Frivolous - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

In the first round of the show, Ode Band received 256 votes including ten from Qu Bai placing them fourth overall.

 

The band members were beaming, especially Shi Muyang, who was so excited he almost threw his baseball cap into the audience. He was about to blow kisses and throw heart signs when Chou Fang stopped him: “Who would even want that?”

 

Ode Band took a deep bow of gratitude before walking off stage.

 

As they exited, Kong Hongfei, the lead singer of the legendary veteran band Zhishu, stood up proactively to shake Chen Ran’s hand.

 

Chen Ran bowed low. “Thank you. I’m a fan of yours.”

 

She wasn’t lying; she had once been criticized by Y for her musical style leaning too close to Zhishu’s.

 

“The waves behind are certainly formidable,” Kong Hongfei joked lightheartedly.

 

“The waves in front are forever young,” Chen Ran complimented him softly.

 

Other bands were sitting nearby, and Chen Ran bowed to them as she passed. However, the lead singer of Lingfu a young band that had risen to fame in recent years was busy rubbing his nose and talking to the person behind him, acting as if he didn’t see Ode Band at all.

 

Chen Ran had heard one of their songs before; after that single track, she stopped listening and blacklisted them.

 

The lead singer’s tone was mediocre, his vocals possessed a “greasy” quality masquerading as nonchalance, and the lyrics were filled with suggestive, vulgar double entendres. There was even a single-word profanity tucked into the bridge.

 

She didn’t understand the purpose of that swear word; perhaps it was meant to seem “cool.”

 

Noticing his intentional slight, Chen Ran withdrew her hand, stood up straight, let out a soft snort, and walked right past them.

 

The surface-level conflict was now officially set.

 

After sitting down and taking a sip of water, Chen Ran thought: The higher the position, the humbler they are.

 

Then she reconsidered. No, except for Yu Lanzhou.

 

The higher the position, the more noble.

 

And the more she loved her.

 

After the first episode aired, Ode Band’s Weibo following jumped by 200,000, many of whom were former fans of “23.”

 

Ode Band also hit number three on the evening entertainment trending charts.

 

Though she wasn’t sure if Fengjin had paid for the placement, the comments were buzzing:

 

• • 23 is finally working!

 

• • Wait, no one told me the lead singer of Ode Band looked like this. With looks like that, why is she singing? She should go straight into movies.

 

• • Nüwa must have spent a long time admiring her own craftsmanship with that face.

 

• • Why doesn’t Qu Bai’s company just sign her? She’s a guaranteed future Best Actress.

 

• • She’s doing great in her main career; the music is good. There’s no need to step into the dye vat of the film industry.

 

In a short time, Ode’s song “Aria of Mockery” surpassed ten million plays across various platforms.

 

The copyright holders of Live Rock Sound kept taking it down, but it was constantly re-uploaded. It was a true viral breakout.

 

Many fan-made “fan-edit” videos of Chen Ran appeared. Many focused on her face and “shipping” her with others; suddenly, “Qu-Chen” and “An-Ran” became popular CP (couple) pairings, dominating video platform trends.

 

Yu Tingzhou sent a screenshot to Yu Lanzhou. It was a comment about Chen Ran:

 

“Using a cold, aloof face to provoke my heart—like a pure wild horse, it’s impossible not to be charmed.”

 

Then came her teasing message:

 

Hello, Conductor Yu. The ‘pure wild horse’ you placed your bets on won a total victory in this round. This company will continue to monitor her subsequent matches and provide more support.

 

Yu Lanzhou typed with a blank expression: Then start preparing a few Livehouse shows for the follow-up. Let’s test the waters.

 

The recording cycle for Live Rock Sound was long; only the final rounds would be tight. In the early stages, the production team didn’t require the bands to stay at the recording site at all times, so there was time.

 

Yu Tingzhou replied quickly: I finally send you a message and I end up walking away with an order.

 

Yu Lanzhou: It’s good that you recognize it as an order.

 

On the other end of the phone, Yu Tingzhou could practically imagine her sister’s arrogant expression while typing those words.

 

By this time, Chen Ran had finished recording the first three episodes and returned to the Fengjin dormitory. Her roommate, Su Ping’an, had gone home.

 

At 8:00 PM, just as Chen Ran had finished showering and was sitting on her bed, she saw a call from an unknown number. The IP showed the United States.

