She Adopted Me After My Biological Mother Passed Away - Chapter 49

When they woke up the next day, Shi Shuxue seemed to have no memory of what happened the previous night. Dressed in an outfit that could be interpreted as either a “couple’s look” or a “mother-daughter look,” she woke Chi Yeyu up as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

Struggling to peel her eyelids open at the edge of the bed, Chi Yeyu looked at Shi Shuxue and asked curiously, “Why aren’t you under the covers?”

“…I felt pretty hot before I went to sleep last night,” Chi Yeyu mumbled, her hair messy as she scrambled out of bed.

It was currently the first lunar month. Even with the air conditioning constantly on, the indoor temperature was only around 20°C. Shi Shuxue remarked, “Well, you’re certainly impressive then.”

Chi Yeyu gave a little huff and started pulling on her clothes.

Their itinerary for the day was the theme park. By the time they stepped out, Chi Yeyu had regained her vitality. With a light backpack slung over her shoulder, her steps were as airy as a bird newly released from its cage, her eyes were bright, sparkling with anticipation for the park.

Shi Shuxue followed behind her, her tone calm as usual: “Walk slower. It’s crowded, don’t get yourself lost.”

The cheerful music of the park entrance and the roar of the crowds hit them instantly. Massive colorful signs and strangely shaped buildings immediately pulled them into another world.

Chi Yeyu was nearly at a jog when she felt her wrist being grabbed, bringing her to a halt.

“I have the tickets.” A reliable Shi Shuxue waved the two electronic ticket vouchers in her hand. “Which area first? Should we look at the map or just go in order?”

“Is there anything you want to play? I want to ride that one where you lie face down, the roller coaster. I heard it’s very comfortable,” Chi Yeyu said.

Shi Shuxue went silent for a moment and asked, “The Flying Dinosaur?”

Chi Yeyu nodded frantically. “Yes, that’s the one! Little Xue, you’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“I’m not,” Shi Shuxue replied. “Just take me wherever you want to go. We can draw the timed entry tickets for the afternoon.”

“Great!”

Once inside, Chi Yeyu pulled Shi Shuxue straight toward the roller coaster. Having bought Express Passes in advance, they didn’t need to waste time in line. After passing security, the two sat side by side as the staff helped them fasten their safety locks.

Shi Shuxue suddenly leaned into Chi Yeyu’s ear: “Security for this project is very strict.”

“Yeah, but it’s not scary,” Chi Yeyu said. “It’s okay to scream later. I won’t laugh at you.”

The seats slowly shifted until they were parallel to the ground, face down, with limbs tightly secured. Shi Shuxue suddenly felt a sense of dread, and her lips turned a bit pale.

Not scary? Did Chi Yeyu really not lie to her?

The next second, the roller coaster moved.

It started with a slow crawl. Shi Shuxue gripped the safety bar in front of her. She could feel her body being lifted bit by bit, the ground in her vision grew further away until the crowds shrank into multicolored dots.

Chi Yeyu’s voice came from beside her, tinged with a skip of laughter: “Look down, isn’t it spectacular?”

Shi Shuxue didn’t respond, she closed her eyes, her throat tightening.

Just as she managed to steady her breathing, the coaster suddenly stalled. Then, without warning, it plunged downward.

Wind rushed in from all directions, numbing her cheeks. Her eardrums throbbed from the whistling air currents, and a sense of weightlessness surged over her like a tidal wave.

Shi Shuxue’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of her throat. Her mind went blank, and her only reaction was to bite her lip hard, in her extreme terror, she couldn’t even make a sound.

Beside her, Chi Yeyu was having a blast. The screams of others mixed with her laughter reached Shi Shuxue’s ears, her voice clear and bold: “This is so much fun!”

Shi Shuxue: “…” I want to die!

She wanted to say something, but opening her mouth only resulted in a gulp of wind.

