Uncertain age difference

94.

I don't know if it's because they finally got used to staying up late, or because the two of them took a nap with their heads next to each other on the way home, and when they really got home, they were a little sober.

As usual, he didn't have dinner, so Lu Chen went to order some noodles, while Ning Huang was still holding the guitar, looking left and right.

Lu Chen put the noodles on the pot and asked, "Is the guitar broken?"

The little hedgehog has been looking at the guitar all day, so it must have broken a little.

Ning Huang was really a little frustrated, and handed him the guitar to look at the edge: "It's a scratch, it doesn't affect the tone."

This is the one that Lu Chen bought with him on the street.

The ingredients were almost used up in the past few days, and there were some homemade spicy meatballs and beef rolls left. Lu Chen threw them into the pot together and said, "Shall I buy a new one tomorrow? Or find someone to repair it?"

Ning shook his head and said, "Such bumps and bumps are inevitable."

"It's the same with the pianos of those masters. After a long time of use, there are many marks."

These traces are like stories. The longer the piano is used, the more precious it is, and the more stories it has.

It's just that this imprint was made by Cheng Xinran, and she was very unhappy to see it.

The noodles were familiar quickly, Lu Chen brought them to the terrace, and the two of them ate a pot of hot noodles facing each other.

It was already late at night, and there were not many lights left on the terrace, only the street lights in the distance were still on. Ning Huang subconsciously wanted to pluck the strings, but was held down by Lu Chen.

Lu Chen said with a smile: "This point will be reported to disturb the people."

indeed.

Ning Huang stopped her hand resentfully.

He propped his chin up and said that he wanted to drink some beer.

——It does exist.

Lu Chen came over with two soda cans and said, just drink a little, it's a good time, and sleep after drinking.

Ning Huang let out a "huh", opened the can, and the refreshing foam overflowed. He took a sip, then raised it up again, motioning for Lu Chen to touch him.

From what I did to what I drank today.

It's all so fun.

Lu Chen also took a sip and said, what was he thinking today, and suddenly ran to the stage.

Ning Huang, who looked like Ning Huang, was leaning against the railing of the balcony.

"Because I suddenly remembered it," he said.

"Ok?"

"The memory before you changed back that day has not disappeared. Remember that he bullied you."

"And..." Ning Huang hesitated, not knowing whether to say it or not.

"What else?" Lu Chen asked.

And the time after his song was taken away.

When he was singing on stage.

Just remembered all these.

95

He sent Cheng Xinran away, and heard his own song through the TV.

That year, Cheng Xinran was full of scenery, but he was still wandering around in the back alleys of one bar after another after night fell, curling up his long legs, and eating the box lunch he hated with his head down.

Someone hummed his song in the wind, but said, Cheng Xinran is a genius.

It sounds harsh and irritating.

He had a bad time, because of poverty, but not only because of poverty.

He used to think that if he had money and looked respectable, maybe someone would believe him that he wrote that song, or at least question him and argue about it.

The first time he got into a fight with someone and entered the police station was because someone in the audience ordered his song, but Cheng Xinran's name was said.

Drunkenly said, you sing a song, Cheng Xinran is so exquisite.

At that time, he was still with a hedgehog head, thin, and dressed in pitch black, but he was silent a lot.

He put down his guitar and said, "I can't sing."

The man was so drunk that he couldn't tell the difference between east, west and north, and shouted: "What kind of stuff, you can't even imitate, and you still come out to sing."

"It's the song that is popular in Half the Sky, Cheng Xinran's song—"

He silently picked up his guitar.

The man was also drunk, pulled his wrist, stuck out his tongue, and said, "I'll teach you, you learn, hello, imitate well, savor carefully."

He threw the man to the ground.

After a while, the voice was low and hoarse, and said: "Imitate your uncle."

"This fucking was written by Lao Tzu."

The man didn't even bother to listen, and couldn't tell the difference. He just shook his fist and said, yes, yes, you wrote it, and you wrote it to your uncle.