 

She hadn’t planned on answering. Lately, because of her rising fame, her privacy had been leaked, and she occasionally received prank calls.

 

Two minutes later, Chen Ran received a text. Just three short words: Sister, it’s me.

 

Chen Ran knew it was Yu Zhou. She must have watched the show.

 

When Yu Zhou called again, Chen Ran pressed answer. Silence followed on both ends.

 

Finally, Chen Ran couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “How is your heart?”

 

Yu Zhou replied, “It’s okay. I’m doing well. And you?”

 

Yu Zhou was only fifteen, yet her voice carried a trace of weariness beyond her years.

 

“I’m doing well too.”

 

“I asked Sister Xu Wan… You didn’t go to university, did you? Why, Sister?”

 

Yu Lanzhou didn’t know, but Yu Zhou knew how good Chen Ran’s grades were—she was perennially ranked first in the school.

 

Back when the foster daughter was being chosen, both of them had lied to Yu Lanzhou.

 

Chen Ran remained silent for a long time.

 

“Is it because of what I said? Is that why you cut off contact with me and stopped contacting Yu Lanzhou?”

 

Chen Ran denied it quickly. “No.” After a few seconds of pause, she added, “It was my own mistake.”

 

Yu Zhou’s voice choked up. “Sister, I’m sorry. Wait for me to come back. I’ll make it up to you when I return.”

 

“There’s nothing to make up for. I’m doing quite well now, aren’t I?”

 

“No, not well at all.” She didn’t want to see Chen Ran enter that “dye vat.” Chen Ran belonged to scientific research; she should have been pursuing her old love for biomedicine.

 

“I’m really doing well. You know I love music, right? Now I can make money doing what I love, and people like my songs. I’m quite satisfied.”

 

“Really?” Yu Zhou did know that Chen Ran used to write songs. Unless it was out of genuine interest and passion, she wouldn’t do it.

 

Her guilt receded slightly.

 

“I’m not lying to you.”

 

“Then… will you still pick up my calls in the future?” Yu Zhou was still bothered by the fact that Chen Ran had canceled her old phone number, making her unreachable.

 

“I will. I will.” Chen Ran felt a trace of a smile, offering patient comfort just as she used to when soothing Yu Zhou.

 

“Okay, then I’ll call you again tomorrow. You just got back to Beijing, take a shower and rest early.” Yu Zhou’s voice was soft, as if whispering in Chen Ran’s ear. “One more thing, Sister… ‘Aria of Mockery’ is really beautiful. The whole album is.”

 

Chen Ran pursed her lips and smiled faintly. “I know.”

 

But at this moment, she wanted more than anything to ask a certain someone else how she felt after hearing the live version of “Aria of Mockery.”

 

Yu Lanzhou had already performed the first concert of her new series, but Chen Ran was with the production crew and couldn’t be there.

 

She hadn’t seen her in a long time.

 

She missed her dearly. But it was already late; Chen Ran didn’t know if she would even run into her.

 

Chen Ran picked out an outfit: a casual white shirt on top, paired with a high-waisted raw-hem A-line denim skirt that showed off her legs. White socks and sneakers on her feet.

 

She sprayed some newly bought perfume and checked herself repeatedly in the full-length mirror, making sure the rash on her arm wasn’t visible. She smoothed her hair over and over before turning off the lights and heading out.

 

Skipping and running toward the Yu Lan Art Hall, she could see from a distance that the light in Yu Lanzhou’s office was still on.

 

Chen Ran’s heart eased. She didn’t disturb her right away, simply waiting quietly on the first floor.

 

The audio playing in her headphones was a recording of a concert conducted by Yu Lanzhou.

 

She could imagine Yu Lanzhou’s expressions and movements at every rise and fall of the music.

 

Chen Ran gazed at the light shining through the half-closed curtains of the office it was as serene as moonlight spilled on the ground.

 

At the same time, Yu Lanzhou stood up with her glass, looking out at the bright, clear moonlight, when she suddenly spotted a familiar figure.

 

A moment later, their eyes met.

 

Chen Ran’s eyes, sparkling in the dark night, lit up with a brilliant smile. She took off her headphones and ran toward the office.

 

Seconds later, Yu Lanzhou heard a knock on the door.

 

Chen Ran poked her head in. “Teacher Yu.”

 

“Come in.” Her tone was unreadable.

 

Chen Ran pushed the door open, bringing the moonlight into the room with her.

