Chapter 50

50

The next morning, as soon as Su Qingqiu and Rong Jin left the neighborhood and prepared to head to school, they spotted a Rolls-Royce parked at the entrance. It was unclear how long it had been waiting there.

Su Qingqiu was still wearing an old T-shirt and jeans from Rong Jin, topped with the fluffy black coat from yesterday.

Her red dress from the night before was far too delicate to survive the washing machine—it had turned into a crumpled rag after one cycle. Rong Jin had no idea laundry could involve so many rules, but Su Qingqiu didn’t care. She had simply tossed it into the downstairs trash bin.

When Su Qingqiu saw the Rolls-Royce, she stopped walking, as if locked in a silent standoff.

Rong Jin grabbed her wrist.

Silence hung between them for a moment.

After a while, Su Qingqiu pulled away from Rong Jin’s grasp and turned around. “You go to school. I’ll head home first.”

Rong Jin watched as she walked over. The car door opened soundlessly. Su Qingqiu got in, closed the door, and waved at her through the window.

In the days that followed, Su Qingqiu never appeared at school again.

Before they knew it, Friday night arrived.

Bar Street.

Posters had already been plastered outside the bar. They featured a gray-blue seascape, with Rong Jin’s back view—no face shown—as she walked toward the ocean. Her arm was raised high, reaching for the sky, the sole splash of color on the poster.

It was like the ocean’s final tenderness, yet utterly free and resolute.

By 6:30 p.m., the place had been cleared out. Tables and chairs were pushed aside, and people trickled in, gathering in small groups to chat.

The stage was set up, and bar owner Ye Zhou was tweaking the lighting effects. The lights shifted colors intermittently, creating a stunning display.

Rong Jin sneaked out from backstage and glanced at the crowd below.

Ye Zhou spotted her and laughed. “Shouldn’t you be rehearsing one last time? What are you doing out here?”

Rong Jin ignored him and kept scanning the audience.

Ye Zhou gossiped, “Looking for someone? Oh, right—you asked for two tickets last time to give away. To who? Did they come?”

Rong Jin hadn’t found her and felt a twinge of disappointment. “Not yet.”

Ye Zhou said, “It’s only 6:30. Give it time.”

At seven o’clock, when the show started, Rong Jin stood backstage with the band. Some tested their sound, others adjusted clothes or makeup, and a few bickered—chaos all around. Rong Jin was distracted. Drum Bro noticed and sidled over.

“What’s up? Not in a good mood?”

Rong Jin replied, “No.”

Drum Bro pressed, “That pretty girl you brought last time—haven’t seen her since. Is she coming today?”

Rong Jin thought for a moment. “She should be.”

Maybe Su Qingqiu had gotten held up. She might show up any minute.

At 7:05, the area below the stage was packed. Their band had a huge reputation on Bar Street, especially with Rong Jin as the lead singer—a girl not yet eighteen. Tickets had doubled in price from scalpers.

The crowd below shouted the band’s name, urging them on. The keyboardist nudged Rong Jin. “Lead singer, let’s go.”

Rong Jin flashed a brilliant smile and stepped into the blinding lights.

The Live House performance was phenomenal. Cheers in the bar nearly shook the roof. Rong Jin rode the wave of applause, but her mind stayed on the one person she wanted to see.

Song after song flowed: upbeat English tunes, wild rock anthems, and a few timeless classics. The crowd’s cheers never stopped.

Until nine o’clock.

For the finale, only a high stool stood on stage. The bar lights dimmed, leaving a single soft beam on Rong Jin.

She sat simply and sang the last song.

It was the one she’d played for Su Qingqiu that night, later revised with new lyrics. She’d always wanted Su Qingqiu to hear the final version.

Su Qingqiu had been the first to hear it, so she deserved to hear the finished product.

Unfortunately, from seven o’clock opening to nine o’clock close, even as Rong Jin scanned the crowd one last time after the song, Su Qingqiu was nowhere to be seen.

She knew Su Qingqiu was busy—something must have come up last minute.

It wasn’t outright disappointment, just a pang of regret.

