To Get Married - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Whenever the topic of ideals came up, Lu Yudong’s mind would go blank.

It seemed she had never had much in the way of ideals growing up. She firmly believed that the most important thing in life was to be stable—not necessarily seeking excitement, but simply asking for a life without storms. For the future, her only thought seemed to be making sure Manzhu could live in a better house, so that their food, clothing, and entertainment would no longer be so strained.

However, just because she lacked ideals didn’t mean others did.

Shortly after the start of their sophomore year of high school, Zhang Ziyun dragged her into thinking about which university to attend and which major to choose. Although Yuanchuan was a second-tier city, it had deep cultural roots and steady economic development. Combined with a slow pace of life, low work pressure, and an abundance of local delicacies, most people who lived there for a while were reluctant to leave.

Since the two girls decided to stay in the city for university, they naturally had to choose a local school and work hard toward that goal.

Zhang Ziyun’s goal was very clear: the Yuanchuan Conservatory of Music, which was quite famous nationwide. She said her dream since childhood was to be a singer. Previously, she had been set on the Imperial Music Conservatory, spending most of her spare time on piano, vocal, and theory lessons, building a solid foundation.

Back then, she didn’t study hard partly because she relied on the fact that art students had lower grade requirements; as long as her cultural scores were passable, she was fine. Thus, her days were quite leisurely.

But studying music was incredibly expensive. Besides the main vocal lessons, there were theory, sight-singing, and ear-training—each lesson charged separately. Ever since her family’s disaster, she didn’t have the money to continue. It must be said that the car accident didn’t just break her family; it crushed her self-confidence. Weighed down by debt, she once didn’t dare face her former dreams.

Now, with a new goal, that dream was reignited.

“Yuanchuan Conservatory is a bit easier to get into than the Imperial one,” Zhang Ziyun said, sounding a bit uncertain. “But I haven’t had a private lesson in over six months, and by senior year, I won’t have the money for the intensive pre-exam training… If I still want to go to the conservatory, I have to find a way to study and practice on my own.”

“It’s possible, right? You can practice without a teacher, can’t you?” Lu Yudong, knowing nothing of the field, offered her habitual encouragement.

Zhang Ziyun suddenly nudged Yudong’s elbow, her eyes sparkling. “There’s a piano on the stage at the bar. Yudong, do you think the Boss would agree if I asked to borrow it?”

Lu Yudong thought for a moment. “Probably?”

“If there’s a piano, I can practice sight-singing myself.” Ziyun pondered for a bit and added, “If someone could play for me, I could even practice ear-training… Does anyone at our bar know how to play piano? I’ve never seen anyone touch it.”

Lu Yudong shook her head. “It’s probably just a decoration. It seems no one knows how.”

If memory served, there truly wasn’t a single person at Not An Old Friend who could play. The piano in the corner had been bought years ago when the bar had no permanent singer and relied on temporary student workers. Back then, the hiring criteria were broad: besides having a good image and being able to sing/chat, singers who could play an instrument earned more. Many music students could play while singing—guitar, piano, even the occasional pipa or guzheng. While those instruments could be brought by the performer, a piano could not. When applicants were asked about instruments, nine out of ten mentioned the piano, so the bar eventually added one.

But once Manzhu arrived, there was no more need for temporary singers, and the piano sat idle.

Zhang Ziyun pursed her lips and shook her head. “It’s okay, we’ll see… If I can borrow it, I’ll get a pass to leave school every day at noon to practice there.”

“Ah…” Lu Yudong was stunned.

“What do you mean ‘ah’? You have to work hard!” Ziyun said, suddenly grabbing Yudong’s arm. “Do you want to take the entrance exam for Yuanchuan Music with me?”

“Me… me… ME?” Lu Yudong seriously doubted she had heard correctly.

But in the next second, Zhang Ziyun pushed on: “Yeah! If we take the exam together, we can go to the same university! We could register together and maybe even be roommates again!”

Lu Yudong was flabbergasted. “I… I have no foundation.”

“I’ll teach you! Sight-singing, ear-training, and vocals—I can teach you all of it! I’ve been learning since I was a kid; we can practice together!” The more Ziyun spoke, the more feasible it seemed. “I’ve heard you sing. You have pitch and rhythm, and your voice isn’t bad. You’re just a bit inhibited and don’t know the proper vocal techniques. I can teach you… and, and Sister Manzhu can teach you! She sings so well; she can definitely help!”

Lu Yudong blinked blankly.

Zhang Ziyun began to wheedle, “Yudong, please do it with me. If you don’t… I don’t even know how to bring it up to the Boss! You know he’ll agree to anything you say, but I’m different.”

“But… but is it really not too late for me to start learning now?”

The national art exams were held half a year before the regular college entrance exams. She was already a sophomore; the idea of “cramming” in just a year and a half sounded impossible.

