Chapter Fifteen: The Dandelion by the Water’s Edge

After finishing her meal in the cafeteria, Cheng Xiaoyu made a special trip to the campus store, buying several pieces of chocolate and three bottles of soy milk. She shoved one bottle into Wang Ou’s hands, who accepted it with a puzzled look, saying, “I don’t drink this.” Cheng Xiaoyu replied irritably, “Even if you don’t drink it, you have to hold it for me.” Wang Ou let out an “oh” and followed Cheng Xiaoyu back to the classroom.

As they passed by Xia Shamo’s desk, Cheng Xiaoyu casually placed the soy milk and chocolate on the table, saying, “Here, these are yours.” Xia Shamo was a bit surprised and quickly refused, “I’m already full.” Cheng Xiaoyu feigned a troubled expression, pretending to plead, “Do me a favor, I bought too much. Just have a little, don’t be so polite with me. Look at Wang Dazhuang’s gluttonous belly—I can’t bear to torment him any further.”

Wang Ou responded swiftly, immediately raising the soy milk and declaring, “Cheng Xiaopang, you rebel! Smearing my reputation behind my back. In the name of the gods, with light as my sword, I shall punish your unforgivable sin! Tremble, mortal!”

Cheng Xiaoyu spread her hands in a gesture that clearly said, “This is an idiot.” Xia Shamo covered her mouth, laughing. Seeing her accept without protest, Cheng Xiaoyu pretended to join Wang Ou in a playful scuffle. “Take my Pegasus Meteor Fist!”

“Hey, mine is ‘Asura and Peacock King.’ What’s Pegasus Meteor Fist supposed to be?”

“Well, let’s switch moves. Secret Technique: Hundred Mechanisms Performance…”

“Never heard of it, what kind of move is that?”

“Seriously? You haven’t even watched Naruto, yet you act so chuunibyou!”

“I’m a senior, not a middle schooler.” Leaning in close to Cheng Xiaoyu’s ear, he whispered, “Surrender now, or I’ll tell Xia Shamo you’re interested in her!” Cheng Xiaoyu could only throw up her hands in defeat, allowing Wang Ou to unleash what he claimed was his most dazzling ultimate move.

After school, Cheng Xiaoyu called out to Xia Shamo, taking out a few sheets of paper filled with musical staves, untitled. Xia Shamo glanced at them and said, “Why are all the lyrics written in pinyin?” Cheng Xiaoyu replied nonchalantly, “Because they aren’t in Chinese!”

Xia Shamo didn’t ask further, slipping the sheet music into her backpack. “I’ll look at it when I get home. I’m heading off now.”

Cheng Xiaoyu asked, “Do you know who in our class can play the drum set?” Xia Shamo glanced at the now-empty seat in the second row, center. “Chen Haoran, I think. As for others, I’m not sure.”

Cheng Xiaoyu nodded with satisfaction. “Alright then, goodbye.” Xia Shamo hoisted her backpack and waved farewell to Cheng Xiaoyu. Her slender figure and graceful hand seemed like those of a temple maiden in a Greek oil painting.

Watching Xia Shamo walk off, Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but wave vigorously after her, calling out, “Be sure to read it carefully!” From afar, Xia Shamo turned back and nodded. Cheng Xiaoyu felt as if he could see the transparent yet sturdy shield shimmering around her in the sunlight.

Teacher Ji had already texted him, asking him to help accompany in the school’s small auditorium. Usually, it wouldn’t take too long, and Cheng Xiaoyu had never considered refusing the music teacher who looked at him with warm sympathy.

Arriving at the auditorium, Ji Xin was perusing sheet music. Cheng Xiaoyu glanced at the title, “Sing of China,” likely a selection for the choir. Ji Xin looked up as Cheng Xiaoyu entered, closed the sheet music, and said, “I heard you made a bet with Li Liwei?”

Cheng Xiaoyu lowered his head, replying, “It’s just classmates messing around.”

“Do you have something prepared for the performance?”

“I have some ideas, but nothing certain yet.”

“Oh, you… If you prepare something, perform it for me—I’ll give you some guidance.” Ji Xin wasn’t entirely sure of Cheng Xiaoyu’s musical abilities; when she called him to accompany, his playing was always proper but never particularly outstanding.

Cheng Xiaoyu knew Ji Xin cared, but didn’t think he needed special coaching. “Thank you, Teacher Ji. When I’m ready, I’ll definitely ask for your advice.”

Ji Xin hesitated. “You’re not planning to perform a piano solo, are you?” Cheng Xiaoyu replied, “Probably not. I can’t compare to Su Yuxi.”

Ji Xin smiled. “Don’t compare yourself to her. She’s had famous teachers and attended so many competitions—it’s normal she plays better. Don’t get discouraged. I was just afraid you’d choose piano; her performance is already set, she won’t even take part in the selection.”

Cheng Xiaoyu said calmly, “I’ll work hard to surpass her.”

Ji Xin saw the confidence and determination in Cheng Xiaoyu’s eyes and smiled with relief. “With your attitude, I’m at ease. Go practice now—I just heard some rumors today, so I wanted to check in with you.”

