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Return To ShopA short emotional story – The MP3 you lent me that summer
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one
Lin Wantang first met Shen Yuzhou in the music classroom.
It was autumn of 2009. She had just started high school and was placed into the school’s vocal music specialty class by her homeroom teacher. She said she couldn’t sing, but her homeroom teacher said that if she couldn’t sing, she should learn, since she had a loud voice anyway.
She stood at the door of the music classroom and heard someone playing the piano inside. It wasn’t the kind of playing that followed the sheet music step by step; it was improvisational. The left hand laid the bass line, while the right hand played the melody, stopping and starting, as if thinking about where the next note should land.
She pushed open the door and saw a boy sitting in front of the piano. He was wearing a school uniform, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his back was very straight. Hearing the door open, he turned around and glanced at her.
” A freshman? “
” Um. “
” What voice part? “
” ah? “
He chuckled and pointed to his throat: ” Do you sing high notes or low notes? “
“ I don’t know, ” she said. “ I don’t know anything. ”
He stood up and walked up to her. He was almost a head taller than her, and when he looked down at her, his eyes were curved like two crescent moons.
” It’s okay, take your time learning, ” he said. ” My name is Shen Yuzhou, I’m a second-year high school student. “
” Lin Wantang. “
” Wantang. ” He repeated her name, as if savoring its meaning. ” It’s a beautiful name. “
That was the first time she felt her heart flutter.
It wasn’t the kind of dramatic, heart-pounding feeling described in novels . Rather, it was like someone throwing a pebble into a calm pond, the ripples spreading out in circles, very light, very slow, and never stopping.
two
They started practicing their voices together.
The music classroom was a detached bungalow at the far west end of the teaching building, surrounded by several sycamore trees. Every morning at 6:30, when she arrived, he was already there. He stood in front of the window, facing the wall, his hands clasped over his abdomen, making a ” mi – ma ” sound. His voice was deep, like a piece of wood sunk to the bottom of water, steady and reliable.
She stood beside him, mimicking his mannerisms, and made the ” Mi – ma ” sound as well. Her voice was thin, like a veil floating on top of it.
“ Don’t shout, ” he turned to look at her, “ Your breath should go through here. ” He pointed to his lower abdomen.
She tried it, but couldn’t get the hang of it.
” Put your hand here. ” He took her hand and placed it on his abdomen. Her hand flinched as it touched his clothes, but he pulled it back and pressed it down.
” Can you feel it? “
His abdomen rose and fell slightly with his breathing, like an animal breathing slowly.
“ I felt it, ” she said.
“ Your turn. ” He placed her hand back on her own abdomen. “ Inhale, slowly, yes, that’s the feeling. ”
He looked at her with nothing superfluous in his eyes, like a teacher instructing a student.
She took a breath and began to sing.
“ Much better, ” he said.
She lowered her head, her ears turning slightly red.
three
They walked home from school together.
The vocal training class had extra practice sessions until 6 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday. At 6 p.m. in winter, it was already completely dark. The lights at the school gate were those old-fashioned incandescent bulbs, emitting a dim yellow light that shone on the ground like a puddle of melted honey.
” How are you going to get back? ” he asked.
” walk. “
” Is it far? “
” Forty minutes. “
” I’ll give you a ride. “
” Need not ……”
” Let’s go. ” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked away without looking back.
She jogged a few steps to catch up.
In the small town in winter, the streets were deserted. The plane trees on both sides of the road had lost all their leaves, their bare branches stretching towards the sky like an unfinished sketch. They walked side by side, their shoulders about a fist’s width apart.
“ When you sing, ” he suddenly said, “ you’re always so nervous. Your throat is tense, and your body is tense. ”
” I know. “
” Relax. Singing isn’t a battle; you don’t need to be so tense. “
” And what about you? ” she asked. ” What do you do when you’re nervous? “
He thought for a moment: ” When I’m nervous, I think about the future. “
” What’s up? “
” About going to Beijing in the future, ” he said casually, as if he were talking about what he ate in the cafeteria that day. ” I’m going to Beijing in the future. “
She turned her head to look at him. The light from the streetlamp fell on his face, half bright and half dim, and his eyes were fixed straight ahead, bright.
