Chapter 133: Good Music

A month later, Ming Han would be reporting to his new school. For now, aside from waiting at home for his admission notice, he had no idea what else to do.

Qian Yang was busy arranging the transfer paperwork for the Morning Star group. Their goal was to spend the next three years of high school training the boys into an idol group along the lines of the kind that performed songs with catchy choreography and synchronized hand movements.

So, during this period, there were no activities to attend.

Every day, Ming Han practiced alone on the basketball court in their residential compound. His only companion was Luo Datai, who was now in a miserable state, leaning on a crutch. The doctor had said that he would need at least six months to recover.

“Luo, will you still play basketball in high school?”

For any student who loved basketball, that was a painfully cruel question. Once you began playing and gradually fell in love with the sport, you naturally wanted to keep playing forever. Even without earning a single cent, you would never willingly give it up.

Luo Datai shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He had once trained harder than anyone else because basketball brought him immense joy. But reality was merciless. A single injury had nearly destroyed his basketball dreams.

By the time he entered high school and then college, he might never be able to play in a competitive game again.

Fan Zenghui patted him on the shoulder and encouraged him. “Brother, we’ll win more championships.”

Their school had achieved three consecutive championships, and both of them had stayed on to attend high school in Longhua. Fan Zenghui firmly believed that they would continue fighting side by side.

Ming Han had originally wanted to give him a little inspirational speech, but after thinking for a moment, he decided instead to tell Luo Datai the story of the tank.

The world had already forgotten it.

“Luo, as long as you have an opportunity, don’t give up. There are many people who never even get the chance to begin before their stories are declared over.”

Luo Datai nodded. As he watched the basketball bounce off the court, a look of longing gradually appeared in his eyes.

…

The next day, Ming Han slept in.

A ringing phone woke him.

“Didn’t all those heartless people abandon me?” Ming Han wondered aloud, puzzled as to who could be calling him.

It was Su Lei.

Ming Han answered. “Senior, are you back from your graduation trip? Did you bring me a present?”

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end.

This junior was the first person she had ever met who asked for a gift the instant he answered the phone.

“Junior, come meet me. I’ll buy you some milk tea.”

Ming Han did not refuse. Getting free food and drink was a promising path in life.

After arranging a meeting place, Ming Han once again mounted his little Aima electric scooter and raced through the streets.

Half an hour later, he arrived at the agreed location. After two months apart, Su Lei’s style of dress had changed dramatically.

She was dressed far more fashionably than before. At that moment, she was wearing sunglasses and quietly enjoying her milk tea alone.

Several young men with extravagant hairstyles were casting admiring looks in her direction, only to be completely ignored by Su Lei.

Just as Ming Han was about to greet her, one of the young men finally lost control of his surging hormones. Holding a cup of watermelon juice with practiced charm, he walked toward Su Lei.

“Miss, may I sit with you?”

Su Lei looked at him and uttered two words.

“Why?”

“Miss, you may not know this, but you possess a certain aura. Like a firefly in the darkness of night—so vivid, so extraordinary…”

Ming Han was stunned.

Was this guy actually stealing a line from one of his favorite comedians to pick up women?

Su Lei calmly listened to his passionate confession before asking, “Are you a member of the Funeral of Love clan?”

“What?” The young man with the explosive hairstyle had never heard of such an organization.

Su Lei smiled, as enchanting as a blooming flower.

“Big brother, there’s no need to hide it. You may be very low-key, but your sexy beard, your distinctive hairstyle, and your fashionable clothes all radiate the unmistakable aura of a flamboyant street stylist.”

The young man finally understood. This girl was mocking him.

He was a gangster with dignity. She could insult his looks, but she must not insult his taste and sense of style.

“Little sister, that was a bit too much.”

Su Lei spread her hands. “Big brother, you’re simply not my type.”

One of his companions became annoyed. “Which one of us isn’t handsome and refined? Is there really not a single one you like?”

Su Lei glanced over them.

Handsome and refined? Elegant and debonair? Did these people come with built-in beauty filters and photo-editing software?

She pointed toward Ming Han, who was just about to enter the shop.

“I like that type.”

At once, everyone turned their eyes toward Ming Han.

He felt somewhat awkward. “Hello, everyone.”