The coaster twisted and tumbled frantically along the tracks, sometimes racing sideways, sometimes spiraling downward. She felt like a spinning top tossed into mid-air, her limbs bound, leaving her no room to even struggle.

She could only keep her eyes shut tight, allowing the dizzying sensation of the world spinning to envelop her, until a moment of flipping when she caught a glimpse of Chi Yeyu’s profile. The other girl had her bright eyes wide open, smiling wantonly against the wind.

After an unknown amount of time, the coaster finally slowed down, gliding into the terminal station.

The moment it came to a halt, Shi Shuxue slumped in her seat, unable to regain her composure for a long time, not even noticing the staff coming to unlock the safety restraints.

Chi Yeyu, however, was nimble. She hopped down and reached out to pull her, her tone teasing: “How was it? I didn’t lie, right? It wasn’t scary…”

Before she could finish, she saw Shi Shuxue’s legs go weak as she leaned against the station railing. Her face was as white as paper, her lips devoid of color, looking as if she might collapse the next second.

Chi Yeyu hurriedly stepped forward to support her: “Hey, Little Xue? Are you okay?”

Shi Shuxue waved her off, taking a good while to find her voice, which was still trembling: “Chi Yeyu, you’re a liar.”

Chi Yeyu half-held and half-guided her out, sitting her down on a bench and feeding her water: “Poor Little Xue, look at this pale face. Hurry, drink some water.”

Shi Shuxue leaned against the back of the bench, eyes closed to recover. Her long eyelashes fluttered heavily, and her cheeks flushed with a faint red.

Chi Yeyu held the water bottle out. She pressed her lips to the rim, taking a small sip to moisten her dry throat, then glanced sideways at Chi Yeyu.

“You said it wasn’t scary. Just now, I felt like my soul was flying out.”

Chi Yeyu truly didn’t think it was frightening, she even wanted to go a few more times but seeing her like this, her heart softened completely. She reached out to help straighten Shi Shuxue’s wind-blown hair.

“It’s my fault. I exaggerated. Do you want to go buy some ice cream to calm your nerves?”

“You just want to eat it yourself.” Shi Shuxue rolled her eyes and took the water bottle, drinking slowly as the dizzying sensation faded. “Go buy it yourself, just let me have a taste.”

Chi Yeyu’s eyes lit up, and she immediately stood tall: “No problem! Wait here, I’ll be right back!”

Shi Shuxue watched her receding back, her gaze darkening slightly.

She put the water bottle back in the bag and noticed Chi Yeyu hadn’t taken her phone. As she picked it up, the screen lit up, the wallpaper was the photo of her holding the pennant from yesterday.

Seeing that bizarre photo, the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. Chi Yeyu was a total idiot, and she seemed to have been infected by this bona fide idiot.

A moment later, Chi Yeyu returned with a cup of ice cream. There were two scoops: Mint Chocolate on top and Pop Rocks flavor on the bottom.

After Chi Yeyu finished her introduction, she scooped a bit and held it to her lips: “You try it first.”

Shi Shuxue swallowed it in one bite and frowned: “So sweet.”

“That’s perfect, I’ll eat it then.” It was exactly what Chi Yeyu wanted.

They went on to play several non-stimulating attractions and bought a pile of strange trinkets in the souvenir shop, including gifts for Yu Xiu and the others.

In the afternoon, they came out of a haunted house just in time to stumble upon the parade.

Following the direction Shi Shuxue pointed, Chi Yeyu saw an exquisitely decorated, gaudy float slowly passing by. The characters on the float, dressed in iconic mascot costumes, waved to the tourists by the roadside.

“Which one do you like?” Chi Yeyu asked.

Shi Shuxue pointed to the “Red Hat” and “Green Hat” (Mario and Luigi).

“Why do you like those two?”

“Sister Tiangua has been playing that game with me lately.”

Chi Yeyu was quiet for a long time until the Red and Green Hats were pulled away by the float and the noisy crowd dispersed. Only then did she say, “We used to play that together, too.”

