Chapter 26: “Memory Medium – P” Part 2

As if guessing her thoughts, the woman reached out and gave her hand a light squeeze.

“Next time we meet, buy me a pack of smokes.” She said it in English, not holding back at all.

But that was no big deal. Nicole nodded. “Then next time, if you see I’m in a contest, remember to like my posts.”

She repeated it.

The woman nodded with a smile. “But not because of today.”

“What?” Nicole didn’t catch on.

“Next time we meet, you buy me smokes, and I’ll like your posts.” The woman clarified,

“But not because of today.”

Nicole still hadn’t quite processed it.

Then she saw the woman do exactly what Fu Tingli had just done to her—slowly reach out and pat the back of Fu Tingli’s head.

Amid Fu Tingli’s mildly displeased gaze at the fussing, she let out a soft chuckle.

The wind picked up, lifting the gauze knot on her hand so that it fluttered like a little white bird riding the breeze.

Fu Tingli turned her head and saw the woman’s long black hair drifting across her beautiful, deep eyes.

The woman said casually, “Because of this little bird. I’ve never come across one before.”

~~~

Not long after, Zhu Muzi and Amanda returned, roaring back amid the rumble of a motorcycle engine.

At the time, Fu Tingli was teaching Nicole how to tie a little bird knot.

The woman, meanwhile, was leaning back in the car with a baseball cap pulled over her head, gazing at the scattered lights in the town center off in the distance.

Zhu Muzi hopped nimbly off the motorcycle. She was still lugging that massive cello case on her back and carrying a big plastic bag in one hand.

The girl wasn’t tall, with slender limbs, but she’d just run like hell while hauling that huge case, towing two people along, and holding her own against a bunch of scrawny guys.

Fu Tingli suddenly recalled that old cliché: small body, great strength.

Zhu Muzi came over and dumped the contents of the plastic bag out with a clatter—some snacks and sandwiches, a few cans of beer in green packaging, and some other canned stuff she couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.

It was too dark; Fu Tingli couldn’t see clearly.

Amanda followed her over. The swelling on her face had gone down a lot, letting her sharp, pale features shine through.

“There aren’t any convenience stores nearby.” Zhu Muzi set the cello case down briskly. “We walked forever before we found one, and we brought our ride along while we were at it.”

“No problem.” Fu Tingli gestured to herself and the woman behind her. “We’ve already eaten.”

“Cool.” Zhu Muzi grabbed a sandwich that Amanda had unwrapped and wolfed down a big bite, mumbling around it, “Finally feel alive again.”

Then, ever the social butterfly, she leaned against the car with them. “Oh, right—we haven’t introduced ourselves yet.”

“I’m Zhu Muzi.” She pointed to herself, then to Amanda.

“This is Amanda, my love.”

She was so straightforward about it. Hearing the word “love,” Fu Tingli felt a bit of unfamiliarity, even idly wondering if she’d ever be someone’s love like that.

For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to glance back, but she held herself in check. Her fingers, braced against the car door, curled slightly.

At that moment, Amanda swiftly grabbed a sandwich, cracked open a beer can, took a swig, nodded at Fu Tingli, and flashed a sweet smile.

“Chinese girl—I like.”

So the cool chick had dimples. Fu Tingli was a little surprised, just in time to see Zhu Muzi sling an arm around Amanda’s shoulders and warn her in a fierce-yet-soft tone,

“You can only like one Chinese girl—me!”

Amanda coughed once and obediently raised her hands in surrender.

Fu Tingli burst out laughing. She hadn’t expected such a huge contrast in their personalities.

Amanda looked cool as hell in her leather jacket on the motorcycle, but her smile was pure sweetness.

Zhu Muzi seemed like a hoodie-and-jeans student type, but with her cello case, she was wilder than anyone.

“Nicole.” When Nicole introduced herself, she always offered a handshake.

Zhu Muzi grinned ear to ear and reached out, shaking Nicole’s hand properly.

Then her excited gaze swung to Fu Tingli and the woman behind her.

Fu Tingli paused.

The woman lounging in the car seemed to pick up on her hesitation and chuckled from behind her.

Then, in no hurry, she drawled, “My name’s with her.”

?

Fu Tingli turned back to look at the woman smiling at her, thinking it was a bit odd:

When did your name end up with me?

The woman seemed to catch her thought, tipping the brim of her cap without saying more.

“Fine.”

Fu Tingli turned back to Zhu Muzi and the others with a sigh, starting to improvise,

“She’s not really in a position to give her name, I—”

“Ah!” Zhu Muzi cut her off, chomping a huge bite of sandwich as her eyes darted around.

“I get it!”

She pointed at the two of them, buzzing with excitement like a lucky audience member picked for the stage, her words tumbling out in dramatic bursts.

“You two! You must be! Eloping, right?”

Fu Tingli couldn’t follow the twists in her logic. She started to protest, only to see Zhu Muzi pull Amanda close and declare brightly,

“Just like us.”

“You’re actually eloping?” Fu Tingli found it unbelievable.

She hadn’t expected her earlier guess to come true. In this day and age, were there still families forcing lovers to run away together?

