Chapter 64: Mu Song: “QAQ”
The sky was clear and the sun warm, hanging high overhead. As noon approached, a faint heat lingered in the air.
The cold season in City A had finally passed.
In a high-rise apartment that wasn't particularly large but had an especially open layout, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room. Looking out from there, the distant mountains that had endured City A's harsh winter were now covered in lush greenery.
A light breeze drifted in through the open window, stirring the gauzy curtains. The tassels at the bottom fluttered gently, and when they fell, they brushed against an open suitcase spread out on the floor, producing a barely audible rustle.
Inside the Mu family's softly colored living room, a stream of nagging chatter flowed out from one of the bedrooms.
The room was a mess. Suitcases lay open on the floor. Stacks of boxed nutritional supplements were piled nearby. Plastic bags tied shut sat in clusters. A half-folded pile of T-shirts and trousers occupied the sofa. After considerable effort, Mrs. Mu had managed to dig a few wearable pieces of clothing out of her son's wardrobe. As she shook them out and carried them over, she continued grumbling: "How come I can hardly find any decent clothes for you? Either the pant legs have huge holes in them, or the sleeves are ripped beyond repair... No, no, this won't do. When I have time in the next few days, I'm going to the mall and buying you some new clothes."
Barefoot, Mu Song trailed behind his mother, scratching at his messy gray hair. "That's really unnecessary. Besides recording competition performances in the studio, I'm either in the dorm or the classroom all day."
"But your classmates at the training camp will laugh at you!"
Mrs. Mu declared the matter settled without waiting for a response. Squatting beside the suitcase, she began stuffing the neatly folded clothes inside one by one. While cramming them in, she turned toward the kitchen and shouted: "Old Mu! Are you done over there yet?"
"Done, done, done." Mr. Mu answered, and soon emerged from the dining room carrying an enormous food container.
Father and son exchanged a brief glance before quickly looking away.
Mu Xiangxiang, who had also been helping pack in her brother's room, stepped out just in time to witness the scene. She immediately shoved the items in her hands into her brother's arms and hurried over to help her father, whose balance was being thrown off by the heavy container. "Dad, what's in there? Why is it so heavy?"
Mr. Mu merely snorted.
Mrs. Mu explained while stuffing boxes of supplements for focus and sleep into the suitcase. "Didn't your dad specifically go ask Zhou Huacai about it a few days ago? He found out that Daya's training program uses meals designed by nutritionists so they can help adjust the trainees' physiques. Good heavens, when I saw the menu, I couldn't believe it. Brown rice, shrimp, boiled vegetables... that's not food fit for humans! Your brother is already skinny enough. Once training starts, he'll be exercising so much. If he keeps eating like that, something's going to happen to him."
As she spoke, she untied the cloth wrapped around the food container and opened it to inspect the contents. "I wanted to bring him meals myself, but things have been too busy lately. Besides, trainees aren't allowed to leave during the program, so the only option was to have your dad prepare some food for your brother to take with him."
The moment the container was opened, a wave of delicious aromas filled the room. Mu Xiangxiang leaned over for a look. Inside were freshly made brown-sugar rice cakes still steaming hot, thick slices of braised beef shank, lard-glutinous-rice cakes, garlic-marinated chicken feet, and pickled radish strips soaked in chili peppers, all arranged neatly in separate compartments. She casually picked up a piece of brown-sugar rice cake and took a bite. The fragrance of glutinous rice mixed with the distinctive sweetness of brown sugar spread across her tongue, accompanied by a soft yet chewy texture.
The dough had been kneaded until completely smooth without a single grain remaining.
Preparing it must have taken at least several hours.Mr. Mu stood silently nearby. His gaze landed on what his son was holding, and his brows furrowed slightly. Pretending not to notice, he looked away. "Keep all this in the refrigerator, understand? Only take it out when you're ready to eat!"
Lowering his head, Mu Song unfolded the stack of posters his sister had just stuffed into his arms. Most of them were damaged. Torn sections and detached corners had been carefully repaired with tape. He stared for a moment at the cracks still visible beneath the tape, then shifted his gaze to the food containers spread across the coffee table. After a pause, he nodded gently. "Mm."
Mr. Mu bent down and picked up two paper bags overflowing with supplies. "All right then. Let's go."
Before leaving, Mu Song returned to his room to retrieve the guitar beside his bed.
The south-facing room was always bright. The curtains were neatly drawn open, and a gentle breeze flowed through. There was no sign whatsoever of the war that had erupted there not long ago.