” What are you going to Beijing for? “
“ Singing, ” he said. “ Making music. ”
She had never thought that far ahead. In her life, the most immediate thing was tomorrow’s math exam, and a little further ahead was the college entrance exam. Beijing was too far away, as far as another planet.
But he’s different. He seems to have known what he wanted from the very beginning.
Four
He started taking her out to eat.
It doesn’t mean ” Let’s go eat together, ” it means ” Are you hungry? Let’s eat something before we go back . “
A bowl of Lanzhou noodles costs six yuan at the school gate. He ordered for her, and when the noodles were served, he handed her his own chopsticks.
” You have chopsticks. “
“ Those are dirty. ” He pointed to the pair in front of her, which had a black stain on them. “ Use mine. ”
She took his chopsticks, her fingers touching the spot where he had just held them, where they were still slightly warm.
The noodles were very hot, and she ate very slowly. After he finished eating, he sat opposite her and watched her without urging her.
” Don’t you like noodles? ” he asked.
” No, it’s just too hot. “
” Then blow on it. “
She lowered her head to blow on her face, and her hair slipped down, obscuring half of her face. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.
She stopped moving.
“ Don’t move, ” he said. “ Eat your food. ”
He withdrew his hand from her ear, as if nothing had happened, and picked up a tissue from the table to wipe his mouth.
She lowered her head and continued eating her noodles, her ears burning as if they were on fire.
five
During the coldest days of winter, he walked her all the way to her doorstep.
The road was long, and it led to a bridge over a dry riverbed overgrown with withered grass. The wind blew up from the riverbed, as cold as a knife.
” Are you very cold? ” he asked.
” fine. “
” Liar. ” He chuckled, took off his scarf, and wrapped it around her neck. The scarf smelled of him, the scent of laundry detergent, and a hint of sweat.
Aren’t you cold ?
“ I’m not afraid of the cold, ” he said, shrinking his neck.
She couldn’t help but laugh when she saw him shrinking back.
” What are you laughing at? “
” You said you weren’t afraid of the cold. “
“ I’m not afraid. ” He put his hands in his pockets, “ but my neck is. ”
She laughed even harder, her laughter echoing through the empty street and carried away by the wind.
When they arrived at her building, she stopped, took off her scarf, and returned it to him.
” I’ll return it to you tomorrow. “
” You don’t need to pay it back. “
” That won’t do. “
“ Then I’ll return it the day after tomorrow. ” He took the scarf, put it back on, and said, “ Go upstairs. I’ll leave as soon as the lights come on. ”
She went upstairs, opened the door, changed her shoes, and walked to the window to look down. He was still standing downstairs, looking up, and when he saw her window light up, he waved to her, turned around, and left.
The streetlights stretched his shadow long, very long, all the way to the street corner, where it turned and disappeared.
six
In the summer of his second year of high school, he was going to Beijing.
It wasn’t a vacation; it was a music training program. It lasted for two whole months, all summer.
A week before he left, he accompanied her home as usual. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he took something out of his bag and handed it to her.
” for you. “
She took it; it was an MP3 player . It was silver-white, small, and had a scratch on the screen.
” You can listen to it, ” he said. ” Listen to the music while I’m gone, and stop thinking about all that nonsense. “
” Who misses you? ” she blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
He smiled but didn’t reply.
” What songs are in it? ” she asked.
” It’s all nonsense, listen to it yourself. “
She clutched the small MP3 player , her fingers tracing the scratch on the screen.
When are you leaving ?
” Next Monday. “
” When are you coming back? “
” The end of August. ” He glanced at her. ” Study hard, and I’ll treat you to something delicious when I get back. “
” What’s good to eat? “
” Eat whatever you want. “
” Then I want hot pot. “
” Okay, hot pot. “
She stood there, suddenly feeling something stuck in her throat; she wanted to speak, but didn’t know what to say.
“ Go on up, ” he said.
” Um. “
She went upstairs, this time without looking out the window. She stood behind the door, listening to her own heartbeat, heavy and rhythmic.
seven
After he left, she started listening to that MP3 .