Cheng Xiaoyu was moved by the teacher’s sincerity. For the first time, he answered earnestly, “Don’t worry, Teacher Ji. I won’t let you down.” He bowed and left.

All along, Cheng Xiaoyu felt that bearing hope was a particularly heavy burden. Even a faint glimmer of hope could mean immense pressure. But “hope”—what a wonderful word—was also the source of motivation, the dream within reach. This time, he wanted to fulfill someone else’s hope, and realize his own once-impossible dream.

Cheng Xiaoyu spent two hours practicing piano in the music room, then began pondering the piece he intended to perform. He was extremely familiar with this piece from his previous life, and there were many versions. Now, he needed to synthesize several versions to create an arrangement best suited to his current predicament. The main issue was the lack of instruments to coordinate with, making it impossible to form a grand musical backdrop and limiting expressiveness.

Fortunately, Xia Shamo’s vocal foundation gave him some confidence; otherwise, with his current circumstances, he wouldn’t even be able to attempt such a piece. Playing and writing music notation simultaneously, Cheng Xiaoyu entered a state of absolute focus.

Xia Shamo’s home wasn’t far from school—a bike ride took a little over twenty minutes. Upon arriving, she first washed and chopped the vegetables for dinner: tomato and eggs, cucumber slices for a garlic cold dish, a bit of minced meat for eggplant with pork, and rinsed rice with water in the rice cooker. Once preparations were done, she washed her hands and went to her bedroom; usually, she’d only start cooking when her mother was nearly home.

It was a small one-bedroom apartment, and in a city like Shanghai where every inch of space was precious, having a home of her own made her deeply content. She and her mother shared a bedroom, and according to her mother, her father had run off with another woman before she was born.

Xia Shamo sat at a desk etched with carvings—marks she’d made as a child, ignorant of their meaning. The desk had accompanied her for over a decade. She opened her backpack, pulled out the clean, neat sheet music, and studied it carefully. The ink still gleamed faintly on the paper; clearly, it was handwritten.

After skimming a few passages, the casual indifference vanished, and she straightened up, softly humming. A surge of heat rose from her heart, and she felt an irresistible urge to sing aloud—the feeling boiled her blood. Even though she hadn’t sung yet, the more she studied the score, the more her scalp tingled. The notes seemed like unsheathed swords, piercing through her heart. Unconsciously, Xia Shamo gripped the thin sheets tightly, afraid these cicada-wing papers would fly away from her small room.

On the ride home, Cheng Xiaoyu was troubled by the thought that what he needed most was a synthesizer. But in Shanghai, he had no idea where to find one. He wondered how far synthesizer technology had developed in this era; if it was as advanced as in his previous life, his work would be much easier. He checked his phone—there was no Taobao app—and immediately felt a wave of nostalgia for the days of “Daddy Ma Yun.”

The next morning before school, Cheng Xiaoyu mentioned his need for a synthesizer to Qiao Sansi, who didn’t really understand what a synthesizer was and asked for clarification. Cheng Xiaoyu gave the English name, explained it was similar to a keyboard and mainly used for arranging music, practically functioning as an entire band. Qiao Sansi laughed, “That’s easy. The company probably has one—I’ll help you get it later.”

Seeing how easily the issue might be resolved, Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t exactly overjoyed. After all, he hadn’t been a keyboard player in a band before, and his knowledge of synthesizers was limited. At the TV station, another colleague was always in charge of the synthesizer.

Now, with tasks piling up and feeling a bit overwhelmed, he still had to deal with Chen Haoran, the top student, hoping to recruit him as a drummer for his piece. Indeed, with a versatile synthesizer, he could handle most of the performance alone, but relying on a synthesizer for all accompaniment was a last resort. Bands used synthesizers mainly to supplement orchestral sounds—strings, woodwinds, piano, etc.—since it was impossible to carry a symphony orchestra everywhere. Having the synthesizer do the work of an entire band wasn’t impossible, but live expressiveness would suffer—a compromise made only when necessary.

Especially since rhythm is the soul of music. The drum set is both a rhythmic and expressive instrument; it’s the heart of modern bands. That’s why Cheng Xiaoyu could forego any instrument except the drums.

A band’s performance level is shown in the coordination among musicians and the drummer’s skill. The drum set supports the entire musical structure; without it, an electric band is like a person without a skeleton. The drums not only stabilize the music in collaboration with other instruments, but also shape, enrich, and highlight the musical character and color. In terms of rhythm, tempo, and dynamics, the drum set surpasses other instruments. In modern bands, the drummer has completely taken over the role of conductor in a symphony. This is obvious in every contemporary band: each instrument must follow the drum’s rhythm, just as every part of a symphony follows the conductor. Thus, the drum set holds an irreplaceable, vital place in a modern band. Moreover, the rhythm is crucial in the piece he’s composing; without the live presence of drums, the effect would be much diminished.

Cheng Xiaoyu could only silently pray that Chen Haoran, the academic ace, possessed superb drumming skills and was easy to work with. Well, perhaps he was hoping for too much.