Chapter 115: A Song, A Story (Please Subscribe)
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At the studio, just as Yang Qing and Qin Xue stepped out of the elevator, they ran straight into Wang Ming.
Wang Ming’s face brightened the moment he saw Yang Qing arriving. A faint melody seemed to play in his mind! Yet, he quickly masked it with a feigned curiosity and asked,
“Oh, Brother Yang, Team Leader Qin, what brings you here today? Got some free time?”
Yang Qing smiled, “I’m here to fulfill the promise I made to your sister.”
“Oh, haha... that’s great!” Wang Ming’s suspicions were confirmed, and he couldn’t help but laugh, “My sister’s in the rehearsal room. Come, I’ll take you there.”
“Alright,” Yang Qing nodded.
Wang Ming led the way towards the rehearsal room, smiling as he asked, “Brother Yang, how was the negotiation at the TV station today? Smooth?”
“Very smooth!” Yang Qing laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Your diva’s manager really knows her stuff. Following your advice, we maximized our benefits!”
“Ha! Of course!”
Wang Ming beamed proudly and began to share a series of negotiation tactics with Yang Qing—one after another, as if unveiling a new world. Yang Qing listened eagerly, as if discovering a new continent.
Qin Xue, watching the two men laughing and almost putting their arms around each other, couldn’t help but roll her eyes and say dryly, “Is it really appropriate for you two to discuss this so openly in front of me?”
“Gah!”
Yang Qing and Wang Ming immediately stopped laughing and composed themselves, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Wang Ming, ever the seasoned veteran, instantly adopted a solemn and upright demeanor.
Yang Qing, however, was less composed; he glanced awkwardly at Qin Xue, only to be caught…
When their eyes met, his face flushed crimson. Hastily averting his gaze and clearing his throat, he turned to Wang Ming and asked, “Where’s Ke’er? Haven’t seen her these days.”
“She’s off studying and training,” Wang Ming’s eyes flickered with fondness. “My sister’s concert is coming up soon. Ke’er will be performing on stage. To make her debut a success, my sister arranged for her to learn music theory and vocal techniques systematically.”
“Oh, that’s quite good.”
Yang Qing’s embarrassed expression returned to normal, and he smiled, “This is a great opportunity your sister has given Ke’er. It all depends on whether she can seize it.”
“Mm,” Wang Ming nodded. “Ke’er knows that, so she’s been training very hard lately, too busy to answer my calls. I’m worried…”
“Worried? Worried about what? That you can’t catch up to her?”
“Nonsense! I’m worried she might overstrain her voice and damage it. So, Brother Yang…”
At this point, Wang Ming looked at Yang Qing with sincere earnestness and said, “I want to ask you for a favor.”
“Hm? What is it? Go ahead,” Yang Qing replied, surprised.
Wang Ming said, “I want to ask if Qiu’er and the others could video call Ke’er every day for a chat—anything at all. It would help relieve her stress and let her relax.”
“Sure, no problem,” Yang Qing nodded. “No need to limit it to one call—three times a day would be fine, and they wouldn’t get tired of it.”
“Ha ha... that’s great!”
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Wang Ming laughed as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. His steps quickened with joy.
Upon entering the rehearsal room, they saw Wang Ying casually tied her hair back, fully concentrated on vocal exercises, emitting a series of “ah” and “oh” sounds.
“Sis, Brother Yang and Team Leader Qin are here.”
Wang Ming’s voice interrupted Wang Ying’s practice. She turned and glanced at Yang Qing and Qin Xue, smiling warmly.
“You’re here. Have a seat.”
Yang Qing and Qin Xue sat casually on the sofa in the rehearsal room. Wang Ming poured water for them and then sat beside his diva sister.
“Are you here to deliver a song for me?” Wang Ying said without pretense, looking straight at Yang Qing.
Yang Qing nodded, “Yes.”
“Well… where’s the song? Give it to me.”
“Uh… do you have paper and a pen? I’ll write it down.”
Wang Ying’s beautiful eyes widened. “...You’re writing it now?!”