The bedsheets and blankets that had once been yanked onto the floor during an argument had been replaced with brand-new ones. They were stretched smooth and crisp, carrying the warm, dry scent of cotton dried under the sun. The corkboard used for pinning sheet music, which had once been torn down and smashed, had been rehung in its original spot. Rows of colorful pushpins were neatly arranged in the upper-right corner.
Standing in the doorway, he quietly studied the room before him—the place he had returned to every night since moving out of his middle-school dormitory. Unexpectedly, a faint reluctance at the thought of being separated from it for three months welled up inside him.
For someone who had grown up rebellious and would once have preferred spending his free time idling in internet cafés, such feelings were utterly unfamiliar.
Because of that, it took him a very long time to finally look away. The moment he gently closed the door, the smile on his face carried both anticipation and melancholy.
*****
Because they had so much luggage, Mr. Mu deliberately hired a larger taxi.
The moment they got in, the driver recognized Mu Song's unforgettable handsome face. "Hey! Aren't you that contestant from Lingering Melodies the other day?"
Sitting in the front passenger seat with some smaller bags in his arms, Mr. Mu replied gruffly: "He only passed the preliminary round. He's just a contestant. How could he possibly be considered a star?"
"So it really is him!" The driver immediately caught the implication and slapped his thigh enthusiastically. "He's been on television! How is that not a star? My whole family loves his songs. We even went online and voted for his band. Sure, we didn't cast as many votes as those viewers who throw around tens of thousands or even millions, but someone this talented is definitely going to become famous someday!"
By the time they got out of the taxi, Mr. Mu's expression had visibly relaxed.
Normally short-tempered, Mu Song displayed rare patience and politeness when the driver stopped him for an autograph. As Mu Xiangxiang listened to the teenager's clear, cheerful "Thank you," she looked toward the familiar training dormitory building in the distance. Thinking back to the chaotic and miserable state in which she, her brother, and Qiao Nan had first arrived there, she couldn't help feeling emotional.
After the preliminary round of Lingering Melodies, Mu Song had successfully advanced. His parents' previously unwavering opposition had softened considerably. After several in-depth meetings with Zhou Huacai, they had finally signed the consent form allowing him to take a three-month leave of absence from middle school to attend the training camp.
This time, what awaited him would be three months of brutal training with no freedom to leave whenever he wanted.
After politely signing autographs for his fans and saying goodbye, Mu Song turned around and noticed many other trainees scattered around the dormitory entrance, accompanied by family members who had come to see them off. Just like last time, those parents and relatives were carrying huge bags and offering endless advice to their children. The familiar scene left him momentarily dazed. Then he heard someone calling his name.
"Mu Song!"
He turned and met his mother's puzzled gaze and his father's stern eyes. "Huh?"
"What do you mean, 'huh'? Why are you spacing out when we're talking to you properly?" His mother walked over and lightly smacked him. "This opportunity is hard to come by, so cherish it. Get along well with people once you're inside. Don't start unnecessary conflicts. Listen to your teachers. Practice your music and dancing. Call home often. Most importantly, take good care of your health. Do you hear me?"
At that moment, her nagging made them look no different from any of the other families around them.
Mu Song listened quietly with his lips pressed together. Then suddenly he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his mother. "Don't worry. I'll remember."
It had been years since her son had voluntarily shown such affection. Mrs. Mu froze for a moment before finally hugging him back and gently patting the back of the child who had already grown taller than her.
After letting go, Mu Song looked toward his father standing beside her. Two seconds later, Mr. Mu, whose expression remained rather grim, silently set down the bags in his hands.
Father and son embraced with unspoken understanding. Feeling his son's strong arms around him, Mr. Mu kept his voice stern. "Since you've chosen this path yourself, then walk it properly. Understood?"
"I will." Mu Song nodded firmly. After a brief hesitation, he added in a quieter voice, "Thank you, Dad."
At last, Mr. Mu let out a resigned sigh. "Do your best."
Straightening up, Mu Song finally turned toward his sister, who had been smiling nearby.
Surrounded by the familiar scent unique to a teenage boy, Mu Xiangxiang rubbed the fluffy head buried against her shoulder. "Take good care of yourself."
Listening to her pleasant voice, Mu Song found his emotions difficult to put into words. A mature and professional music mentor. The support of his stubborn, unyielding parents. Just a few months ago, he wouldn't even have dared imagine a scene like this. And all of it—every single part of it—had begun with the guitar his sister had given him.
A thousand thoughts ultimately condensed into a single sentence. "Thank you, Sis."
