Chapter Twenty-Five: What I Must Do

After I finished ordering, I looked at Shi Yu, who had been silently watching me with a smile in her eyes, and felt a wave of awkwardness.

“Shi Yu, is something wrong… are you feeling unwell?” I teased her on purpose, trying to ease my own discomfort.

An Ye, sitting beside us, interjected with a laugh, “Shi Yu is just happy for you—looks like luck in love is coming your way!”

Luck in love?

“It hardly seems that way!” I replied instinctively.

Shi Yu smiled and motioned for An Ye to hold her tongue, stopping her from saying more, then finally asked me, “How are things over there?”

It was a simple and casual question, yet I fell silent. I didn't choose to give a perfunctory answer; in front of her, I couldn’t pretend. Life had forced me to constantly put on a mask, hiding and pretending—it was exhausting. I had to act as if I had money even when I didn’t, convince myself I could do things I had no ability for. In this chaotic and deceitful reality, only in her presence could I safely take off the false mask that had nearly seeped into my bones.

“Honestly, the work is straightforward but a bit tiring. The pay is acceptable. I know it’s not a long-term job, but for now, I can’t find anything more stable or reliable,” I answered truthfully.

Upon hearing this, An Ye got up and came back with a bag of beer.

“It’ll get better,” Shi Yu said softly, taking a bottle from An Ye.

I nodded, bit open a bottle, and took a long drink.

“Bro, you might as well come back to the bar and sing—we could hang out and have fun together again, with Shi Yu there too. What could be better?” An Ye said loudly after taking a swig of beer.

I wasn’t sure whether he meant the life itself was wonderful or if Shi Yu was beautiful, but as we drank, I could sense the carefree spirit he expressed. It was casual and unrestrained… except for the fact that neither body nor will was truly free—it seemed to be everything I was chasing.

Shi Yu, too, seemed to enjoy the life An Ye described, sipping her beer quietly with a faint smile.

“I won’t go back to the bar,” I shook my head. “I have my own boundaries. It’s not that I care about the blurred lines between right and wrong, or indulgent pleasure. What I really want is a kind of freedom—felt in the heart, acted out with the body. My current job is still restrictive, but I can endure it, because it’s a necessary experience. But working at the bar, singing, and shouting, those things originally mean freedom, and yet all of it is just for making money. In the end, it’s just pandering to the crowd and exiling myself. The longer you do it, the more you lose yourself—at least, that’s how it is for me.”

Looking at An Ye, who seemed a little disappointed, I suddenly found myself envious of him. He wasn’t burdened with so much idealism; he simply did whatever came to mind. Though he still had his troubles and sorrows, he’d never known betrayal—in love or in his convictions.

“Yezi, when are you going to find yourself a girlfriend?” I asked.

“Not in this state. What girl would want me now? But one day, when I become a true rock singer, those who never gave me the time of day before will be lining up for me to choose from!” An Ye tossed his long hair with a grin.

An Ye had always been driven and bold in pursuit of his dreams, and he was fair-skinned and handsome. Back in college, if he hadn’t always been carrying a guitar and dragging his band to small gigs, just his looks would have been enough to brand him a pretty boy.

Shi Yu looked at An Ye and laughed, “Didn’t a girl ask you out after drinking at the bar just a few days ago?”

Flustered by her teasing, An Ye scratched his head, “That’s different. The girl I want should at least be into music—ideally, she’d be in a band herself. If you’re not the same kind of person, you don’t belong together, right?”

Shi Yu shook her head and took another sip of beer.

Listening to An Ye, I suddenly remembered a girl—the guitar player I’d met on Xiqiao Bridge a few days ago, Youqin.

“Yezi, just the other day I met an amazing singer and guitarist on Xiqiao Bridge,” I said. Deep inside, I hoped I’d get to see her again, to hear her sing one more song, tell another story.

“How does she compare to you?” An Ye didn’t seem convinced that a girl he’d never heard of could be that impressive.

“That day it was all spontaneous—pick a song, sing it right away. Even so, she was at least a level above me. Her voice was unique—ethereal and powerful, and combined with her presence and skill, she was practically a professional.” I tried to describe the feeling I’d had to An Ye.

“You’re making me want to meet her right now!” An Ye was getting restless.

“We’ll leave it to fate…” I smiled bitterly and shook my head. “It was her first time in this city. Who knows when she’ll leave.”

“I really want to meet her…” An Ye took a long drink, his expression a bit forlorn.

Shi Yu gently patted his shoulder, comforting him, “Don’t worry. Like Chenzi said, if it’s meant to be, you’ll meet her. After hearing you two talk, even I want to hear her sing.”

“If she were here, what would you want to hear her sing?” I asked, curious.

“‘I Am My Own Lover’ by A Qiao,” Shi Yu replied, turning away so she wouldn’t have to look at me.

I nodded, unsure what else to say. At that moment, our skewers and barbecued food were brought out from the kitchen.

Wrapped in the warmth of the night, each lost in our own thoughts, the three of us ate and drank, reminiscing about the good times we’d shared. I’d gone out for barbecue and beer with Shi Yu and An Ye many times before, but tonight, the meal felt especially heavy and subdued. Everyone seemed to be grasping for topics, making this gathering more somber than those in the past.

Shi Yu daintily picked at the beef on her skewer, wiped her lips with a napkin, and then said to me, “Chenzi, to be honest, the only reason I asked you out tonight was because I simply wanted to see you.”

I stared at her in surprise, unsure of her meaning.

“The moment I saw you arrive tonight, I realized that the boy who’d just left campus—bad-tempered, always complaining, always late—was gone. Now you’re this young man who knows how to fight for himself, who knows how to exercise self-restraint.” Shi Yu finished with a sweet smile.

“Shi Yu… thank you…” I lowered my head, unable to meet her beautiful gaze. Leaving the bar, she was the hardest person for me to let go of. Shi Yu gave me a strange kind of warmth; she’d helped me find direction in the darkness. Toward her, I felt not only gratitude and guilt, but an even deeper sense of longing.

Her words filled me with a heavy gloom, and then a wave of panic. I felt as if Shi Yu was drifting farther and farther away from me. In her eyes, along with the comfort, was a trace of unfamiliarity.

“Don’t say that, Chenzi. I’m really happy to see you grow like this. Maybe you were ready to fly on your own long ago, and I just never noticed because I was too close. Remember, not every effort must be repaid. The world can be cold, but there will always be someone quietly warming your heart. All you need to do is carry that warm heart with you, and keep running forward. That’s all.”