“It’s fine, there’s time. Trust me. I’ve seen people who learned for years and then only really ‘crammed’ in the last six months. You have a year and a half! Once we settle the theory and ear-training, you can just practice one piece to death, let Sister Manzhu help you with the details, and it won’t be hard to get a good score!”

“Is it hard to find a job with this major?”

“A lot of majors are hard to find jobs in these days. Most jobs are just fixed salaries anyway, and they might not even pay as well as our bar. Since we have to learn something, what’s the difference?”

“But so many people are good at singing; not everyone gets famous or makes money,” Yudong hesitated. “And I get stage fright. I don’t even dare participate in class holiday parties, let alone be a singer…”

“Stupid! Who says music students have to be singers? You can choose a ‘behind-the-scenes’ major! If you don’t think you’re suited for performance, choose music production!” Ziyun said. “Sister Manzhu sings so beautifully—haven’t you ever thought about writing a song for her? If you learn to write songs, you could personally write one for her every year for her birthday. Think how happy she’d be!”

“Even if you have no talent for songwriting, you could learn recording or mixing… And worst-case scenario, once you learn the piano, you can get a teaching certificate. Giving private lessons pays so much! One lesson is more than I make standing behind the bar all night!”

“Besides, there aren’t many famous schools in Yuanchuan besides the Conservatory. The provincial unified exam is in December. If you pass, the academic score requirement is low. With your grades, even if you slack off the second half of senior year, you’re guaranteed admission. Staying in Yuanchuan would be so easy! If you don’t pass, there’s still time to do a final sprint for the regular exam!”

“If you get in, we’ll be schoolmates again. If we register in order, we can be roommates for another four years!”

Zhang Ziyun’s logic was sound, and Lu Yudong was actually moved. If one private lesson really paid that much, she could earn quite a bit in a month…

After a brief hesitation, she looked up and asked, “If you teach me, won’t it hold you back?”

“No! Teaching you is like reviewing the basics for myself!”

And just like that, Lu Yudong was dizzily dragged by Zhang Ziyun into a shared goal: working together to get into the Yuanchuan Conservatory of Music.

Lu Yudong hesitated for a long time before she dared to tell Manzhu about this sudden decision. In all these years, Yudong had rarely asked Manzhu for anything. Now that she was finally speaking up, even though it sounded difficult, Manzhu nodded and agreed immediately without a second thought.

Not only did she agree, but she gave Yudong absolute support and encouragement.

However, she hadn’t expected that Yudong’s sudden desire to learn music was influenced by Zhang Ziyun—that the two girls wanted to go to the same school, or that Ziyun would personally teach Yudong the basics, meaning they would be together at the bar’s piano every single day. This required the homeroom teacher to give them long-term leave passes, which required a parent’s signature.

Upon learning the truth, Manzhu had her first thought of not making things easy for Yudong. But in the end, she still signed the application.

At the moment of signing, Manzhu had a money-burning thought: “Should I find a professional teacher for you?”

Lu Yudong was startled. “It’s so expensive!”

“Is it?” Manzhu asked.

“Ziyun said: Theory is 150, sight-singing and ear-training is 200, and vocals is 300…”

“That sounds cheap,” Manzhu said.

“That’s the price for one lesson,” Yudong added.

Manzhu fell into a long silence.

Later, everyone at the bar began to persuade her.

“Zhang Ziyun has been learning since she was a kid; she’s more than capable of teaching the basics. If Yudong wants to learn and she’s willing to teach, let the two girls mess around.”

“I knew someone who only started singing in sophomore year for the art exam. They only found a cheap theory teacher in senior year—a freshman in college—and they taught just fine. Xiao Zhang isn’t much younger than a college freshman. If she’s willing, let Little Sister Yudong learn from her.”

“Exactly, don’t waste a free teacher.”

The logic was sound, but Manzhu was just… unhappy. Those two girls were already inseparable at school; now they’d be glued together after school to study music. How could she feel at ease?

Seeing Manzhu brooding, Mu Chenshan comforted her kindly: “Fine, I’ll keep an eye on them for you. I’ll report any ‘abnormalities’ immediately. Is that good enough?”

Manzhu sulked for a bit. “No need. I’ve already rationalized it.”

“If you’ve rationalized it, why are you still grumbling and obsessing?”

“Who’s obsessing? Where? About what? Which eye saw me obsessing?” Manzhu grew more irritable as she spoke. She suddenly slammed a table, breaking it, and stood up. She curled her fingers like claws, glowing with red spiritual light, and held them in front of Mu Chenshan’s face. “Is something wrong with your eyes lately?”

To save his eyes, Mu Chenshan fled immediately, not even daring to mention compensation—he just silently noted it in the ledger.

From then on, the two girls would take the bus to the bar every day at noon after school. They’d eat a quick bite and then run to the piano to start vocalizing and singing. The entire bar was filled with the sounds of their “mimimi~ mamama,” “dododo~ lalala,” and “ya-ya-ya-ah-ah-ah” as they climbed up and down the scales.

