Shanghai Conservatory of Music.
Inside the Room 205 girls’ dormitory.
Jiang Yu was lying sideways on her bed, legs propped straight up against the wall, sighing miserably. “What are we going to do? Music Production and Songwriting is Monday afternoon, that’s only two days away — how are we supposed to write a whole song?”
Holding that position was supposed to improve flexibility, slim the legs, and help with weight control, so aside from Chen Qingqing, the other three had all gotten into the habit of lying with their legs up the wall for a while before bed.
Zhang Ruowei said, “Qin Wenwen next door says they’re planning to just buy a track online and write their own lyrics over it. Should we do the same?”
Shen Xinyi said, “Would that even work? And besides, even if we buy a track — can any of us actually write lyrics?”
“Uh…”
The dorm fell into a brief silence. Then Zhang Ruowei noticed Chen Qingqing still lying on her bed, chatting on her phone and smiling to herself. She called out directly, “Chen Qingqing, look what time it is, and you’re still texting Xu Ye. You’re beyond saving.”
Only then did Chen Qingqing put her phone down. Finding all three roommates staring dead at her, she said, a little embarrassed, “The song thing — I… I don’t know what to do about it either.”
Friday morning, on a sudden whim, the Music Production and Songwriting instructor had assigned the class a project: each dormitory, as a unit, had to write one folk-style song and perform it in the next class. The instructor would then grade their work, and the grade would tie directly into their final semester marks — so after that class let out, every student had started fretting about it.
“Ugh, this is such a pain.”
“I know an upperclassman in the folk music department. I’ll go ask him for help tomorrow.”
“Looks like there’s no going out this weekend.”
“…”
Seeing her three roommates fall back into conversation, Chen Qingqing quietly picked her phone up again to answer Xu Ye’s messages.
Chen Qingqing: “Maybe don’t come tomorrow.”
Xu Ye: “Why?”
Chen Qingqing: “The teacher gave us an assignment — we have to write a song, and none of us in the dorm have any idea where to start. We probably won’t have time this weekend.”
Xu Ye: “Don’t do that, I’ve already planned to come find you first thing tomorrow.”
Chen Qingqing: “Come next week, then.”
Xu Ye: “I can’t wait that long.”
Xu Ye: “I already miss you right now.”
Chen Qingqing replied with a red face: “Even if you come, I won’t have time for you anyway.”
Xu Ye: “Doesn’t matter. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
Chen Qingqing: “What are you, a little tagalong?”
Xu Ye, full of conviction: “Yes. I’m going to be your little tagalong.”
Chen Qingqing was about to type a reply — but what she didn’t know was that Zhang Ruowei had already snuck up to the top bunk. She’d barely gotten two characters out before Zhang Ruowei pounced right on top of her and snatched the phone out of her hands. “Staring at your phone grinning like an idiot — let me just see what you and Xu Ye are talking about.”
“Give it back!” Terrified Zhang Ruowei would see the chat history, Chen Qingqing scrambled to grab it back.
But she was no match for Zhang Ruowei, who held the phone up high, reading aloud as she went. It wasn’t until she’d read out a good dozen lines of fairly charged back-and-forth that she finally returned the phone, then said, with great solemnity, “Qingqing, I’ve noticed that ever since you went to see Xu Ye last week, your head is completely full of him now. I’m telling you — this is a dangerous place to be.”
Chen Qingqing argued back, red-faced. “It is not.”
“Still denying it.” Zhang Ruowei was unimpressed. “Since the start of the semester, I’ve heard you talk in your sleep exactly three times. Two of them, you were calling out for Xu Ye. The other time, you were saying ‘dumb pig.'”
Jiang Yu’s hand shot up. “I heard it too.”
Shen Xinyi laughed. “I only caught it once — Monday night.”
“I’m done with all of you.” Chen Qingqing’s face was burning. She yanked the blanket up and buried her head under it.
Zhang Ruowei grinned. “Qingqing, remember this — never trust a man who says he misses you after eleven at night, because at that hour it might not be him talking. It might be his… little brother.” [TL: a bawdy joke — the implication being that late-night affection from a man is driven by a certain part of his anatomy rather than his heart]
Xu Ye, seeing Chen Qingqing go quiet for a long while, sent several messages in a row.
Xu Ye: “Hello?”
Xu Ye: “Hey?”
Xu Ye: “What’s going on.”
Curled up under her blanket, Chen Qingqing slowly typed: “Ruowei just grabbed my phone.”
Xu Ye: “How’d she grab it?”
Chen Qingqing: “She pinned me down and took it right out of my hands.”
Xu Ye: “Fine. However she bullied you today, I’ll bully her the exact same way tomorrow.”
Chen Qingqing: “You can’t!”
Chen Qingqing: “You jerk!”
Xu Ye: “I’m just kidding.”
Chen Qingqing: “I’m going to sleep.”
Xu Ye: “Goodnight.”
Chen Qingqing: “Goodnight.”
…
The next morning, before nine o’clock, Xu Ye was already downstairs at the girls’ dormitory.
He texted Chen Qingqing, waited five or six minutes, and all four of them came down together.
Chen Qingqing had her guitar slung over her back, and Shen Xinyi carried a flute. Zhang Ruowei and Jiang Yu had their own instruments they were good at too, but things like piano and pipa weren’t exactly portable.
Zhang Ruowei’s opening line the moment she saw him: “Xu Ye, you’re here again.”
“What?” Xu Ye said. “Not welcome?”
She rolled her eyes. “Welcome, of course you’re welcome. If I said you weren’t, Qingqing would probably get mad at me.”
Xu Ye couldn’t be bothered engaging with her. Seeing them all set to head out, he asked casually, “Where are you off to?”
“The instrument room.”
Shen Xinyi took Chen Qingqing’s hand. “Xu Ye, Qingqing doesn’t have time to keep you company today. We have to go write a song together.”
“I know. She told me last night.”
“Then why’d you come anyway?”
Xu Ye smiled. “I came to help you.”
“Help us?”
“Yeah. You need to write a song, right? That happens to be my specialty.”
Zhang Ruowei scoffed. “Please, I don’t buy it.”
Chen Qingqing started to say something, then stopped.
Seeing that they all clearly thought he was bragging, Xu Ye didn’t bother explaining. He just smiled and said, “If I actually write you a song, how are you going to thank me?”
Zhang Ruowei huffed. “If you can really write a song, then whatever you want, you’ve got it.”
“Jiang Yu, you?”
“Same for me.”
“Shen Xinyi?”
“Same.”
Xu Ye smiled. “You said it yourselves. Don’t go back on it later.”
Chen Qingqing finally spoke up, in a small voice. “Ruowei, Jiang Yu, Xinyi — don’t make bets with him. He… he… he really can.”
“Isn’t he a finance major?”
Chen Qingqing stressed it again. “But he really can.”
Zhang Ruowei knew Chen Qingqing wouldn’t lie — but a finance student who could write songs was still a hard sell for her. “We’ll find out soon enough whether he can or not,” she said.
Shen Xinyi, watching Chen Qingqing’s cautious little warnings and Xu Ye’s supremely confident air, suddenly felt a twinge of regret.
This Xu Ye was up to no good.
But Qingqing was here.
Surely he wouldn’t ask for anything too outrageous… right?
(End of Chapter 124)