…

In the days after, Su Qingqiu still didn’t come to school.

Time flew. Half a month later, the school organized an autumn outing.

Yucai High School held one every deep autumn. Classes arranged their own schedules, with voluntary sign-ups. The whole class would hike up for maple leaves and camp overnight on the mountaintop.

It was crisp autumn weather—on clear nights, stars blanketed the peak.

A couple of days earlier, the class monitor had sent sign-up sheets to everyone. It was tentatively set for that weekend: depart Saturday, camp on top, descend Sunday.

Rong Jin turned in her form.

After the Live House triumph, record labels and agencies had approached, eager to package her and the band as stars. She’d politely declined multiple times, saying she just loved making music, not chasing fame.

But the others didn’t agree.

Tensions grew.

A few days ago at the bar, only Drum Bro, the keyboardist, and an obscure bassist remained. The rest had succumbed to money’s allure and left.

Rebuilding meant time and chemistry—new members weren’t found yet. Rong Jin hadn’t frequented the bar lately and had returned to school life.

The class monitor collected the forms and left them on the desk. As Rong Jin passed by, she glanced and saw a name she never expected.

Su Qingqiu.

Su Qingqiu was joining the outing?

Rong Jin didn’t see her until the afternoon of the trip.

A Rolls-Royce pulled silently to the school gate. Su Qingqiu stepped out. Rong Jin’s sharp eyes caught a woman’s hand from the car fussing with her hair.

Su Qingqiu wore a white trench coat and a hat that hid her beautiful brown hair. Head down, she blended into the back of the group.

Rong Jin quietly slowed her pace too. As the main group moved ahead, she fell to the rear, right behind Su Qingqiu. She reached out, lightly touched, and secretly hooked Su Qingqiu’s pinky finger.

Su Qingqiu startled and turned. Her almond eyes widened. Seeing it was Rong Jin, she showed no further reaction, just lowered her head again—without pulling her hand away.

Rong Jin, knowing when to push her luck, walked shoulder-to-shoulder, still holding on.

Rong Jin asked, “How come you’re here today?”

Su Qingqiu glanced at her. “Wanted to come, so I did.” She paused. “The night of your special show, something came up at home. Couldn’t make it. Sorry.”

As expected—a last-minute issue.

Rong Jin smiled. “No worries. Next chance, I’ll sing it for you.”

Su Qingqiu nodded. “Okay.”

Over half a month ago, Su Qingqiu had stayed out all night. Even when she returned home, her face was calm, offering no explanation.

It hit Yang Wanwan like a thunderbolt.

Yang Wanwan flew into a frenzy at home, smashing everything breakable. Su Qingqiu just watched calmly, silent.

For that stretch, Yang Wanwan kept Su Qingqiu confined indoors, no outings allowed. Hysterically, she demanded to know what she’d done wrong—wasn’t it all for her good?

Su Qingqiu remained unmoved.

Yang Wanwan suddenly realized Su Qingqiu wasn’t the obedient girl anymore.

She might not be able to control her.

Yang Wanwan had risen as the mistress by playing meek. If Su Qingqiu resented her, better to retreat strategically for now.

Kids this age hit rebellion—unwilling to heed parents. In a few years, she’d see it was all for her own good.

So Yang Wanwan relented, letting Su Qingqiu go out—even personally driving her to this ridiculous, time-wasting outing in her eyes.

Most of the class joined the trip. The bus was packed with laughter and chatter.

Rong Jin and Su Qingqiu sat in the back row, sharing one earbud to listen to music.

Since that overnight stay, they hadn’t met. Yet Rong Jin could feel Su Qingqiu was much closer to her now.

The weather was perfect—rare sunshine in deep autumn. As the bus entered the mountains, Rong Jin gazed out at a vast sea of fiery red maple leaves.

About to turn and point it out to Su Qingqiu, her shoulder suddenly sank.

Su Qingqiu had pillowed her head there and fallen asleep.

Rong Jin turned to look. A ray of sunlight dappled her long, thick lashes, making her eyelids flutter—she didn’t seem to sleep soundly.