Besides the noon practice, Ziyun taught Yudong theory during other spare moments. Sometimes when she encountered something she didn’t understand, she’d look it up online and then teach Yudong. Later, they filled a notebook with lyrics and sang together on the rooftop of the teaching building, in the corners of the playground, and in the gazebo. If there was one thing that frustrated them, it was Zhang Hao always finding them in those spots, making Lu Yudong too shy to open her mouth.

In their sophomore year, the school held an arts festival, and the two signed up for a duet. It was Lu Yudong’s first time performing on stage. She was deathly nervous; her voice shook for the first half of the song, only stabilizing in the second half. She never expected that despite her stage fright, they actually won a prize. Though it had much to do with Zhang Ziyun, it gave her a significant boost in confidence.

Sophomore year passed in a flash, and soon it was the first semester of senior year. Having built a solid theoretical foundation, Zhang Ziyun led Yudong through sight-singing and ear-training exercises. To be a good “little teacher,” Ziyun downloaded a simulated electronic organ and a metronome on her phone to help with pitch and rhythm—a setup that was both humble and touchingly professional.

In mid-December, they both participated in the provincial art unified exam. Shortly before the exam, Lu Yudong belatedly realized that what she had learned only qualified her for the “Music Performance” major; other majors had different requirements. Zhang Ziyun had told her “test first, then apply for other majors later”—she was truly a big deceiver. But it didn’t matter. If she didn’t know what to do in the future, being a teacher was always a safe bet.

Thinking this, Lu Yudong walked nervously into the exam room after her name was called.

The day the exams ended, Lu Yudong finally finished her year-and-a-half long “cramming” session. However, she couldn’t relax; she had fallen behind in her academic subjects and had to prepare for the regular college entrance exam after the New Year.

Fortunately, when the art exam results came out in March, she actually passed! Her year and a half of hard work wasn’t in vain.

When the good news arrived, the two senior girls jumped and screamed on the playground. Those who knew realized they’d passed the art cut-off; those who didn’t might have thought the school had gained two little lunatics.

That Saturday, after getting permission from the adults, the two girls—who had just recently turned eighteen—had a few drinks on the house. Their tolerance wasn’t great, and they ended up feeling quite lightheaded.

That night, Zhang Ziyun’s mother happened to be at the bar celebrating with her. Seeing Ziyun was drunk, she took her home early, leaving only Lu Yudong slumped over a table by the stage, fast asleep.

After closing, Manzhu walked over to Yudong. Just as she reached out to help her up, Yudong’s arms hooked around her neck. The girl’s cheeks were flushed, and her right eye opened just a sliver.

“Time to go home and rest,” Manzhu said softly in her ear, using the same words she’d used for years.

“Mmh…” Yudong nodded. She opened her eyes and looked at Manzhu with a beaming smile, giving a little giggle. “Sister, I passed!” With the art exam done, as long as her academic scores hit the mark, her admission was guaranteed. The girl spent the whole night talking about it. “I’ll be going to university in the city. The school isn’t far; I can come home whenever I’m free.”

As she spoke, Lu Yudong leaned her entire weight into Manzhu’s embrace.

The tiny girl who used to have to jump just to sit on a barstool—the one whose legs used to dangle and swing—was now 162cm tall. Holding her was like holding a grown woman.

Manzhu looked at Yudong in her arms and asked softly, “Can you still walk? Or should I carry you?”

“I can walk,” Yudong giggled. “You can’t carry me anymore; I’m almost as tall as you!”

“I can carry you,” Manzhu said. “I could carry you even if you were an elephant.”

Yudong pouted and shook her head. “Still, no. I can walk by myself.” She backed out of Manzhu’s arms and wobbled toward the door.

Manzhu shook her head with a smile, stepped forward to steady her, and half-helped, half-carried her back home.

That night, Lu Yudong’s limbs were far from settled, unlike her usual well-behaved sleeping self. As soon as she got into bed, she threw a leg over Manzhu’s waist, hugged her tightly with both arms, buried her head in the cool crook of Manzhu’s neck, and nuzzled gently.

Her actions were like those of a little rogue, yet she did nothing more before falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Manzhu was momentarily stunned, but Yudong only slept more soundly. That warm breath kept hitting her collarbone, and the faint scent of alcohol tickled her nose, somewhat unsettling her heart. She hesitated for a long time but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to move an inch, fearing she would wake her.

If only…

If she could be a bit more selfish, she really wanted to keep Lu Yudong by her side forever, rather than silently watching her be glued to another girl all day.

But Lu Yudong seemed determined never to leave that Zhang Ziyun. Six years of middle and high school weren’t enough; she even had to go to the same university…

They had only passed the unified art exam. The actual entrance exam hadn’t happened, and the admission letter hadn’t arrived… Was it really something to be that happy about?

Perhaps, it really was.