Shi Shuxue said, “I don’t remember.”

Chi Yeyu suddenly felt that the decorative cookie in her mouth wasn’t sweet anymore. She looked around but couldn’t find a trash can, so she stuffed the wrapper in her pocket.

Shi Shuxue pulled out a small bag: “Put it in here for now.”

So, Chi Yeyu pulled the trash out again and lowered her head to drop it in.

“There are several Switches at home. Do you want to play together when we get back?” Shi Shuxue asked.

Chi Yeyu snapped her head toward her, her pupils seemingly sparkling with light.

Shi Shuxue blinked. Chi Yeyu pretended to think about it for a moment, adopting the reservedness of an adult: “I’ve already played it several times.”

“Never mind then.” Shi Shuxue looked at the map app on her phone, preparing to head to the next area.

Chi Yeyu grabbed her arm: “I want to play it with you countless more times.”

Shi Shuxue reluctantly agreed: “Fine. This time, I’ll definitely remember.”

Overjoyed, Chi Yeyu pulled her close, tilted her chin, and gave her a loud smack on the cheek. Shi Shuxue wiped the spot where she had been kissed and whispered a reminder: “Don’t kiss me, we’re still outside!”

“But I’m so excited, I can’t help it,” Chi Yeyu said.

Shi Shuxue didn’t believe her at all, thinking to herself: Then why don’t you want to “do it”? It must be because you don’t have those kinds of feelings for me.

It was at that moment that Li Lingling’s message came through.

The phone vibrated, and a familiar avatar popped up on the screen. Shi Shuxue’s finger paused before she swiped to unlock it.

Li Lingling’s message jumped out, the excitement barely contained between the lines: Things are settled with Lin Canglian! Next Monday at 3:00 PM, meeting in S City, I’ll send you the detailed address. It should be an independent practice room; she said she wants to chat with you face to face about the bass arrangement.

Lin Canglian was a recognized legend in the bass world, in her early forties, playing the bass with fluid mastery. Her tours were always packed, and she only appeared in top-tier magazine interviews.

For such a senior to choose such a low-profile rehearsal room for a meeting was quite unexpected.

Shi Shuxue stared at the screen, her fingers stiffening.

Next Monday… wasn’t that tomorrow?

“What’s wrong?” Chi Yeyu leaned over to look at the screen. Her eyes swept over the text, and her eyebrows arched. “Meeting Senior Lin Canglian?”

Shi Shuxue asked, “Do we have other plans for tomorrow?”

“We didn’t, but now we do.” Chi Yeyu copied the address into Google and checked it. “That address isn’t far from our hotel, it’s about an hour’s taxi ride.”

“Then we’ll head out tomorrow afternoon,” Shi Shuxue said.

“A simple meeting can get our Teacher Shi this excited?” Chi Yeyu pinched her cheek; the cool temperature made her shiver slightly. “Nervous?”

Shi Shuxue slapped her hand away and stuffed a hand warmer into her palm.

“Who’s nervous?”

She postured with words but couldn’t help repeatedly checking her phone screen. Her heart was in a mess, caught between anticipation and trepidation for the meeting, and a sudden surge of anxiety.

Seeing her distracted state, Chi Yeyu didn’t call her out. She simply reached out to grab her wrist and led her toward the carousel: “Don’t think about that for now. Accompany me on the carousel one last time, okay?”

Returning to the hotel that night, Shi Shuxue dug out recordings of her previous performances, listening to her bass parts over and over, her fingers tapping out the rhythm on her leg.

Chi Yeyu came out after her shower. Seeing that she wasn’t asleep yet, she walked over and sat beside her, taking the phone from her hand: “Stop brooding. Once you meet the senior tomorrow, maybe everything will suddenly become clear.”

Shi Shuxue looked up at her: “Are you coming with me?”

“Where else would I go? Did you want to banish me somewhere?” Chi Yeyu asked strangely.

