Chapter Forty-Four: Miss Xia

After showering, Jiang Xuan rode her motorcycle with Zhao Zejun on the back, and in just over ten minutes, they arrived at the Golden Crown KTV.

The moment they stepped inside, they heard Yu Zhe on stage howling, “Brother, I sit at the head of the bed…” The private room was filled with raucous laughter from several classmates, all doubled over with amusement.

“Old Zhao, you’re finally here! You’re late, so you’ll have to drink as punishment!” The class monitor, Yang Tao, spotted Zhao Zejun, stood up, and came over holding two bottles of beer. He handed one to Zhao Zejun and one to Jiang Xuan, nodding at her with a smile. “Welcome.”

Jiang Xuan wasn’t particularly accustomed to dealing with proper high schoolers. She smiled politely but said nothing.

“Old Zhao, Xia Yubing brought a beautiful girl with her tonight—do you think she’s testing you on purpose?” Yang Tao nudged him with a wink.

“What are you gossiping about behind my back?”

The person in question had arrived. Xia Yubing was dressed with a mature flair tonight: a loose batwing sweater, skinny jeans, and even a pair of heels that weren’t too high, making her look every bit the woman in her twenties.

Beside her stood a petite, gentle-looking girl, someone Zhao Zejun would rate an 8 out of 10 in looks, but with a delicate air as if she’d just recovered from an illness.

“Let me introduce you. This is my best friend, Zhou Yuanyuan. We grew up together in the same residential compound. She’s studying acting at the Provincial Academy of Arts and is here in Yijiang City on a school field trip.”

At the sight of the girl, Zhao Zejun felt a flash of recognition. She looked just like the actress who would later play a significant role in a historical drama and gain some fame. Yes, it was definitely her—the same girl, though her name must have been changed for the stage later on, as she was originally from Jianwu, the capital of Sunan Province.

“Hello,” Zhou Yuanyuan greeted coolly, her gaze flitting swiftly between Zhao Zejun and Jiang Xuan, as if sizing them up.

“Hello, I’m Jiang Xuan, Zhao Zejun’s friend—a contractor,” Jiang Xuan introduced herself.

Zhou Yuanyuan pressed her lips into a smile. “Then Boss Jiang, you’ll have to look after us little extras.”

Zhao Zejun and Jiang Xuan exchanged a glance—another girl with hidden depths.

Once everyone was seated, the room exploded with singing again. Yang Tao, whose voice was low and husky, chose “Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies” by BEYOND, his vibrato so fierce it sent shivers down their spines.

As the newcomer, Zhou Yuanyuan was coaxed onto the stage and sang “If Clouds Knew” by Valen Hsu. Her voice, syrupy sweet and reminiscent of Yang Yuying, drew a wave of applause the moment she began.

“She doesn’t look heartbroken to me.” The room was lively as Zhao Zejun leaned in to say this into Xia Yubing’s ear.

“You don’t get it. The more upset a girl feels, the better she’ll dress!” Xia Yubing gulped down her drink, her cheeks flushed, looking especially charming.

When Zhou Yuanyuan finished her song, she stepped down amid cheers and proactively handed the microphone to Jiang Xuan.

Jiang Xuan was momentarily taken aback, then smiled and made her way to the song selection console.

Not long after, the big screen displayed Jiang Xuan’s choice: “The Man of the World” by George Lam.

The high school classmates chuckled—the MTV video was painfully dated, just like the song itself, old and out of fashion.

Unfazed, Jiang Xuan picked up the mic and launched into the song as if no one else were present.

“When weary, I sing into the wind;
Life and death, triumph and defeat, none of it matters.
Men of the world rarely boast;
They shed blood and sweat—who truly appreciates it?
Obstacles abound, yet they press on.
Who hasn’t stumbled in life?
How do you measure justice and evil?

A young heart rises like fire!”

The video was indeed dated, but Jiang Xuan’s powerful, resolute voice instantly stilled the room. When the song ended, Zhou Yuanyuan led the applause, carrying a beer over to sit beside Jiang Xuan, the two of them whispering together about something unknown.

Zhao Zejun was about to say something to Xia Yubing when she suddenly cheered, “Yay, my song is up next!”

It was “Cruel Tenderness,” written and composed by Zhao Chuan and covered by many male and female singers.

“You’re as gentle as always, holding my hand,
Taking me somewhere private to say you don’t love me anymore.
You’re as gentle as always, looking at me softly,
Slowly saying, it’s best we break up,
Slowly saying, you’re you, I’m me…”

Her voice was lovely, and she sang with feeling.

The room seemed to fall abruptly silent. Only Xia Yubing remained, sitting on a high stool under the spotlight, singing gently and quietly.

It was clear her mood wasn’t great. When she finished, no one cheered or applauded. Instead, someone quickly queued up a more cheerful song.