“What's there to thank me for?” Mu Xiangxiang laughed and gave him a light smack. Then she suddenly remembered something, pushed him away, and began rummaging through her bag. “Oh, right. I still have something for you—”
Mu Song looked up as she searched through her belongings. The sunlight was blazing, carrying waves of heat. For perhaps the first time in his life, his mind felt extraordinarily clear. Clear enough to realize that he was about to embark on an entirely different journey.
A leave of absence from school! Singing! His dream! No more mind-numbing schoolwork! A world where he could finally spread his wings and do whatever he wanted!
He looked at the sister who had led him into this world and who, even now, still remembered to bring him things. His mother was buying him clothes. His father had prepared food for him. Every obstacle and objection had disappeared. The road ahead, once full of hardships, had suddenly become smooth and open. Could there possibly be a better moment than this? Gratitude surged through him like crashing waves. Hot blood rushed to his throat. He almost wanted to throw back his head and shout: “My sister is the best sister in the entire world!”
The next second, his best sister raised an arm and, under his expectant gaze, finally pulled something out of her small bag… A book.
And handed it to him.
“Take it.”
Mu Song, whose blood was still boiling with excitement: “...”
Mu Song, whose excitement cooled slightly: “...What's this?”
Mu Xiangxiang: “Your homework from now on.”
Mu Song glanced at the cover. His enthusiasm instantly cooled completely. After a long silence, he said: “...Sis, I've already taken a leave of absence.”
“It's only three months. After three months, you'll still have to go back to school.”
“What kind of joke is that?!” The moment he heard this, his head started hurting. “By then the talent show will be over. I might already be famous! Making enough money to support myself will be easy. Why would I still need school?”
The words had barely left his mouth when he saw his sister narrow her eyes.
The siblings stared at each other in silence. Mu Song looked entirely justified. After a while, Mu Xiangxiang spoke first. “Mu Song, I think you've misunderstood something.”
Fresh off a competition where he'd made quite a splash and convinced that fame was only a matter of time, Mu Song was overflowing with confidence. “What have I misunderstood? You're the one who's mistaken. Go look for yourself. Plenty of celebrities in the entertainment industry never even finished school.”
Ignoring him completely, Mu Xiangxiang pulled out her phone and began scrolling.
A moment later, she held the screen up in front of him. It appeared to be some online forum. Mu Song looked over casually— And froze.
[Serious discussion: Is that Liberty band that's been getting so much attention from the talent show actually full of illiterates? The English lyrics in the chorus of "Killing Intent" are full of grammatical errors. Didn't they notice when they sang it themselves?]
[Is Liberty's lyricist an idiot? It's not just grammar mistakes. The whole chorus is at elementary-school level. If I were one of the band members and my composition got ruined like this, I'd crumple the lyrics up and stuff them into his mouth.]
Mu Song: “................”
Mu Xiangxiang stuffed the phone into his hands and pulled out another stack of papers from her bag. The moment he looked down, he recognized them. They were the lyric drafts pinned to the corkboard in his room.
Mu Song: “................”
“This one.” After flipping through them for a moment, the girl pulled out a sheet and pointed at a section with a slender finger, dragging it across a large chunk of text. “You used the wrong verb here. This word doesn't belong in this position. And I think this one is missing an -er. I'm not sure whether you forgot to write it or genuinely thought the word looked like that.”
“This one.” She switched to another page with a rustling sound and became even more merciless. “You've completely confused how prepositions are used. Also, your vocabulary is tiny. This adjective is way too basic. Putting it here is honestly really low-level.”
“And this one. Didn't you realize this entire sentence is completely unnecessary when you wrote it?”
Mu Song: “...”
Then came the third song. The fourth. The fifth. One by one, Mu Xiangxiang pointed out mistakes in every single draft. Finally, she raised her head calmly. “Mu Song, you really don't have to force yourself.”
Mu Song: “...”
“If you don't want to get mocked by everyone after becoming famous because you're uneducated, it's actually very simple.” Her tone remained perfectly calm. “Just never use English in any public setting again.”
Mu Song: “...”
“Oh, or maybe Chinese above a high-school level isn't difficult for you either?” She tilted her head. “How do you write the phrase zhān xīng kuí dì again?”
“I'll be giving you vocabulary dictation homework.”
Mu Song: “...”
Mu Xiangxiang: “So, starting today, every night, at ten o'clock, after your body-conditioning class ends, go back to your dorm and start a video call.”
Mu Song: “...”
Mu Xiangxiang: “Can you do that?”
Mu Song: “...Mm.”
Mu Song: “QAQ”
------------------
Author's Note:
Mu Song, biting his delicate fingers in grievance: “From this moment on, my sister is no longer the best sister in the world.”
Mu Xiangxiang, arms crossed: “Hmph. Illiterate.”
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