After a moment of silence, Shi Shuxue asked, “Do you think she can help me?”

Chi Yeyu didn’t give a definitive answer, only saying: “Just give it a try. Li Lingling recommended it like this for a reason.”

She nodded and lay down obediently, yet she didn’t fall into a hazy sleep until after midnight. Perhaps because Chi Yeyu was beside her, her dreams were filled with bass melodies that wouldn’t play smoothly.

The next afternoon, the car passed through several quiet alleys and finally stopped by an inconspicuous iron gate. There was no signage on the lintel, only a small doorbell hanging on the wall.

Shi Shuxue took a deep breath and reached out to press the bell.

After a few seconds, the door was pulled open. A woman in black cargo pants with sharp, short hair stood at the door. She looked to be in her early forties, her gaze sharp but not flashy, it was indeed Lin Canglian.

“You must be Shi Shuxue?” Lin Canglian’s gaze swept over her and then gave a faint glance at the Chi Yeyu beside her. Her tone wasn’t particularly warm, but it carried a touch of courtesy. “Come in. Lingling told me everything.”

Shi Shuxue bowed her head: “Hello, Teacher Lin.”

Following Lin Canglian into the rehearsal room, Shi Shuxue discovered there was more to the place than met the eye.

The space wasn’t particularly large, but the soundproofing was excellent. Several professional instruments stood against the wall, and a black bass leaned against an amplifier, the very one she had seen in magazines used by Lin Canglian.

The floor was covered with a non-slip rug, with a drum kit set in the center. Beside it were a mixing console and various effects pedals.

“Make yourselves at home.” Lin Canglian pointed to the sofa nearby and sat down next to the bass.

She picked up a plectrum and casually plucked a few notes, the tone clean and transparent. She got straight to the point: “Lingling said you’ve run into some issues with your recent performances, the bass isn’t smooth, and both the emotion and melody are lacking a bit of ‘soul’?”

Being pierced to the core as soon as she opened her mouth, Shi Shuxue froze for a moment, then nodded and admitted honestly: “Yes. I can play it smoothly during rehearsal, but on stage, I always feel like the emotion gets stuck halfway. The melodies I arrange for the songs also feel like they lack inspiration…”

What she didn’t say was that the musical phrases Chi Yeyu had casually pointed out before actually followed the emotion more naturally, but when she tried to polish them independently recently, she inevitably fell into a rut of following the rules.

Lin Canglian listened, her gaze shifting to Shi Shuxue: “I’ve heard your previous performances. Lingling sent them to me. It is as you said, your technique has no major issues, but it lacks ‘living’ elements. Are you practicing too hard and boxing yourself in?”

Shi Shuxue lowered her eyes: “Maybe. But I’ve been busy with school lately and haven’t practiced much; I just don’t know how to break this deadlock.”

“You’re a student… high school?”

Shi Shuxue answered: “College.”

“Music major?”

Shi Shuxue shook her head: “No.”

Lin Canglian put down the plectrum and leaned forward slightly: “Then you should see the bass as something simpler. You care too much about playing it correctly, and instead, you’ve neglected playing it vibrantly. That solo you arranged is very thoughtful and can push the song’s emotion, but during the live performance, you were too nervous. You tightened your own emotions too much, so naturally, the melody lost its spirit.”

These words coincided perfectly with the conclusions Shi Shuxue had reached in her private review, but the source of the problem in that performance was the person beside her, Chi Yeyu. She couldn’t very well say that she only gets nervous because Chi Yeyu is watching her.

Lin Canglian smiled and pointed to the drum kit nearby, then looked at Chi Yeyu.

Alarm bells rang in Shi Shuxue’s heart.

Sure enough, Lin Canglian said the words she least wanted to hear: “Don’t you have a great helper right beside you? Bass and drums are natural partners. Come, use this bass and try to play a segment, anything at all. Let your friend here play the drums. I want to hear the coordination between you two.”