Chapter Seventeen

  Yan Lang gazed longingly at his crush, piously finishing the duck pear. Qin Mo lounged on the sofa, sipping wine. Zheng Mingming had already sung seven songs in a row, still full of energy, and every time he changed songs, he emphasized: "The next one is my specialty, don't try to steal it from me!" He repeatedly pushed away my hand holding the microphone.

  I think KTV is like a national pastime, it only makes sense when everyone participates, but the current mode really makes people feel uninvolved, just like a customer excitedly running to a brothel, only to be told by the madam that today the entire brothel is closed for business, and the girls inside can only be looked at but not touched...

  I quietly waited to see which song would be the one that Zheng Mingming was not good at, but after waiting for half a day, I found that there wasn't a single song that she wasn't good at. Even after singing the entire high-pitched part of "Qing Zang Gaoyuan", she didn't show any signs of exhaustion as I had hoped, and instead perked up her spirits and started singing Huang Lixing's "Finally Can Only Lie Down". This song really sang out my inner thoughts about her, and I think everyone else must have been thinking the same thing - hoping that she would sing until she was exhausted and fell over, thus giving up the microphone. One mountain can't hold two tigers, one KTV room can't hold two singing tyrants.

  Qin Mo sat down beside me and moved his lips. I leaned in to listen, and he said, "Why don't you look spirited?"

  I thought for a moment and honestly said, "Singing K songs is about interacting with each other, we all need to be active. Look at us, it's like we're attending a concert, too inactive."

  He nodded clearly and turned around to say something to the waitress who was in charge of taking orders.

  《Still Not Finished》hadn't been sung to the end, the sound system suddenly stopped, and a melodious music started. Zheng Mingming opened her eyes in surprise, obviously not expecting someone to cut off her song before she finished singing. I silently praised Qin Mo for his bold move, while trying to recall if I knew how to sing this new song that was being broadcast. But before I could even touch the microphone, my hand was forcefully pulled back, and my knee violently collided with the glass coffee table, causing me to tremble in pain and fall into Qin Mo's arms.

  He wrapped his two arms around me, lowered his head and frowned slightly under the dim light.

  I suddenly remembered the time I accompanied Zhou Yueyue to a photo studio for artistic photos, and the photographer said that in this world, everyone has their own most suitable light and shadow. As long as you find this light and shadow and use it reasonably, you will discover that even though the camera lens is facing you, the photographed picture cannot be recognized as being of you...

  This photographer is deeply infatuated with Sister Furong, and especially dislikes Guo Jingming. He thinks that among today's stars, from those who act in movies to those who write books, only Sister Furong doesn't understand photography techniques, which makes her seem unusually simple and lovely; while Guo Jingming is too skilled at PS and playing with light and shadow, which makes him seem pretentious and artificial. Although I think he has misunderstood Guo Jingming, perhaps the other person just wants to learn another skill to support himself.

  I and Zhou Yueyue never believed in this master from start to finish. But at this moment, looking at Qin Mo's face under the orange light, which is strange but handsome to the point of being stunning, I suddenly feel that maybe this is the most suitable lighting for Qin Mo.

  What a femme fatale!

  After a long numbness, my knee finally hurt from the bone and I had a tendency to slide down. He held me tighter, his voice low and resonating in my ear: "What's wrong?"

  The fabric of the knee and jeans rubbed against each other, making another "zip" sound. I opened my mouth to speak, feeling that my voice was shaking: "What's wrong with you, pulling me suddenly? My knee bumped into the tea table."

  Zheng Mingming suddenly came over: "Are you stupid? The song that was just played is a dance song, Qin Mo will definitely ask you to dance with him, what are you doing getting the microphone?"

  I was stunned and asked him: "What are you doing ordering a dance tune?"

  He was leaning forward to help me rub my knee, one hand firmly grasping my calf to hold it in place, the other hand skillfully controlling the rubbing force. The spot that had been bumped earlier felt a bit itchy and sore. He looked up at me and asked, "Does it still hurt?"

  I inexplicably felt a sense of unease, shaking my head as I continued to ask him, "What's the point of composing a waltz?"

  He stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in front of the screen: "Didn't you say there was a lack of interaction?"

  The dance is only half over, Zheng Mingming is holding the microphone on one side shouting "come again, come again", Yan Lang looks at Zheng Mingming and also shouts. The waitress is busy rushing to start again. I think, although Qin Mo's understanding of this interaction is vastly different from what I had imagined, but since he is so kind and considerate of me everywhere, even if his consideration is in the wrong direction, I shouldn't be picky or hurt his feelings. But I have never danced in public before, when the music starts, my hands don't know where to go. He pulls my hand around his waist, feeling the softness of his sweater underneath. I vaguely remember that one hand should hold each other's, and quietly remind him. He smiles and holds my left hand. The tune is very familiar, but I feel like I've heard it somewhere before, this lifetime I haven't been so close to a man for such a long time while sober, can't help but be nervous, and I think I must step on his foot, which makes me even more nervous, completely without any extra thoughts to consider the problem of the tune.

  There was a smell of wine on his body, and I kept my head down to closely watch the situation underfoot. He seemed not worried at all about being stepped on by me, and he trod with a steady and composed rhythm. He pinched my hand: "What are you looking at?"

  My heart skipped a beat and I hastily looked up: "I didn't see anything."

  "Don't be nervous, just follow me."

  I also sighed: "I can't keep up with you, I've never danced before."

  He patted my waist and smiled: "You can keep up."

  He was leaning against his shoulder, Zheng Mingming was drinking water with his arms crossed on the opposite side, Yan Lang looked at us thoughtfully, found me staring at him, and immediately shifted his gaze, pretending to admire a glass jar containing toothpicks on the coffee table.

