Frivolous - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

After that day, Chen Ran returned to her previous life. Rehearsals, performances.

The industry evaluated Chen Ran as the most punctual and sincere person in the entire rock scene; her heavy dark circles became her unique signature look.

Ode Band also became the “model workers” of major performances. At their peak, they booked ten music festivals in a single month. Chen Ran used her voice like a disposable consumable.

Su Ping’an told her several times, “Why don’t we stop for a bit? It’s really exhausting.”

Chen Ran turned her face away and said, “After this run of shows.”

During the soundcheck for the Hanglin Music Festival, Chou Fang missed her cues twice. Chen Ran questioned her with a cold face: “Chou Fang, what madness is this? Is your head clear?”

Chou Fang almost threw her bass down. Repressing her anger, she snapped, “Chen Ran, what madness are you in? It’s your head that isn’t clear! You say rehearse, we rehearse; you say run shows, we run them—until our legs break and our throats are dry. I want to earn money, but we can’t keep working like we’re trying to die.”

Furious, Chou Fang stopped the soundcheck and ran off the stage.

Chen Ran stood in place, her expression unreadable.

Su Ping’an hurriedly went to pull Chou Fang back. “Fang, Xiao Fang, let’s just finish this show. I’ll talk to Chen Ran later.”

Chou Fang turned back, saw Chen Ran still standing on stage indifferently, and roared, “Chen Ran, will you only look at me when I die on this stage?”

Chen Ran snapped out of it and said, “I’m sorry.”

Only then did the performance proceed smoothly.

After that incident, Chou Fang thought Chen Ran would at least slow down or stop being so abrasive. She didn’t expect the old patterns to return a month later.

Shi Muyang missed the beat several times during a formal performance. During the review afterward, Chen Ran said, “Can you put some heart into it? Making simple mistakes over and over. If you can do the job, do it; if not, we dissolve the band.”

This was the first time Chen Ran had used the word “dissolve.”

Su Ping’an and Chou Fang both frowned at her.

“Fine, let’s dissolve!” Shi Muyang slammed his drumsticks down and stood up. “You’re so obsessed—is the stage your home? Why don’t you go die in your home then?”

Su Ping’an and Chou Fang both turned to glare at him. “What are you saying?”

Shi Muyang slammed the door and left.

The remaining three stood in the rehearsal room.

Chen Ran said, “Let’s dissolve. I’ll talk to Ge Chao.”

Chou Fang walked over to her and asked, “Chen Ran, what exactly is wrong with you? We signed a three-year contract. Are you going to pay the liquidated damages?”

Chen Ran didn’t answer. She nodded and said, “Let it be,” then walked out.

At night, Su Ping’an found Chen Ran hiding in the dark. She sat on the floor beside her, remained silent for a while, and then said, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re afraid that when your past comes out, it will drag us down. But why don’t you think about this: the most famous person in this band is you. Without the name Chen Ran, who would even recognize Ode?”

She comforted her patiently. “It’s better to find a new path early.”

“No, Chen Ran. Let’s walk together a bit longer, until the day we can’t walk anymore.”

“Aren’t you afraid of crashing with me? When they start firing, we’ll all be labeled as ‘birds of a feather’.”

“Chen Ran, it’s okay. I don’t care.” Su Ping’an’s voice turned soft, her eyes bright. “Or you could tell Chou Fang everything and see what choice she makes.”

A month later, Ode Band secretly dissolved, ending their contract early, though a few performances remained. Except for Shi Muyang, Su Ping’an and Chou Fang stayed. Shi Qi, whom they met on Live Rock Sound, heard they were missing a drummer and came to audition. Su Ping’an welcomed her warmly; since Shiguang Band had dissolved due to internal conflicts, Shi Qi hadn’t signed with anyone else. Her current status was just a temporary fill-in.

That day was Ode Band’s eighth song at a music festival. Chen Ran was singing a quiet song, waving to her fans in the front row.

Soon, she noticed fans in the front wearing orange support gear whispering to each other. Then, many in the first two rows began looking down at their phones.

Chen Ran’s voice stiffened. A thin vapor seemed to rise in her chest, threatening to drown her.

A few minutes later, a fan actually turned off the light on a support banner featuring Chen Ran, took it down, let it fall to the ground to be trampled, and squeezed out of the VIP area without looking back.

Once one person did it, many others followed.

A moment later, during the transition to Chen Ran’s final song, someone in the crowd shouted, “Killer, get off the stage!”

Following a group of people chanting rhythmically, the sound of “Killer, get off!” became clear enough to be impossible to ignore. Someone even threw a folding umbrella at Chen Ran. She didn’t dodge; the umbrella hit her right on the eyebrow.

Judging by the flags they held, they were fans of Lingfu Band.

Chen Ran shook her head. She had a premonition that this might be her last time on stage—her last song. She turned back and gave Su Ping’an and Chou Fang a deep look, then steadied herself.

As Su Ping’an played the first note of “Deep Sea,” Chen Ran sang along in a low voice. As she reached the final line, she opened her eyes to see a bright moon hanging high in the eastern sky. Tears flooded her eyes.

The breath stopped. The breath did not stop. The breath will not stop.

Chen Ran didn’t say another word. She bowed deeply to the audience for a long time. After Su Ping’an, Chou Fang, and the temporary fill-in Shi Qi bowed with her, the curtain rose.

Backstage, Ge Chao handed her phone to Chen Ran.

Chen Ran took it. The hashtags #Chen Ran In Prison# and #Chen Ran Hit and Run# had already exploded on the hot search. The accompanying image was a high-quality fan-taken photo from just moments ago. In the photo, Chen Ran’s tearful, desolate gaze while singing was strikingly beautiful.

