She Adopted Me After My Biological Mother Passed Away - Chapter 44.1

“Welcome to the Screaming Goldfish special show,” Yu Xiu’s voice echoed through the venue. “Thank you all for being with us on New Year’s Eve as we restart this stage.”

“First up tonight. Powder Snow Submerging the Swing!”

The lights spread out like a thin mist. The moment Yu Xiu finished speaking, a string of crisp guitar notes flowed out like clashing icicles.

Tiangua’s left hand laid down a wash of reverb-heavy synth pads like an infinite curtain of snow, while her right hand occasionally struck wind chime samples high in the register, sculpting a silent, snowing courtyard in the center of the stage.

By the third measure of the soundscape, Shi Shuxue’s bass slipped in quietly.

Extremely light, yet extremely deep.

Like the first heavy flake of snow falling into a drift.

Under the cold blue-white lights, the trailing red ribbons swayed with the unintentional rhythm of her body, brushing against the surface of her boots.

She stood to the back right, not occupying the visual center. Her finger movements on the strings were minimal, she carefully controlled the sustain and vibrato of every note.

Shi Shuxue didn’t dare look for Chi Yeyu. She could only nail her gaze to the strings, plucking along to the rhythm. The low frequency of the bass acted as a foundation, steadily supporting the song as it wove together with the guitar, keys, and drums.

As the first chorus hit, Yu Xiu’s vocals were explosive. The glow sticks below swayed left and right. In the shifting shadows, Shi Shuxue felt as if she could feel that familiar gaze landing on her back.

Perhaps it carried warmth, or that heavy weight of expectation she so feared.

She kept her gaze lowered, her thick lashes casting a small, quiet shadow on her cheek, pretending to be entirely immersed in a dialogue with her instrument.

The vast sea of stars and the crowd below seemed, for this moment, to be shut out.

Few people notice the bassist more than the lead singer.

But Chi Yeyu sat in the shadows of the front row, her eyes locked onto Shi Shuxue’s left hand.

She saw a tension in those long fingers as they moved across the frets, one that wasn’t there on normal days.

“Powder Snow Swing” was a high-difficulty track for a bassist. Shi Xianyu used to jokingly call it a “gentle cliff.”

Its melody seemed light, but the underlying chord progressions were exceptionally complex. It required delicate vibrato control, rapid but fluid scale runs, and syncopated rhythms that wove in and out of the drum beats.

These requirements persisted throughout the song, a dual test of the performer’s technique and state of mind.

When Shi Xianyu wrote this song years ago, Chi Yeyu was still the band’s backup drummer. The lead drummer, Ci Tang, was rock-solid and rarely gave her a chance to play.

Ironically, the bassist at the time, A-Yuan, was unreliable and frequently skipped rehearsals. With shows approaching, someone had to fill in.

Thus, the first instrument Chi Yeyu mastered for this song wasn’t the drums, but the bass.

She had held that bass in an empty practice room, chewing through the notes of Powder Snow Swing one by one until her fingertips ached, etching those delicate slides and bass lines into her muscle memory.

Because of this, she knew the song all too well.

Next came a phrase requiring a fluid slide from the 5th to the 7th fret. On stage, the bassist’s finger ghosted the 6th fret for a split second, causing an almost imperceptible hitch in the sound.

As Yu Xiu sang, Shi Shuxue’s bass continued to provide the bottom end, yet on a strong beat that needed to sync perfectly with the drums, her attack was a fraction late.

It wasn’t a drag; it was a confirmation born of being overly cautious.

Ci Cheng sensed the hesitation and glanced at her, lingering on the snare for a moment longer to compensate.

So far, the issues weren’t obvious. To the vast majority of the audience, it was still a perfect performance.

Chi Yeyu watched Shi Shuxue unblinkingly. From start to finish, Shi Shuxue hadn’t looked her way once.

The song entered the bridge before the second verse.

Perhaps wanting to use improvisation to distract herself, Shi Shuxue took a small step forward, her boot heel hitting the floor as she added a few delicate grace notes.

But her left pinky was a bit weak when pressing the string, causing the pitch to be slightly flat.

Chi Yeyu was very familiar with that pitch deviation, it was the mark of a beginner lacking control over fret positioning. But such a thing rarely happened to Shi Shuxue. Unlike Chi Yeyu unlike most people who relied on grueling practice, this kid was a natural-born bassist.

She had seen videos of Shi Shuxue’s performances, dazzling, natural. But now, seeing those fingers tremble out of fear, she felt a sense of uncharacteristic clumsiness.

As the song neared its end, the instruments faded out layer by layer.

Shi Shuxue finally looked up, as if finishing a grueling task. Her gaze didn’t search frantically, it just swept across the crowd in a rush. The moment it met Chi Yeyu’s gaze, it shivered like a startled bird’s wing, dropping for an instant before forcing itself back up to look Chi Yeyu in the eye.