  Qin Mo took me around in a circle: "Now it's much more natural."

  I chuckled and said, "Is it because of you?"

  He stared blankly, then suddenly leaned in close, his breath blowing against my ear, making it itch, I wanted to scratch, but my hand was held by him. He whispered in my ear, "Song Song, want to hear a story?"

  He leaned against me tightly, with an attitude that even if I didn't want to listen, he would force me to continue listening. It's really helpless. But in fact, there is no good choice for this matter. Even if he didn't force me, I would still be happy to listen, because I have a gossiping heart.

  Qin Mo said: "Song Song, do you still remember nine years ago?"

  I think this has nothing to do with me, but maybe it's just his habit, like in the Book of Songs, before getting to the point, people always say something irrelevant to shift everyone's attention, for example, before scolding a husband for being unfaithful, first praising the growth of mulberry trees and so on, which is called "starting with a flourish" in literature.

  I shook my head and said I didn't remember. He didn't mind, his voice sinking with a hint of nostalgia: "Nine years ago, my mom was ill, and I accompanied her back to the country for recuperation. I became neighbors with a girl. That year you... that year she was seventeen." He paused, as if thinking about how to continue: "On my twenty-third birthday, my mom liked lively gatherings, so she held a dance party at home, and she came too, along with her boyfriend. That night she sat in the corner, ignored by everyone, and the only four dances were with me, just this tune, always this tune."

  I finally figured out what he was getting at, and it turned out he wanted to talk about his love story.

  I nodded and said: "This song sounds great."

  Qin Mo looked into my eyes, not speaking for a long time, and the waltz was about to end. I felt goosebumps from his gaze. When the last note stopped, he finally spoke up: "I never told her that night, but actually, I was very happy."

  I was stunned for a while before I realized that he had been talking about an unrequited love that ended in nothing. Recalling my own ill-fated relationship with Lin Qiao when we were young, I couldn't help but feel a sense of "shared sorrow among fellow outcasts". Based on my own experience, I offered my opinion: "It's better not to tell that girl, what if she doesn't like you and is particularly soft-hearted, then all three people would suffer."

  Qin Mo didn't say a word, after a while, he gently patted my back: "You see, we've always been very compatible."

  Zheng Mingming sang two more songs.

  Yan Lang drank too much water and was noisy about going to the toilet, so Qin Mo took him out.

  Losing seventy percent of the audience, Zheng Mingming's enthusiasm for singing was unsustainable, and she immediately dropped the microphone to come talk to me. After talking to her, I also had to go to the bathroom.

  I splashed cold water on my face in the toilet, and the droplets slid down from my face into my neck, making me shiver with cold.

  Zheng Mingming hurriedly spoke a lot of nonsense, which was so nonsensical that it was impossible to grasp the main idea and central thought. Just as she was about to finish, I casually asked her something, and in response to my question, she said: "I especially dislike Su Qi, really, so whatever she opposes, I support, and whatever she criticizes, I endorse. You must be someone she wants to oppose and criticize, and just looking at you makes me feel particularly affectionate. Oh, you don't know Su Qi? No problem, you'll meet her someday. She's the daughter my stepmother brought over. Two years ago, when she went abroad, my dad asked Qin Mo to take care of her a bit, and she fell in love with Qin Mo. According to Vanshirly, she didn't study hard in New York either, and would often run to Qin Mo's law firm, even switching majors to study architecture. Oh, you don't know Vanshirly either? She's Qin Mo's secretary... anyway, since you're already like this with Qin Mo, you'll all meet eventually. Su Qi's mom said she had attempted suicide before because of her previous boyfriend, and now that she's finally optimistic about love again, we can't let her get stimulated again, or she might attempt suicide once more. We sympathize with her having attempted suicide, but it's not like we can say anything. But Qin Mo can't marry her just because she attempted suicide, right? So she went to find my aunt, who is Qin Mo's mom, trying to salvage the situation, but ended up infuriating Qin Mo instead. When she saw that Qin Mo was angry, she went and attempted suicide again... fortunately, she was saved. Why does she like to create love triangles so much? It's really making our family never have a peaceful day..."

  I deeply pondered whether the Su Qi in Zheng Mingming's words was the same as the one in my memory, and after comparing them, I felt that there was little hope. The fact that they both attempted to kill themselves for love seemed to be the only commonality between the two Su Qis besides their names, but this commonality was not typical enough to serve as a standard of judgment. With the increase in social material wealth, and with today's abundance of food and clothing, most girls who have the conditions to do so have either attempted to kill themselves for love or dreamt of doing so, making it a kind of... campus culture. And if heaven insisted on arranging things this way, letting the Su Qi who loved Qin Mo and the Su Qi who loved Lin Qiao become one person, then I could only borrow the famous phrase from Prime Minister Churchill: there are no eternal lovers in the world, nor are there eternal love enemies, only eternal... love killings.

  The author has something to say: The first thing I did when I came back was update, and I haven't had a chance to read your comments yet. Although my mood wasn't great when I went home before the new year, taking a break still worked :-)

  I won't go into details with everyone again, but the final result of negotiating with the publisher is that this article will not be included in V and will not stop updating, but it cannot be serialized as late as San Sheng. I hope you all understand.

  To say something cheesy, but also sincere, writing alone is too lonely, without the support of readers, I predict that I won't be able to finish writing, San Sheng was like this, Er Sheng Hua was also like this.

  So no matter what, Er Sheng Hua will resume updates from today, wishing everyone a happy new year:-)