chapter 12

Chapter 12

The sky outside was already growing dark. He reached out and flagged down a taxi and got in.

“Sir, are there any fun places to visit in the suburbs of Beijing?”

“The suburbs of Beijing?”

The driver paused, then thought for a moment.

“Let me see… Longqing Gorge in Yanqing, Hongluo Temple in Huairou, Shilin Gorge in Pinggu, and Gubei Water Town in Miyun…”

“Let’s go to Gubei Water Town! Hurry up!”

Gubei Water Town was no stranger to him. Many music festivals had been held there-it was the best place to build connections.

The driver was stunned for a second, then burst out, “Isn’t it way too damn late for that?!”

The next morning at 8:00 AM, Wu Ai stood alone at the entrance to Gubei Water Town’s scenic area, so exhausted he felt like he was falling apart.

He had followed the driver’s advice and bought a ticket for the train to Gubeikou Station at 3:00 AM.

“It was a real ordeal coming to Gubei Water Town overnight,” Wu Ai muttered, rubbing his sore neck.

Messages from Lao Ba and Chang Qu kept coming in, all asking why he hadn’t gone to school.

“If you two hadn’t sold me out yesterday, would I be too scared to go to school?” he grumbled, replying offhandedly.

On the other end, Lao Ba and Chang Qu were briefly stunned.

“Lao Ba, should we let Brother Ai prepare himself mentally first?”

He really wanted to tell Wu Ai that the Homeroom Teacher was telling every parent about their child’s First Mock Exam results and checking on their studies.

With Wu Ai’s First Mock Exam score under 400, he’d probably end up being reduced to a childlike state in front of his parents.

At this, Lao Ba just shook his head. “He’s so impatient-he’d better watch out for bad luck.”

Meanwhile, Wu Ai was sitting comfortably by a small bridge, suddenly regretting not inviting Shi Xian along-at least then he’d have had some company.

A small boat drifted slowly across the river. He called out, “Sir, where do I get on the boat?”

“Go straight ahead!” the boatman replied.

Just like that, at the words ‘spring is not late,’ he found himself in true Jiangnan.

The boat rocked gently, the scenery on both banks unfolding before his eyes, as if he had really slipped into the water towns of Jiangnan.

At the sight of this Jiangnan-like scene in the northern landscape, he was reminded of a song.

“Sir, is there a guitar on the boat?” Wu Ai suddenly asked.

“Yes, it’s at the stern. Thirty yuan per rental!” The boatman grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth.

“You…”

Wu Ai was about to complain about his greed, when the boatman added, “But if you play well, it’s free!”

He immediately shut his mouth. With his guitar skills, he could easily get the rental for free.

He tuned the guitar with practiced ease, took out a Liqun ‘Night West Lake’ (a cigarette brand), lit it, took a deep drag, and set his fingers on the strings.

The strings thrummed, and Zhao Lei’s “Southern Girl” drifted over the river with the smoke.

“Southern girl, are you used to the northern autumn chill…”

When the song ended, Wu Ai took the spent cigarette from his lips and flicked it into the trash bin on the boat.

Scattered applause drifted in from both banks.

The boatman took off his bamboo hat and gave him a thumbs up. “Young man, you’re pretty cool-just as dashing as I was when I was young.”

Wu Ai’s mouth twitched. “Sir, you know music too?”

“I’ve been a guitarist and a music teacher-nothing special.”

“You’ve had quite a varied work experience.”

The old man paused. “Young man, you call that work?”

Meanwhile, in the corridor of the Renda High School teaching building, Shang Wanling stood at the door of Class 6, Grade 12 and scanned the classroom; Wu Ai’s seat was empty.
Lao Ba had just returned from the restroom when he saw her standing at the doorway, lost in thought. He walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “Looking for Wu Ai? He didn’t come today.”

Shang Wanling spun around abruptly. “Why didn’t he come? Is he avoiding me?”

Lao Ba was stumped by the question. He hesitated for a few seconds before replying, “He probably just doesn’t want to study anymore. After the Art College Entrance Exam, he lost interest in classes.”

Shang Wanling lowered her eyes and sighed softly.

“Why won’t he let me explain? I didn’t mean to reject him back then.”

“You were so firm about it at the time. Who wouldn’t be upset?”

Lao Ba rubbed his forehead with a wry smile and gently led her toward the edge of the corridor.

“By the way, why have you started looking for him again lately?”

A faint blush crept up Shang Wanling’s cheeks. “That’s because…”

Before she could finish, a sudden clatter of footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. Several people in white protective suits walked up, their faces stern.

Before the two could react, the group entered a classroom. A few minutes later, they came out with a boy who looked utterly miserable.

“What’s going on?” Shang Wanling whispered.

Lao Ba was also bewildered. At that moment, the Homeroom Teacher rushed over, clapping her hands as she ran.

“Everyone, get back to your classroom! Quickly! Go to your seats, don’t linger in the corridor!”

…

At four in the afternoon, Wu Ai returned to his reserved room at Nalan Inn.

He fell asleep instantly, and when he woke again, night had fallen.

He hadn’t forgotten his purpose for coming here. Genesis was a media company, and what media needed most was an artistic atmosphere.

And bars were the best places to witness the bizarre and dazzling facets of life; here, he was sure to meet plenty of literary youths.

Driven by ideals and freedom, he walked into an acoustic bar called Zhenbao Wine Alley, where the artistic vibe was palpable.

The walls were covered with murals, wooden tables and chairs, vintage chandeliers-everything seemed out of place in this era.

“Hello, would you like something to drink?” The owner, wiping down a table, looked up.

“Let me see the drink menu.”

“We don’t have a menu here.” The owner pointed behind him. “You choose your drink by picking a painting.”

Following the owner’s gesture, Wu Ai saw the wall plastered with artworks.

Some were vivid as burning flames, some elegant as dew-kissed bamboo.

But most were so abstract that he couldn’t make sense of them, unable to tell if they depicted clouds or mist.

The owner smiled and pointed to the seat opposite. “Sit down, I’ll explain.”

“Choosing a drink by painting means I mix your cocktail based on the artwork you select, turning the visual impression into a taste on your tongue.”

The owner picked up a pen and tapped a blue-gray painting.

“People always feel a special closeness to what catches their eye at first glance. It’s the same with drinks.”

The owner’s philosophy was intriguing. Wu Ai suddenly felt that this owner was less a bartender and more an artist studying psychology.

His gaze swept across the wall, finally settling on a misty landscape.

Wu Ai pointed at the painting. The owner looked at it, stroked his chin, and smiled. “Good choice, young man. Wait a moment.”

With that, the owner took a palm-sized block of ice from under the bar and, after carving it with a knife, turned it into a small diamond.

He then took a glass, placed the ice inside, and poured in several kinds of liquor, stirring slowly with a bar spoon.

As he stirred, the color in the glass gradually became hazy. Finally, he added a green olive, and the drink was complete.

“Dry Martini. Enjoy.”

The owner turned and took down the misty painting, handing it to Wu Ai.

“This painting is yours. Give it a name?”