Zhao Zejun hesitated, then asked, “Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just a bit down. I’ll be fine after letting it out.” Xia Yubing reclined on the sofa, her head nearly coming to rest on Zhao Zejun’s shoulder, and said lazily, “It was my birthday yesterday. You still owe me a present.”

“What do you want?” Zhao Zejun asked.

A little tipsy, Xia Yubing replied, “Sing me a song. But you’re not allowed to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

“Alright!” Zhao Zejun agreed.

“And nothing else familiar,” Xia Yubing insisted stubbornly. “Sing me something I haven’t heard before. Otherwise, you’re not allowed to leave—keep singing until you sing something new!”

Zhao Zejun lowered his head and fell silent for a moment. “Alright.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Xia Yubing said.

After a brief pause, Zhao Zejun stood, walked to the screen, picked up the microphone, and pressed the mute button on the console.

The room instantly stilled.

In a gentle voice, Zhao Zejun announced, “Today is Xia Yubing’s first day as an eighteen-year-old. I wrote a song myself and hope Xia Yubing will have a peaceful, happy life.”

“Hey, boss, you can write songs too?” Yu Zhe, drunk, shouted out, but was silenced by a glare from Jiang Xuan.

Zhou Yuanyuan quietly moved back to sit beside Xia Yubing, who leaned against her, gazing at Zhao Zejun.

Everyone else looked on in curiosity. They’d never realized this quiet Zhao Zejun had so much talent. His tango had already shocked them; now he was composing a song on the spot?

Maybe he’d written it earlier. With the chemistry between him and Xia Yubing, perhaps he’d long prepared a song as her birthday gift.

Either way—improvised or prepared—it was an impressive display. The room fell silent, all ears on Zhao Zejun.

He cleared his throat, his voice still hoarse and weathered, his gaze locked only on Xia Yubing as he sang softly, almost like reciting poetry:

“Miss Xia, you’ve never forgotten your smile,
You’re beautiful when your lips turn down,
Like the clear water beneath Anhe Bridge,
Nights in the capital slip swiftly by.

Stranger, please give me a Lanzhou cigarette…

Miss Xia, I’m a complicated creature too,
Words pass my lips but keep repeating in my heart…

Miss Xia, you’re not just a girl without a story,
You fell for a wild horse, but my home holds no prairie…”

As that faintly weathered voice filled the room, a hush fell, classmates exchanging stunned, incredulous glances.

When the song ended, Xia Yubing suddenly covered her mouth and rushed out of the room.

“What happened?” Zhao Zejun quickly set down the microphone and asked Zhou Yuanyuan.

Anyone could tell Xia Yubing had left in tears, but Zhou Yuanyuan just smiled faintly, saying, “It’s nothing, she just drank too much and feels a bit queasy. Let’s keep going.”

For someone so understated, Zhou Yuanyuan’s words were anything but. There was an unmistakable double meaning, enough to make even the thick-skinned Zhao Zejun blush.

“I’m just kidding. That song was beautiful—did you really write it? Can I cover it someday?” Zhou Yuanyuan asked.

“Of course,” Zhao Zejun replied.

A few minutes later, Xia Yubing emerged from the Golden Crown’s restroom, her eyes rimmed with red.

Miss Xia, the capital’s night, no prairie… She was utterly convinced the song had been written for her by Zhao Zejun.

It was beautiful, moving, but also, the hint of helplessness in the lyrics left her nearly unable to bear it.

Lost in her swirling emotions, she didn’t notice and bumped straight into a man reeking of alcohol.

“Damn you, rushing off to sell yourself or what?”

He spat a curse at her. Xia Yubing had meant to apologize, but his words were so vile she ignored him, striding back toward the room.

The man wouldn’t let it go, following after her and hurling more abuse: “Little whore, dressed like that to sell yourself, huh? How much? Come over here and blow me…”

The private room wasn’t far from the restroom. Xia Yubing returned, face dark with fury.

Zhao Zejun saw her leave in tears and return angry, and asked, puzzled, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, just ran into a disgusting creep.”

The glass on the door was semi-transparent; they saw a shadow flicker past outside.

Zhao Zejun, already in a foul mood, scowled and grabbed a beer bottle, ready to head out.

“Don’t fight—it’s my birthday! He’s just drunk and spouting nonsense. Ignore him,” Xia Yubing quickly stopped Zhao Zejun, forcing a smile. “We’ve had enough fun. How about we go get something to eat?”

“Sure, I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

Meanwhile, around the corner in the KTV, the man who’d just collided with Xia Yubing was on the public phone, yelling into the receiver, “Hey, Erzi, it’s Ren Jifu. Get over to the Golden Crown fast—I’ve got someone I need taken care of!”