That's how it started.

Into the police station.

The policeman asked him why he fought, but he couldn't say anything, and he said for a while that he was in a bad mood.

—The police educated him for a long time.

After leaving the police station, he clutched the draft and read it again and again in the back alley of Bar Street.

It's not that I haven't contacted the media.

It's not that I haven't tried to tell the truth.

It's just that everything was swallowed up like a mud cow into the sea, and there was no sound.

"I wrote this song."

He frowned and murmured softly.

96

Later, the musician he liked set up a music studio, and he took the train for a day and a night to apply for the job.

Cities are strange, and hope is strange.

But the disappointment is the same.

He played a song.

The musician asked him to play it twice, but finally said to him earnestly:

"You are very talented, but don't narrow the road. It is enough to have Cheng Xinran in the music world."

"His style is too unique. If you imitate him, you can tell at a glance. No matter how well you do it, it is just a copy."

imitate.

It's that word again.

He couldn't help but tell the truth.

It was the first time he spoke so eagerly and clumsily, as if no one had listened to him for a long time, and the last sentence was still on the tip of his tongue, and the next sentence was about to be spit out in a hurry.

The musician was silent for a long time, looking at his clothes and his eager expression.

In the end, he shook his head and said, "I see Xinran in the process."

"We have worked together, and there is no grudge between us."

"Don't say that again."

"You... will only make yourself suffer."

He gritted his teeth and remained silent for a long time, then bowed and said, "Thank you teacher."

His truth has never been heard again.

He stumbled and explored for a long time. He learned to write songs again, starting from music theory, thinking from the saliva songs that spread all over the streets and alleys. It took him two full years to change to a completely different style.

It can not only be accepted by the market, but also accepted by oneself.

In the middle, he signed a record company and wrote countless failed works in exploration.

Some people say he is grandstanding, some people say he is mediocre.

He also no longer sings about his own emotional stories.

Finally, there is the music that belongs to Ning Huang, the music of the cold and weird narrator who seems to be watching with cold eyes.

And the distance from the first song is so exquisite that no one can speak.

It has been a long time.

He did come out step by step.

But it is true that he no longer has any expectations, expecting others to believe him.

97

These memories are so real.

Close your eyes, vividly.

Even Ning Huang, who was with him, was not as flamboyant as when he first met.

It seems that during the time of that song, I grew up a little.

Lu Chen was silent for a long time: "You never told me."

"Maybe it's because I'm afraid of losing face." Ning Huang said.

He could imagine that when he was in his twenties or thirties, he would be like a peacock spreading his tail, wishing to show his most beautiful and radiant side to the people in front of him.

Beautiful appearance, pleasant singing voice, ability to solve problems easily, and easy-going demeanor.

But those dusty past.

To hide behind the tail.

He looked down at the scars on his guitar, frowned and muttered.

"Actually, I don't want to tell you either."

"However, it seems that my self-control is very poor."

Holding hands, touching the head, you can't help being happy.When you eat something delicious, you will relax your vigilance.

When you are wronged, you want to be comforted.

When you are bullied, you want to speak up.

"Just pretend you didn't listen..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was suddenly hugged.

After a long while, he said, "Who allows you to hug me?"

Lu Chen called him his little uncle in a muffled voice.

Wrap him in your own shadow.

"Lu Chen, what is your drinking capacity? You won't get drunk as soon as you hear the wine, right?"

"I must be afraid of you like this, so I didn't tell you. Why do I feel that you want to take the opportunity to eat tofu, you old rascal..."

Ning Huang cursed.

The voice gradually became smaller.

After a while, he calmed down, and whispered, "Actually, it's all just memories, and you and Xia Ziyu are helping me."

He wrote even better works that were regarded as treasures back then.

Those who were lost back then have something more worthwhile.

"And..." Ning Huang said, "I saw you back then."

The moment he finished singing, he remembered everything.

Looking down the stage, he met Lu Chen's eyes.

Weird, in that split second.

I can't feel sad anymore.