Even more unbelievably, at the mention of it, she subconsciously straightened her back to keep from looking behind her.

The woman in the car seemed to notice the motion, slipping her fingers into Fu Tingli’s hair and stroking gently.

Who knew what she was thinking.

Amanda, as if understanding her reaction perfectly, just let out a big laugh.

Nicole was munching on a sandwich, apparently oblivious to what they were talking about.

“It’s not exactly eloping.”

Zhu Muzi tossed her hair and chugged some beer, her cheeks puffing out then deflating.

“Our parents just didn’t approve of us dating, so… I grab my cello, she rides the bike.

Her dream’s to tour the world, mine’s to perform everywhere…”

“So we just ran away from home. We make money on the road, two broke adventurers wandering the world together.”

“They didn’t come after you?”

Fu Tingli thought they had some real guts, but without knowing their backstory, she wasn’t about to judge hastily.

The only one present who understood their full Chinese conversation, the woman in the car, simply watched them calmly. She exchanged a glance with Amanda but offered no opinion.

At the mention of parents, Zhu Muzi scoffed and downed another gulp of beer.

“What kind of parents are they? A load of crap, more like.”

Fu Tingli got the hint that she didn’t want to dwell on it. Wisely, she changed the subject, pointing to the cello case on the ground with genuine curiosity.

“What’s that instrument? You’ve been hauling it the whole way.”

“A cello.” Zhu Muzi yanked the case over and unzipped it. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“You’re just backpacking a cello around the world like that?” Fu Tingli was stunned. “Isn’t it heavy?”

“Yeah, whether it’s heavy or not, I’ve gotten used to lugging it around after running so long.” Zhu Muzi carefully opened the cello case. “After all, we came all the way from Manhattan.”

This girl looked so wild and carefree, but her gaze on the cello was more focused than ever.

Everything from head to toe was a mess—her hoodie and jeans smudged with all sorts of odd dirt stains.

Only the cello inside the pristine white case gleamed smooth and bright, like an expensive artwork displayed in a museum.

“Really beautiful,” Fu Tingli said sincerely.

“How about…” Zhu Muzi looked up boldly. “I play a couple of pieces for you right now?”

Fu Tingli paused for a few seconds. But she didn’t hesitate or play coy, just curved her eyes into a smile.

“I was just about to ask, but I didn’t want to impose on a future musician. Since you offered, I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Of course!” Zhu Muzi pulled out the cello and carefully propped it on the ground.

She dashed back to the motorcycle, somehow pulling out a plastic folding chair and a black speaker from who-knows-where.

She plugged all the cables into the cello in one go, then remembered something and turned to call out to Nicole.

“Nicole! Don’t you have a harmonica? I saw it when I was dragging you along earlier! Come on, let’s do a duet!”

Fu Tingli had never heard a harmonica and cello duet before.

She squinted with a smile, egging Nicole on to join in boldly. Once Nicole had her harmonica in hand, Fu Tingli clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

Distant music drifted from the town center, and Zhu Muzi pointed toward the sky.

“How about this one?”

It was that song, “California Dream,” blasting everywhere on Town Celebration Day. The radio Fu Tingli listened to played it nonstop, but she thought to herself:

This had to be the world’s only cello-and-harmonica version.

Silence surrounded them; two or three streetlights were out, leaving the wide road nearly deserted except for their single vehicle.

A narrow bridge arched overhead, with the light rail whooshing by now and then, casting intermittent flashes of light.

Zhu Muzi and Nicole had claimed the brightest streetlight, standing bathed in its glow. The road transformed into a dazzling stage, so bright that the dirt smudges on their clothes vanished, leaving only two vibrant, youthful faces.

The cello’s soaring melody floated on the wind, neatly reined in by the harmonica’s playful lilt. Amanda leaned cheerfully against the motorcycle, recording the whole performance.

Meanwhile, Fu Tingli swayed gently to the rhythm, alongside the woman reclining against the vehicle seat, tapping lightly on the door to keep the beat.

~~~

They became the only two audience members for this show, from this vantage point.

Under the night breeze, Fu Tingli leaned against the vehicle, chatting with the woman as she tilted her head back slightly. Her golden hair whipped into a wild tangle by the wind.

“Why don’t you drive next?”

Before the woman could reply, Fu Tingli unceremoniously fished a can of beer from the ground nearby and cracked it open.

Bubbles fizzed and surged down her throat in a fizzy rush. She felt invigorated, alive in a way that hit deep.

“I haven’t even agreed yet?” the woman asked, amusement lacing her tone once more.

Fu Tingli had already downed a gulp. She raised the can high, cheering wildly for Zhu Muzi and the others as their fast-paced playing hit a crescendo.

Once the wave passed, she softened and turned to the woman. “Anyway, you’re injured. You can’t drink.”

The woman seemed to pick up on something off. She paused, then decisively slid off the seat to stand beside Fu Tingli, waving a hand in front of her face.