She looked exhausted lately.

Rong Jin smiled and drew the window curtain, blocking the crimson maple forest outside.

At the mountain base, as others disembarked, Su Qingqiu stirred awake.

She squinted against the light, disoriented. Turning to Rong Jin, she looked adorably dazed.

Cute.

Rong Jin rubbed her numb shoulder and grinned, taking her hand to get off. “Come on, we’re here.”

This mountain was a famous suburban tourist spot, well-developed. Three paths up, each scenic. Weekends drew crowds, with clear signage and safety all along.

The lead teacher explained the routes, handed out small red flags to each, then let them choose freely—regroup at the summit by six p.m.

Over half the class picked the easiest: straight uphill, shortest, steadiest—quick to the top.

Su Qingqiu, a first-timer, left the choice to Rong Jin without opinion.

She figured Rong Jin would go for the toughest: winding with many steps, but best views—deep mountain maples and fallen leaves like a red carpet.

But Rong Jin trailed the group at a leisurely pace.

Su Qingqiu: “…”

Fine, maybe Rong Jin was tired too.

Crowds meant noise, greetings to hikers. Speeds varied; half an hour in, most pulled ahead and vanished.

Rong Jin still dawdled at the end. Su Qingqiu wondered if they’d reach the summit by six at this rate.

About to urge her on, Rong Jin plopped onto a roadside bench for tourists.

“Tired. Rest break.”

Su Qingqiu: “…”

Tired? After barely any walking?

Su Qingqiu said nothing. Not in a rush, she sat beside her.

They rested until four p.m.

Rong Jin stood, stretched lazily.

“Alright, let’s switch paths.”

Su Qingqiu: “Switch paths?”

Now? Backtrack down and restart?

Rong Jin: “Yeah, a secret one only I know.”

Su Qingqiu: “…”

Rong Jin sounded so confident that Su Qingqiu trusted her easily.

They took a new path—no signs anymore. Ground alternated dirt, stepped stones, even axe-hewn trail.

After countless branches slapped her face, Su Qingqiu thought helplessly—why had she believed Rong Jin?

She was the least reliable of all!

After they walked another dozen minutes, even the maple forest vanished from sight. All around stretched a desolate landscape, with bare branches and scarcely any leaves remaining.

Su Qingqiu stopped in her tracks and asked, “Are you lost?”

Rong Jin glanced around. “I don’t think so. I came here three years ago, and I remember this is the right path.”

Su Qingqiu: “…”

Three years ago…

Three years had passed. In this remote wilderness, even if there had been a path before, it was surely gone now.

This person was just too unreliable!

Rong Jin remained utterly confident. “Trust me, this is the way. Definitely.”

Su Qingqiu had no choice. The path back down the mountain was too winding, and she didn’t remember how to go. Aside from trusting Rong Jin, she had no other option.

The mountain path was rugged, so Rong Jin slowed her pace, holding Su Qingqiu’s wrist and leading her slowly upward.

The sun set in the west.

The dim yellow sunset slanted through the gaps in the trees, spilling onto the soil. Their footsteps stirred up fine dust in the glow.

The sunset’s afterglow grew ever more brilliant. Su Qingqiu even found the sun a bit blinding. After rounding a cluster of bare shrubs, the view suddenly opened up before them. In the distance rose jagged mountain peaks, stretching into a majestic panorama.

They could even see a lake far off, nestled among the peaks, its waters shimmering red under the dying sun. A single setting sun hung between the mountains, framed by a gray-blue horizon where faint stars began to emerge, close enough to touch.

Su Qingqiu’s eyes widened in awe. “What a beautiful place.”

She asked again, “Is this the mountaintop?”

Rong Jin found a slightly cleaner spot and pulled Su Qingqiu down to sit beside her.

“This isn’t the top—it’s the other side of the mountain, halfway up. The view here is much better than from the summit, and there’s hardly anyone around.”

Rong Jin reached out, making a grabbing motion at the sky, and smiled. “You came here to see the stars, right? Wait until it gets dark. Watching them from here is spectacular—absolutely stunning. We can stargaze all night.”