Chapter Fifty-Nine: Perseverance

Each day passed in a busy solitude, entertaining myself through my own efforts. Such days taught me more about living frugally. Though I couldn't claim to be out from dawn till dusk, rising early to sing and play my guitar gave my life a sense of fulfillment and quiet joy.

Gradually, the places where I lingered expanded beyond the mall entrances—to the main street by the roadside, to the small stone bridge in the west of the city. I frequented all these spots, and after many days of perseverance, some friends even began to set aside time just to listen to me sing a few songs. These subtle changes delighted me. Though each was insignificant on its own, together they were quietly transforming my life and enriching my dreams.

I hadn’t reached out to my old friends in a long time, not even to Shi Yu, who had always cared for me so much. I felt that making such a choice, and then telling others about it, was a kind of weakness. What I needed at this moment was not help or sympathy, but a steadfast heart and unwavering faith.

Occasionally, I would receive a text from Luo Qing. Our exchanges were brief, like those between ordinary friends, without a trace of anything more. I felt myself moving forward, slowly letting go of my youthful illusions about love, and becoming more mature.

Sometimes, when Shi Yu called to ask about my life, I would respond with a smile and a few evasive words. I knew my choices would never be understood by others, and that, so long as I held firm, no one could change my mind.

I slowly became accustomed to earning a hundred or so yuan a day by singing on the streets. From my initial fear of ridicule, to numbness, to now simply brushing it off with a smile, my attitude shifted with my circumstances. Living in this era, facing these hardships, I knew I had to adapt, for no one could say if greater storms lay ahead.

Zhao Ke Wen was the only person who knew I was making a living singing on the streets. I had tried to keep it from her, but although she appeared carefree on the outside, she was in fact sensitive. When she discovered the truth, she tried more than once to persuade me to stop, and when persuasion failed, she offered me financial help. Of course, I refused. No one in this world would turn their back on money, unless they were a fool or mad. I, too, wanted a wealthy life, but I had my pride. I wanted to earn my own money, not to live on handouts.

Truthfully, I wasn’t lonely. Besides Ke Wen coming by daily to tease me, during the day I often received calls from Zhang Tong Tong, that mischievous girl, asking where I was, and then coming over to sing with me—claiming she was helping me increase my earnings. I knew she’d come to enjoy this carefree life, the feeling of singing freely in the open, but because of her background, she could only sneak out occasionally.

After spending so much time outdoors, I often ran into old classmates or familiar faces from town. Those were the hardest moments. No matter how much I tried to adjust my mindset, their lack of understanding and skepticism still hurt. Yet worse than the pain was seeing them force a smile.

In such times, I would ask myself whether all this really made sense, whether it was truly better than my former days working odd jobs. I had no answer.

My life as a street singer had transformed my social circle completely. In the past, I’d tried everything to meet bar owners and band leaders—hoping for a shortcut to change my fate. But now, the people I knew were ordinary folks with backgrounds much like mine: the woman selling lunchboxes, street cleaners up at dawn, old men fishing under the bridge.

Being around them made me realize there was nothing wrong with a simple life. A person ought to know what they want and what they can do well. Sometimes, while singing by the little stone bridge, I hoped to run into the kind old man who’d once saved Zhao Ke Wen and me, but fate is elusive. Despite searching many times, I never found him.

At first, I nursed hopes of gradually rising to fame by singing. Yet those dreams were worn away by long, uneventful days. Striving is everyone’s right, but success is not Heaven’s obligation to grant you.

Though these days were ordinary, they were hardly monotonous; each day brought something new. Just a few days ago, I received a call from An Ye, and what he said shocked me to the core.

“Chen, I think I might be in love with Youqin,” said An Ye on the other end of the line.

“Are you sure it’s love, and not just a crush?”

“I don’t know. I just keep seeing her face in my mind every day. I think I’m infatuated.”

I was silent for a long time after hearing this. I wasn’t sure whether to support him or try to dissuade him. Such one-sided infatuation was dangerous, easy to fall into and hard to escape—just as I had experienced before, waiting in vain for an inevitable heartbreak.

“Ye, you know she’s not an ordinary girl. She has a story, and perhaps love is no longer part of her life. Don’t be too persistent…”

“I know…but I still want to try. She’s the woman I’ve always been waiting for. I have no reason to let her slip away,” An Ye said, his voice anxious.

“We don’t really know her. You and I don’t even know her real name. Your persistence may only bring you pain…” I sighed, not wanting An Ye to end up battered and heartbroken.

“Chen, do you have her contact information?”

I understood what he wanted. After a moment's hesitation, I agreed, then hung up. I found Youqin’s number and hesitated for a long time before sending it to An Ye. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, but I had no better way to handle his unrealistic feelings.

An Ye had always been my closest brother. Sometimes timid, yes, but his sincerity in matters of the heart was something I deeply admired. I didn’t want him to be destroyed by love, but everyone has their own path, their own definition of love. At this moment, all I could do was silently wish him happiness.

If we could, everyone would choose ideal love. But fate always seems to give beautiful love to those who take it lightly, and impossible love to those who give everything.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath.

I didn’t know whether I was cursing love itself, so unpredictable, or the wretched souls who trampled on it. Both Zhao Ke Wen and I had been wounded by this self-important kind of love. Maybe ideal love really does exist somewhere in the world, but I have never seen it.

And so the days slipped by, life moving forward with my aimless singing. The weather was growing colder, as people exchanged their summer clothes for the more modest dress of autumn. The season had come.

I put on a thicker long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but spent most of my time as before, in shopping mall corridors and parks.

Sometimes I worried about the future. Autumn I could still manage, but would I be able to save enough to get through the winter? Sitting on the ground with my guitar, listlessly picking at a lunchbox, I couldn’t think of any good way to survive the harsher days ahead.

Perhaps the best plan for winter would be to find a long-term job. Yet, if I did that, what would be the point of everything I had worked so hard for until now?

I packed the empty lunchbox away with practiced hands and sighed. Maybe, when winter came, I really would have to return home and seek another path. This vast city might not be meant for someone like me.

Leaning against the wall, I looked at the guitar case on the ground. I wanted to encourage myself to persevere, but I found no reason to deceive my heart any longer, nor could I hide the fact that I was just scraping by.

Just as I was indulging in self-pity, a familiar figure approached—a woman in a black coat, shiny black heels, sunglasses that concealed half her face. Her look was almost a blur in my memory, but as she drew near, everything suddenly became real again—it was Luo Qing.

Seeing her dressed all in black brought back memories of the day she defended me against the obese woman. After that, I never saw her wear that outfit again, and all my memories of her became tinged with vivid red.

I watched in astonishment as she walked toward me, stopping only when a single guitar case separated us.

I wanted to speak, but realized I had nothing to say. Unknowingly, we had returned to our original relationship: familiar strangers, exchanging only the occasional awkward phone call or text, our lives no longer intertwined.