The Companion Player Doesn’t Want a Shura Field [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 13

There were two classes in the evening. One was a rap course led by the famous Country H rapper and music producer, Xu Xian, and the other was a physical training class commonly set by entertainment companies.

Compared to vocals and dance, Cui Yuxuan’s talent and flair for rap were indeed unmatched by the others.

Whether it was the precision of his rhythm or the timing of his emotional outbursts, he was like a skilled hunter, moving with ease within his own hunting grounds.

As the last word fell, Cui Yuxuan took a breath and sat back against the wall next to Qi Ming. He tilted his head to look at the youth’s tired face and tossed him a bottle of mineral water.

“Do you want some water?”

“Thank you, Hyung!”

Effortlessly twisting the bottle open, Cui Yuxuan licked his dry lips. But just as he touched the mouth of the bottle to his own, he heard a somewhat distressed male voice speak slowly beside his ear.

“Ah, I think I just drank from that.”

What?

Cui Yuxuan turned his head reflexively, but with too much force. The mouthful of water choked his windpipe, completely disrupting his swallowing rhythm. He covered his mouth with his hand and let out a violent cough.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Lightly patting the youth’s protruding shoulder blades as he hunched forward, Qi Ming knitted his brows in concern and offered a helpless comfort.

“Does Xiao Xuan dislike me that much? To be scared like this?”

“Cough, no!” Hearing his words, Cui Yuxuan did not care to soothe the itch in his throat. He looked up and waved his hands in a frantic denial.

“I, I was just too thirsty and drank too fast. I did not mean I disliked Hyung!”

However, as he looked up, Cui Yuxuan inadvertently saw the young man’s thin lips, moistened by water and glowing with a faint red luster, like flower petals covered in morning dew.

So, the mouth of the bottle he just touched was also touched by Hyung’s mouth just now.

Cui Yuxuan, stop it. You cannot think about this anymore!

They are both boys. Sharing a bottle of water is no big deal. Does it not happen all the time during physical education class at school? He did not need to make a fuss.

As he thought about it, Cui Yuxuan could not help but lower his head and bite the mouth of the bottle again, his tongue rubbing against it back and forth, feeling a sudden sweetness spreading through the water.

“What a pity. I was going to say, if Xiao Xuan dared to dislike me, he should bring his own water next time.”

Qi Ming rested his right arm behind his head. Noticing Cui Yuxuan’s reddening ears, he raised an eyebrow and looked away, his tone filled with undisguised regret.

“Hyung, I really did not dislike it.”

“Fine, I am teasing you. Why are you so serious?”

Patting Cui Yuxuan’s head and feeling the prickly texture against his palm, Qi Ming curled his lips and smiled exceptionally happily. Suddenly remembering something, he rolled up the lyric sheet in his hand, held it to the other person’s mouth, and let out two light coughs.

“So, what did Xiao Xuan think of my rap just now? Do I not have quite a bit of rap talent?”

Hearing the youth’s question, Cui Yuxuan’s body stiffened visibly. He looked at those expectant emerald phoenix eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he hesitated, not knowing how to speak.

How should he say it? Should he say that Hyung’s performance just now did not sound like rap, but more like storytelling? Would that not destroy his self confidence?

While Cui Yuxuan was struggling with whether to tell the truth, Kim Woosung, who had been waiting for a chance for a long time, immediately leaned toward Qi Ming. He showed those signature star eyes and exclaimed in admiration.

“Wow! I think Hyung sang amazingly! Every word was so clear!”

“Ah, it is not that exaggerated. Just normally amazing.”

Though he was humble with his words, the corners of Qi Ming’s eyes and brows were overflowing with the joy of being praised. He happily pulled Kim Woosung into his arms, stroking that brown curly hair that felt so good to the touch.

“As long as Xiao Wo works a bit harder, you can sing as well as I do.”

In just a few seconds, Cui Yuxuan was squeezed away from Qi Ming’s side. He looked at Kim Woosung lying in the other’s arms, unfolded his arms in a panic, and quickly hugged Qi Ming’s waist, his eyes feeling a bit dry.

The thought that had flashed through his mind just now was how to tell Qi Ming the truth, but he had not considered what kind of answer the other person wanted to hear when he asked that question.

Regarding Kim Woosung’s flattering praise, Cui Yuxuan could not say he was lying through his teeth. After all, although Qi Ming’s rap sounded like a recitation, every word was indeed pronounced super clearly.

He lowered his head and squeezed the mineral water bottle in his hand, the bottle making a clicking sound. The way Qi Ming treated Kim Woosung made Cui Yuxuan feel very jealous. Every time Hyung patted his head, it was very brief. He seemed to prefer rubbing that guy’s brown curls more.

Was it because his own hair was too prickly?

Withdrawing his gaze from Cui Yuxuan, Qi Ming urged Kim Woosung to stop being lazy and go practice so he could catch up to him.