It contained a lot of songs. Songs by Eason Chan, Jay Chou, Wang Leehom, and some English songs that she couldn’t understand. But the songs she had the most of were by Christine Fan.
She had no idea when he had saved these songs. He usually listened to rock music, so why did he have so many Christine Fan songs saved?
She listened to each song one by one.
“The First Dream,” “One Like Summer, One Like Autumn,” “Can I Not Be Brave?”, “True or False” …
Christine Fan’s voice is very clean; it’s not the kind of singing that’s overly forceful, but rather gentle, like she’s talking to you.
Her favorite song is “One Like Summer, One Like Autumn.” One line in the lyrics goes: ” I didn’t like you much when we first met, who knew we’d become so close later. “
She recalled the first time she saw him. She was standing at the door of the music room when he sat down at the piano and turned around. She didn’t dislike him at first sight; she felt a spark from the very first glance—
Never mind. She pressed play and pushed the earphones in even tighter.
eight
That MP3 player never left her side all summer .
She listened to it while doing homework, while walking, and before going to bed. Once, during a school sports meet, she was selected to run the 800 meters. Standing on the starting line, she clutched her MP3 player in her hand, threading the earphone cord through her sleeve and into her ears.
When the starting gun fired, she rushed out. The song “The First Dream” was playing in her headphones.
” If pride hadn’t been coldly slapped down by the sea of reality, how would we know how much effort it takes to reach the distance? “
She was panting heavily, but she didn’t stop. She clutched the small MP3 player , her palms sweaty, the scratch on the screen digging into her hand and hurting a little.
She finished third in her group, not very good, but not very bad either. As she crossed the finish line, she was bent over, panting, her hands on her knees, her earphones still in her ears.
The next song has started.
It’s Christine Fan’s “Can’t Reach”.
” I can’t find it, I can’t reach it, the beautiful future you speak of. “
She straightened up and breathed heavily. On the playground, some people were cheering, some were laughing, and some were drinking water. She stood in the middle of the crowd, with only that song in her ears.
She missed him.
She had never thought about anyone so clearly and intensely before.
Nine
He returned at the end of August.
They arranged to meet at the school gate. He was a bit tanned, his hair was longer, and he looked thinner. But his eyes were still the same—bright and curved.
” Did you miss me? ” he asked, his tone almost joking.
“ Who misses you? ” she said.
” Give me back my MP3 player . “
” No. “
He smiled: ” Keep it if you like. “
They went out for hot pot. He cooked meat for her, piling it up in her bowl like a small mountain.
” How’s Beijing? ” she asked.
“ It was fantastic. ” His eyes lit up. “ I went to so many places and met so many amazing people. You know, the musicians over there are completely different from those here. They each have their own ideas and know what they want. ”
He was radiant when he spoke.
She looked at him and suddenly understood something.
She couldn’t keep up with him on his way to the places he was going.
It’s not that she wasn’t good enough; it’s that their paths were different from the very beginning.
ten
He’s about to graduate.
One day during the second semester of her senior year of high school, she ran out and bought a fountain pen. It was a Hero brand, with a black barrel and a gold clip, and it came in a small, transparent box. She had saved up her allowance for a long time—forty-six yuan.
She stood at the door of their classroom and waited for a while before he came out.
” Here you go. ” She shoved the box into his hand.
He opened it, glanced at it, looked up, and looked at her.
Why did you give me a fountain pen ?
” Have you graduated yet? “
” A fountain pen as a graduation gift? “
” So what do you want? “
He smiled, put the box in his pocket, and said, ” Thank you. “
That night, she received a text message. It was very long, and she had to flip through several pages to finish reading it.
” Wantang, thank you for the pen. I’ll use it carefully. You should also study hard and live well. You’re a wonderful girl—kind, earnest, and hardworking. Have confidence in yourself and don’t always feel inadequate. The future holds many possibilities; be brave and pursue what you want. No matter where we are in the future, I hope you’re happy and fulfilled. You deserve to be treated well; remember that. Keep going. “
She watched it three times.
The first time, tears fell.
I laughed the second time.
The third time, she turned off her phone screen and placed it next to her pillow.