 

She saw a person dressed in a high-collared white shirt and a charcoal gray suit—her temperament like an indifferent deity of the deep sea.

 

Yu Lanzhou, who had been standing with her arms crossed, sat back down in her chair. “What is it?”

 

“I just wanted to come and tell you… I’m back.” Such an obvious intent to report her itinerary.

 

“I see.” Yu Lanzhou didn’t ask why she felt the need to report, simply acknowledging it calmly.

 

The fact that Chen Ran came to find her as soon as she returned to Beijing felt obscure yet somehow appropriate to Yu Lanzhou.

 

“And, and—” Chen Ran, like a little fox, hopped over to Yu Lanzhou’s desk and leaned in. “How was our performance in the first episode?”

 

“What show?”

 

A look of “You didn’t know?” flashed across Chen Ran’s face, but in the next instant, her eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “We participated in a music variety show. We sang the lead track ‘Aria of Mockery’ in the first episode and took fourth place overall!”

 

The key information was clear: the lead track was the one Yu Lanzhou preferred, and they took fourth in the competition.

 

Yu Lanzhou noticed her tone was full of pride and the kind of self-assuredness one only shows to someone close.

 

There was a subtle displacement in their relationship…

 

As if she were her mother.

 

Seeing a look of slight bewilderment on Yu Lanzhou’s face, Chen Ran changed the subject: “Have you eaten yet?”

 

But the transition wasn’t great it was almost 9:00 PM; who wouldn’t have eaten by now?

 

In the next second, Yu Lanzhou shook her head slightly.

 

Chen Ran’s eyes lit up again, her heart fluttering. “Then… can I treat you to dinner? What would you like to eat?”

 

She switched between the formal “You” (Nin) and the informal “You” (Ni). The former was a polite disguise for their status gap; the latter was the psychological distance Chen Ran wanted to bridge.

 

Yu Lanzhou pursed her lips, her face devoid of a smile as she shook her head again. It was unclear which of Chen Ran’s questions she was answering.

 

Chen Ran assumed she didn’t know what to eat. “I know a Taizhou restaurant not far from here. It’s open until 11:00 PM.”

 

Chen Ran spoke so quickly, as if afraid that being a second late would result in a rejection.

 

“Let’s go.” Yu Lanzhou picked up her car keys.

 

Chen Ran’s heart skipped a beat.

 

Why was Yu Lanzhou so good to her? So good that her “indecent desires” were about to break the surface.

 

This time, Yu Lanzhou drove herself.

 

Chen Ran watched her every move without blinking: the way her long, curly hair fell forward as she buckled her seatbelt, obscuring her deep eyes; her slender, pale hand inserting the key and starting the car; her calm, steady movements as she turned the steering wheel to reverse.

 

The simplest, most ordinary actions were as full of charm as her conducting.

 

Alone in the car together, it felt like something could happen.

 

Something blurry, obscure, and ambiguous.

 

Yu Lanzhou casually tapped the music player. the melody of an old song flowed out:

 

The wind blows fiercely in the wild / Ignoring human pain / As if it wants to hollow everything out…

 

Chen Ran’s heart pounded. She had once shared this song on the “23” account status.

 

Glancing at Yu Lanzhou’s composed expression, Chen Ran looked out at the night scenery, her fingers tapping her thigh as she softly harmonized with the singer:

 

If the tide of passion surges / Who can remain calm? / Who can easily let go of the shadow of love?

 

When they got out of the car, Chen Ran carried a hint of the car’s fragrance, but the scent dissipated as soon as the wind blew.

 

The meal wasn’t cheap, but the taste was actually just average. Chen Ran had only been to this three-star restaurant once before when Su Ping’an treated her.

 

Familiarity meant fewer mistakes.

 

She didn’t want to make a mistake in front of Yu Lanzhou.

 

But after this experience, her credibility regarding food recommendations might drop in Yu Lanzhou’s eyes.

 

However, Chen Ran had something to say to Yu Lanzhou tonight, so she had no other choice.

 

In the car afterward, Chen Ran apologized cautiously: “I’m sorry. I didn’t pick a very good place. Next time… next time I’ll definitely find the best restaurant in all of Beijing.”

 

“It was fine.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Tonight’s food. It wasn’t bad.”

 

Chen Ran suddenly felt that Yu Lanzhou was so soft-hearted, so easy to be close to. Her own heart softened into a mess, and she couldn’t help but blurting out:

 

“Why are you so good to me?”