Once the boy left obediently, he stood up nimbly and walked to the only window in the practice room. He rested his elbows on the windowsill, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air. The evening breeze, carrying the scent of moist earth, blew the strands of hair falling from the edges of Qi Ming’s headband.

A sensation of paper edges brushing against his bare arm suddenly came. Qi Ming turned his head to see Bian He holding a handwritten sheet of paper with both hands, offering it to him.

Without asking what it was, he took it and scanned it briefly. The parts marked in red were all the small details Qi Ming had accidentally ignored during practice.

Now that Bian He had noted them, he remembered them immediately. This person had been watching him closely all along.

Holding the paper, Qi Ming held it horizontally to cover his mouth. Only those green eyes were visible, quietly looking at Bian He, his eyelashes fluttering into an upward curve.

In Bian He’s eyes, it was like beautiful musical notes jumping on a score. Even though Qi Ming did not say a single word, he could still hear that person’s gentle and sweet voice, silently playing the most moving movement.

I like it very much. Thank you, Xiao He.

The chirping of insects intertwined in his ears, and an occasional dog bark came from the distance, short and abrupt.

Bian He suddenly pulled a black coil notebook from his pocket. His hand holding the pen moved rapidly across it, but his gaze remained fixed on Qi Ming without blinking.

From his angle, the moonlight happened to drape half a veil of white over the youth’s profile. The breath brushing past his nose was a mixture of straw, wet soil, unknown wildflowers, and a strange, sweet caramel coffee scent.

This moment brought Bian He back to the scene of his first meeting with Qi Ming. That day was also such a quiet yet noisy night. He was holding his guitar in the middle of an unfamiliar square, trying to get tips from passersby through his performance.

However, most people only stopped for a moment out of curiosity. After realizing the songs the street performer sang were original songs they had never heard of, they quickly hurried away.

Because at that time, Bian He had no flashy vocal style or technique, nor did he have any touching emotions or expressions. All he had was a broken guitar and a tune he had revised for three days and nights that was still not quite right.

He wore long bangs that completely covered his face, and a bucket hat on his head. He played the guitar like a vagrant under a bridge.

Occasionally, a few people threw coins into his bowl, but they only stayed for a moment before losing interest.

He did not care. Bian He just slowly plucked the strings, repeating that strange melody. Not until a pair of white sneakers appeared in the field of vision covered by his hat brim.

Before he could react, a beautiful, slender hand used its fingertips to roll up a brand new 50,000 H won note and precisely tossed it into the enamel bowl that held only a few coins.

“Hey, little guy, do you live in a field? Why do you always play the sounds of crickets and grasshoppers? Can you play anything else?”

The person’s voice made Bian He hear the wind sweeping through a wheat field in autumn. It was the rustling sound of falling grain, the joy flickering in the heart during a harvest.

He actually understood what I was playing.

“What do you want to hear?”

Without looking up, Bian He whispered his question.

“Hmm, let me think.”

The person paused for a few seconds and snapped his fingers, his voice filled with obvious pleasure.

“Can you play ‘The Hawthorn Tree First Love’? I really love listening to that one.”

This was a famous love song written by a folk singer for his beloved tea picking girl. The whole song carried the bitterness and sweetness of a secret crush.

After hesitating for a moment, Bian He used his fingertips to hook the guitar strings, plucking the first note. Then, the smooth music poured out like a flowing stream.

“No matter spring, autumn, or winter, this heart will only remain for you.”

As the song neared its end, the person’s casual low humming suddenly sounded in Bian He’s ear. It was truly casual; several words did not even hit the right key.

But Bian He stopped his playing and looked up abruptly, desperate to know the other person’s appearance.

The moment he looked up, he saw a vast, swaying spring rice field. The moonlight kissed the long, slender green leaves, and tiny stars fell into the field, winding together to form a flowing silver ocean.

A sensation of trembling never felt before spread through Bian He’s entire body.

He saw his Muse.

The light of his soul.

All the songs he had written before turned into flying fireflies in that instant. He saw the youth tilt his head and ask him.

“How was it? Did I sing well?”

“Beautiful.”

He heard himself say that.

“Haha, thank you. Little guy, your hat fell off.”

The black haired youth narrowed his emerald eyes, leaned down to pick up the bucket hat that had fallen because Bian He looked up so sharply, and gently placed it back on his head.

“Your eyes are very beautiful. Remember to show them next time; more people will listen to you play the guitar.”

“Excuse me, can I…”

Biting his lip, Bian He pulled away the brim of the hat covering his eyes and gathered his courage to speak, but only a surging crowd of strangers remained before him.

The person was gone.

He wanted to ask: Brother, can I write songs for you?

He did not ask the question.

When they met again, Bian He stared blankly at the person’s familiar green eyes and heard him say.

“Your voice is very pleasant. It is perfect for singing love songs!”

But I have already sung a love song for you alone. Do you still remember?

Qi Ming ge.