After one look, Chen Ran returned the phone to Ge Chao and left in her own car.

Su Ping’an didn’t follow her. She knew Chen Ran wouldn’t do anything foolish; she still had a wish to fulfill.

Instantly, public opinion was in an uproar.

• I heard it was a hit-and-run that resulted in death. She served a year in prison.

• I have a relative who worked on this case. The person Chen killed was only 22. His parents had passed away long ago, and he had a minor sister.

• How does she have the face to stand before the public? Truly wicked.

• Didn’t Chen Ran say in an interview she likes racing and speed? My skin crawls seeing the news—she did it on purpose, didn’t she? So evil.

• I always said her songs felt gloomy and creepy. Now I know why.

• She dropped out in high school to hang out with thugs. No wonder she turned out like this.

The public and fans demanded a specific explanation from Fengjin. At 11:00 PM, Fengjin released a light statement: Fengjin Entertainment terminated its contract with Ms. Chen Ran in March 2024.

Fengjin did not intervene in Chen Ran’s situation.

Yu Tingzhou was sitting in her office processing documents when she received a call. She asked cheerfully, “Sister, was your trip pleasant?”

Yu Lanzhou asked directly, “What’s going on with Chen Ran?”

“Didn’t you know when you signed her? I thought you did. My people told you back then that someone in their band had been to prison, but you said to sign them regardless. I thought you knew.”

“When did your people…” Yu Lanzhou suddenly remembered. There was such a moment; she had interrupted Xu Wan’s report back then.

Yu Lanzhou was sitting on a bench in Richmond Park; a bold elk came over to lick her hand. She called over Xu Wan, who was holding her bags nearby, and asked, “You knew she went to prison?”

The weather in London in May was already fickle, but the atmosphere here dropped to freezing. Xu Wan knew Yu Lanzhou was asking about Chen Ran. She had seen the hot searches in China.

Flinching under the other woman’s gaze, she lowered her head. “I knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I thought you knew at the time…”

Always “I thought you knew.” Why on earth should I have known?

Just as Yu Lanzhou was about to snap at her, she suddenly realized. Yes. Why didn’t she know?

Xu Wan could see that she cared about Chen Ran—more than just a casual interest. For someone she cared about so much, why hadn’t she looked into her past?

At its core, it was Yu Lanzhou’s deliberate avoidance that had finally become unavoidable today. Because Chen Ran truly had a hard time during the days she hadn’t bothered to ask.

Yu Lanzhou’s anger subsided. She lowered her voice and said, “Go back to China first. Investigate this.”

“A non-contact hit-and-run. It happened three years ago, on the night of July 3rd.”

Xu Wan had indeed investigated before she allowed Chen Ran to appear near Yu Lanzhou.

Yu Lanzhou noticed the date was close to when Yu Zhou went abroad.

Then she heard Xu Wan say, “It was raining that night. Chen Ran was riding a motorcycle and encountered a man on a bicycle. The man rode out from an intersection. Just as they were about to collide, Chen Ran braked hard and fell; the man also fell. The vehicles were six or seven meters apart; they didn’t touch. The man stood up before Chen Ran did. Chen Ran thought he was fine, so she left. Later, the man was taken to the hospital and died of a myocardial infarction.”

Yu Lanzhou faintly felt something was wrong. Chen Ran’s personality didn’t seem like one that could be at peace after hurting someone.

Xu Wan looked at the pensive Yu Lanzhou, then glanced at Zhou Jingting, who was walking back from the lake, getting closer. She asked, “Do you need me to look into it further?”

July 4, 2021, Night

Chen Ran sat in an interrogation room.

She heard the person across from her ask: “What did you do between 5:30 PM and 7:00 PM on July 3rd?”

“I rode my motorcycle from the Fuyu Villa area back to my home along Shengshan Road.”

“Did any accidents occur during your ride?”

Chen Ran recalled the previous evening. Rain had just started to fall. She was wearing a helmet, and her heart was in turmoil because of what Yu Lanzhou had said. Her only thought was getting back to her rented room. When the light turned green, she rode into the intersection, and a cyclist suddenly rushed out from the left.

Her mind went blank. By instinct, she braked and fell to avoid hitting the person.

After Chen Ran told the truth, the interrogator slowly looked up and said, “That man died last night.”

Hearing this, Chen Ran’s tears suddenly fell. “Impossible. How could that be?” The man seemed fine when he picked up his bike. “He told me he was fine. I went over to check and saw he didn’t have any injuries, so I left.”

The officer stared at Chen Ran’s left leg in her shorts; it was a mass of purple and red, the wound seemingly untreated and seeping blood.

The officer frowned and said, “It was a myocardial infarction. You should be mentally prepared. Contact your family to prepare for compensation and settlement. Or, if it’s more serious, it might be…”

“Also, he had liver disease. His uncle said he was planning to give him a transplant; he could have survived.”

He is innocent, and you are innocent.

The officer sighed, looking at the girl across from him who seemed utterly helpless and grief-stricken. “Has your family hired a lawyer?”

Chen Ran shook her head, her voice dry. “No. I have no family.”

“Then… can you provide the compensation? Given the family’s attitude, this money… won’t be a small amount.”

Hopeless. That was the only word in the officer’s mind.

Eighteen-year-old Chen Ran looked up from her self-reproach and regret. She shook her head. “I can’t afford it.”

Suddenly she thought of something. Her eyes focused for a moment, then the light died out again. She murmured, “I can’t afford it.”

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