I just messed up so many times, Chi Yeyu definitely heard it… What’s her expression? Does she look disappointed? Did she see how nervous I was?

The lights in the audience were too dim. Chi Yeyu’s face was swallowed by the shadows. Shi Shuxue couldn’t tell if her expression was one of indifference or disappointment.

Then, a thunderous wave of applause surrounded her. People below were cheering for them, calling her name. None of these listeners seemed to notice her poor state, nor did they hear those subtle slips… except for Chi Yeyu.

In the gap before the next song, Ci Cheng poked her back with a drumstick, reminding her: “Adjust your state.”

Shi Shuxue didn’t speak, she just nodded obediently.

Her performance improved after that. While there weren’t many brilliant flares, she didn’t make any more mistakes, finishing the set by the book.

The performance ended, and the lights flared bright. The cheers were like a tide.

Yu Xiu grabbed the mic and shouted with a smile, “Thank you everyone! Screaming Goldfish, Happy New Year!”

The crowd responded in unison: “Happy New Year!”

The house lights illuminated the four figures standing side by side.

Shi Shuxue caught a few passionate shouts from the crowd:

“Little Xue! Look over here!”

“The bass was amazing!”

Hearing this, her movements paused for a fraction of a second.

Then, she raised her head, her gaze sweeping over the faces filled with excitement and support. Her lips curved slightly, and she gave her fans a soft, gentle smile.

Immediately, a wave of noise even more ferocious than her bass solo erupted.

“AHHH!!! SHE SMILED!!!”

“Smile again! Do it again!”

“Little Xue smiled at me!”

“It was worth it… my life is complete…” Song Ting covered her mouth, her eyes instantly reddening. She spoke incoherently to her companion, “Did you get it? Did you film it? Let me see! Why did she only smile for a second?”

The companion was startled by her exaggerated reaction and pushed her face away. “Didn’t get it. Do you know what a ‘flash in the pan’ is? It’s hard enough for that poker face of hers to do that.”

The overhead lights of the venue were now fully on, making the stage, which they had been so immersed in, look clear and realistic. The crowd began to disperse, the air humming with satisfied and excited chatter, like various small shells left on a beach after the tide recedes.

Chi Yeyu pulled her hat lower and adjusted her mask, preparing to follow the flow of people toward the exit, but her arm was grabbed by a girl whose face was flushed with excitement.

“Um, Miss!” Song Ting’s eyes were sparkling. “Sorry to bother you! Did you… did you catch that? Little Xue’s smile! Right at the end of Snowy Night Flight! I saw you holding up your phone earlier.”

Chi Yeyu paused. Her voice was a bit muffled through the mask. “No.”

Song Ting said regretfully, “That’s such a shame! She rarely smiles on stage, she’s such a cold goddess.”

When I tickle her in private, that kid laughs until she can’t breathe, her face covered in tears, Chi Yeyu thought.

“Yeah, our goddess is very cold,” she said.

“Right, right!” Hearing the agreement, Song Ting immediately felt she had found a kindred spirit, her voice rising. “Oh my god, I’ve been a fan for so long and this is the first time I’ve seen her smile live! Even if it was just for a tiny bit, but… ahhh!”

Chi Yeyu thought that the poker faced kid probably knew she played poorly this time, and feeling guilty toward her fans, she pulled out a smile to try and compensate with her face.

However, Song Ting hadn’t heard a single mistake. She covered her face and shared eagerly, “You’re a ‘Xue Stan’ too, right? I saw you staring at the bass area so quietly earlier.”

Chi Yeyu gave a soft “Mm,” her gaze passing through her grey lenses to land on the now-empty stage.

“She was so cool tonight…” Song Ting, immersed in her own excitement, began to list details. “Did you hear that improv during Powder Snow? That swirling feeling was so special! And then during Liminality, that low bass… my heart almost jumped out of my chest! She doesn’t talk much usually, but the bass speaks for her, don’t you think?”

Chi Yeyu said, “Yes, her bass is very expressive.”

“Exactly! I filmed some clips, though they’re a bit shaky… look at this!” Validated, Song Ting became even happier, opening a video on her phone.

It happened to be the moment Shi Shuxue took that small step forward during the bridge of Powder Snow, her profile looking stunningly beautiful under the lights. Her lashes, long like the wings of a swallowtail butterfly, were lowered, her expression focused and restrained.

Looking at that calm silhouette on the screen, a strange feeling rose in Chi Yeyu’s heart.

Her private treasure was being sincerely admired, loved, and interpreted by so many people.

Song Ting said, “She’s truly wonderful. I’ll always support her.”

Chi Yeyu continued to agree: “She’s impressive, isn’t she? The bassist.”

Song Ting: “I’m definitely coming to the next special show.”

Chi Yeyu replied: “I’ll be at every show from now on.”