where senior colleagues had to sing for their roles, usually the singer would record the song first, and then the actor would lip-sync to it.
There were examples of voice actors singing, but it was never a rigid requirement.
Just then, a group of people came from the direction of the elevator. From this distance, there seemed to be seven or eight of them, most with unfamiliar faces. Apart from Li Qing, Shu Nian hadn’t seen any of them before.
She was about to look away.
Suddenly, she noticed a man toward the back, partially hidden by others. His expression was indifferent, his eyes lowered as he looked at something, with someone pushing his wheelchair from behind. A middle-aged man beside him kept talking to him, but he completely ignored the conversation.
A nonchalant demeanor.
Upon seeing the man’s face, Shu Nian’s expression instantly froze.
Li Qing walked over, greeted them, and after confirming everyone was present, he briefly introduced the group standing behind him.
They were the producer, the film director, the sound engineer, assistants…
Until the last one.
Li Qing hesitated, first glanced at the producer, then said: “This is Teacher A-He.”
The people standing in front of Shu Nian politely called out “Teacher A-He” and also gave a slight bow. Shu Nian was still in a daze, and when she reacted, she quickly called out as well, her tiny voice drowned out by the others.
Almost as soon as the words left her mouth.