The companion looked Ming Han up and down, then pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Girls these days must have something seriously wrong with their taste. How could she like this pale, delicate pretty boy?”

Having failed to strike up a conversation with Su Lei, the group could only console one another.

“There are plenty of flowers left along the road of life…”

Ming Han rolled his eyes at Su Lei. “Senior, using me as a shield without my permission isn’t very nice.”

“I’m sorry, then. I’ll buy you milk tea as an apology.”

Ming Han clutched his chest in pain. “After graduating, you’ve become so slick and shameless, Senior. The goddess-like aura you used to have has completely vanished…”

Su Lei smiled brightly. She remembered the time she had performed “Yesterday Once More” with Ming Han, and beautiful memories of that moment rose unbidden in her mind.

“Junior, I wonder whether I’ll ever meet another partner as perfectly in sync with me as you.”

“Whether or not you ever meet that person, whenever you need me in the future, I’ll gladly accompany you on vocals.”

Su Lei was very pleased with his answer, and the two of them began discussing the music they each liked.

“What song do you like best, Junior?”

“Bob Dylan’s ‘Blowin’ in the Wind.’”

Su Lei looked surprised. “I always thought young people would have trouble adapting to his songwriting style.”

“I mainly like him because of his lyrics. Some people say he was a third-rate guitarist, a second-rate composer, and a first-rate poet.”

For a musical master who had written thousands of songs over the course of his life, whose creative career had spanned half a century, and who had led three separate musical movements, such a judgment was hardly fair.

“Junior, I wonder whether you’ve heard this saying. Every young person in the world idolizes Steve Jobs, but Steve Jobs himself was a devoted little fan of Bob Dylan.”

Su Lei often enjoyed sharing interesting anecdotes.

Ming Han naturally knew that.

Bob Dylan did not possess the ability to make a crowd of tens of thousands erupt in ecstatic celebration the way Michael Jackson did. But his music carried a quieter power, a private celebration belonging to each listener alone.

They talked about music for a long time, moving from Bob Dylan to Leonard Cohen, then from Cohen to the Chinese musicians influenced by him, including Zheng Jun, Wang Feng, Li Jian, and many others.

Before they knew it, their milk tea was gone.

Ming Han rubbed his stomach. “Senior, you didn’t ask me here merely so we could exchange souls and commune with one another’s spirits, did you?”

Su Lei burst out laughing.

“Ming Han, would you come with me to teach in a rural school?”

“Teach in a rural school?”

“It’s an activity organized by my father’s school. I managed to secure two places, and I’d like you to go with me. I want to play the piano and sing for the children there.”

“Senior, you’re such a kindhearted person. I’ll go!” Ming Han agreed without the slightest hesitation.

Su Lei said, “Ming Han, you need to think this through carefully. The conditions there are extremely poor. It’s a remote, impoverished place with no entertainment at all.”

“If it’s that bad, why do you want to go?”

Exactly. After finally finishing the college entrance examination and escaping from all that pressure, she could spend every day traveling, surfing the internet, or sleeping late. Why choose to suffer in a place like that?

The world did not require everyone to be a good person. As long as you were not a bad one, that was enough.

Su Lei answered seriously, “I believe music is the most beautiful thing in the world, and everyone has the right to enjoy it. I hope that one day I can bring the sound I envision in my heart to every remote corner of the world.”

Many people would have heard those words and thought that she had studied herself silly. What did life amount to if not fame and fortune? Talking about morality and ideals—did she think this was a television drama?

Ming Han listened quietly. Then he smiled at Su Lei.

“My reason is the same as yours, Senior. Besides, I want to teach them how to play basketball.”

Su Lei nodded excitedly.

“If you believe music is the most beautiful thing in the world, then basketball will have to settle for second place in my heart. The children in those mountain villages should learn about it too.”

And so, Ming Han settled on his plan for the summer: rural teaching.

After this incident, Ming Han admired his senior even more. Everyone in Jinhua thought Su Lei was a music fanatic who cared about nothing but practicing the piano.

But Ming Han gradually discovered that her thoughts about the future were far more mature—and selfless—than anyone realized.

Could studying music make you rich?

Yes, it could.

But studying music could also allow more people to hear better music. And because good music existed, the world became a more interesting place.