She never deleted that text message.
eleven
The last time they saw each other was during the summer after he graduated from high school.
She picked up the package for him. It was a thin brown paper envelope containing a few sheets of paper. Her heart pounded as she held it in her hand, as if it were her own acceptance letter.
She waited for him at the school gate. He rode up on his bicycle, wearing a white T- shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. His hair was longer than the last time they met, and it was a messy sight in the wind.
She handed him the envelope.
He opened it, glanced at it, and then pulled out the paper.
Xiamen University Tan Kah Kee College. Admission Notice.
” You passed the exam! ” she exclaimed before he could.
He smiled, then stuffed the acceptance letter back into his hand: ” I’m not going. “
” Why? “
“ I don’t like studying traditional Chinese music, ” he said . “ I want to go to Beijing. ”
” Where in Beijing? “
” Beijing Contemporary Music Academy. “
She was taken aback. It wasn’t a prestigious university; she’d never even heard of it.
Are you sure ?
“ I’m sure. ” He looked into her eyes. “ I want to make music, not study traditional Chinese music. ”
She didn’t say anything.
He treated her to a meal. It was the same Lanzhou noodles near the school gate, and it still cost six yuan a bowl. When the noodles were served, he handed her the chopsticks; this time, they were clean.
After they finished eating, they stood at the entrance of the noodle shop. It was getting dark, and the streetlights came on—the old-fashioned incandescent bulbs, casting a dim, yellowish glow.
“ I’m leaving, ” he said.
” Um. “
He looked at her, remained silent for a moment, then opened his arms and hugged her.
It wasn’t the kind of hug between lovers. It was the kind of hug a brother would give his sister—gentle, polite, with a little distance. He patted her back, as if to say, ” Okay, okay . “
She could smell him. It was still the scent of laundry detergent, with a hint of sweat, exactly the same as two years ago.
He released his grip and took a step back.
” Live well, ” he said.
” The same to you. “
He smiled, turned and walked away. After a few steps, he turned back and waved to her.
She waved back.
Then he turned the corner and disappeared.
She stood there, for a long time. The streetlights stretched her shadow long, very long, all the way to the street corner, where it turned and followed him.
twelve
She only heard about what happened afterward.
He went to Beijing, studied music, formed a band, and wrote songs. I heard that his songs were heard, performed at music festivals, and he released an album. He really embarked on that path, the path he had always known he wanted to take.
They never saw each other again.
She would occasionally see his posts on WeChat Moments: he’d released a new song, he’d performed somewhere, he’d collaborated with someone. She’d give it a like, occasionally leave a comment, and he’d reply with a smiley face.
That’s all.
That MP3 player hadn’t been used for a long time; the scratch on the screen was still there, the casing was worn white, and the battery wouldn’t charge. She put it in a drawer, along with that text message, that old phone, and those summers that could never be returned to.
She still listens to Christine Fan’s songs sometimes. Christine Fan later married Blackie Chen, had twins, appeared on variety shows, and wrote fewer songs. But those old songs are still there, in music apps, in those playlists that have been repeatedly played.
Every time she hears “One Like Summer, One Like Autumn,” she thinks of that winter, that very long road, that bridge, those withered grasses, and the person who took off his scarf for her.
” You know, even if the rain turns the whole city upside down, I’ll still give you a hug. “
What he gave her wasn’t an embrace. It was a road, a bowl of noodles, an MP3 player , and a text message.
They were the things that warmed her during the coldest winter.
end
Many years later, Lin Wantang sat on her balcony, basking in the sun, flipping through an old book. Tucked inside was a piece of paper, torn from a magazine many years ago, with the lyrics of a song printed on it.
She didn’t remember when she tore it off, nor did she remember why she had it tucked inside the book.
She unfolded the paper and glanced at it.
” Hold tight to your initial dream. How can you turn back halfway to the place you most want to go? “
She smiled.
A gust of wind blew in through the window, knocking the paper to the floor. She bent down, picked it up, folded it neatly, and put it back in the book.
That old cell phone in the drawer probably hasn’t been turned on in ages.
But she still remembered that text message.
I remember every single word.
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