Yang Qing was embarrassed, “Ahem... well... um...”
“Brother Yang, don’t pretend. We all understand. Give it here, perform for us.”
At that moment, Wang Ming pulled out paper and a pen, handing them to Yang Qing with an intrigued and expectant expression.
Yang Qing: ...
What am I supposed to do with this?
He glanced helplessly at Qin Xue. Seeing this, she smiled gently and softly took his hand, saying, “Outstanding people sometimes face unfair criticism. Why bother caring about the opinions of the common folk?”
Wang Ming: ...
Damn! Is this really necessary? If you’re feeding me love scenes, just do it. No need to take the long way around to jab me!
“Mm.”
Yang Qing smiled, shaking his head lightly before picking up the pen and paper to begin writing.
The other three silently watched as he composed the song—curious, surprised, yet strangely accustomed to this scene.
It was a contradictory feeling. They seemed to have grown used to Yang Qing’s antics to the point that it would be more surprising if he ever stopped pretending.
This gradually aligned with the miracle plan Yang Qing had in mind: familiarity breeds no surprise, and eventually, quantitative changes lead to qualitative transformation.
When the song was finished, Yang Qing handed it to Wang Ying. She studied it, then hummed the melody softly. As she hummed, a wave of melancholy swept over her, her eyes glistening with tears.
“What’s this song called? You forgot to write the title,” she said softly to Yang Qing.
“Longing,” Yang Qing replied quietly.
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“Longing… such a fitting title: ‘The oldest forgotten ancient poems, the most disdainful is longing.’”
Wang Ying looked at Yang Qing with melancholic determination, “This song will become a classic! I guarantee it!”
“Mm,” Yang Qing nodded seriously, “I believe you.”
“Longing…”
At that moment, Qin Xue murmured softly, then asked Wang Ying, “Can I have a look?”
“Sure.”
Wang Ying nodded and handed the lyrics to Qin Xue. As she read through the words, her emotions were slowly stirred.
After a while, she looked at Yang Qing and softly asked, “Qing, does this song have a story?”
“A story…”
Yang Qing’s gaze grew distant as he murmured, “It’s a love story I once heard. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes!”
Both Qin Xue and Wang Ying nodded in unison, their eyes filled with tenderness as they looked at him.
Yang Qing’s gaze returned to the two women, admiring their exquisite beauty as his voice rose:
“That year, she had just graduated from junior high. At sixteen, as beautiful and radiant as you both are now, she lived in a time when society was just beginning to develop. Talents were needed everywhere. So, responding to the country’s call, she, like many educated youths, was given a collective title: ‘Zhiqing’—educated youth sent to the countryside.”
“They bid farewell to their parents and loved ones, left their hometowns, and embarked on a distant journey. Singing revolutionary songs, they looked forward to the future and arrived in the barren, loess-covered land of northern Shaanxi.”
Yang Qing’s tone grew somber: “They were assigned to groups and sent to the third production team. At that time, most lived in cave dwellings, which were bitterly cold in winter. She and a few other female educated youths shared a cave to sleep.”
“They endured the winter, and when spring came, their days were filled with busyness, but it was fulfilling because their hearts held light.”
“One night, however, a heavy rainstorm suddenly broke. Her roommate hadn’t returned late that evening, and she grew worried, rushing out to look for her…”
“But before she could step out of the cave, the low-lying cave was flooded by the surging rainwater. She was swept down, panicked, and scrambled onto the kang (heated bed), but the water kept rising.”
“Gradually, the flood reached her waist. Fear, terror, and despair gripped her.”
“She screamed and cried out desperately, but all that answered was the relentless pattering of the rain…”
“The water rose higher and higher, reaching her neck. She stopped screaming, tears streaming, and gave up.”
At this moment, Yang Qing’s voice softened with sadness as he slowly continued, “She didn’t want to die—not at all. She was only seventeen; her life was just beginning. She still had dreams to fulfill. How could she accept leaving so—leaving her family, leaving the country she loved, this land she cherished so deeply…”
“But what choice did she have?”
One second to remember 114 Chinese: