Pei Xingyan hurried back to the dorm and, without giving any explanation, borrowed his roommate Fan Jian’s guitar.
This guy, most of the time, lived up to his name—Fan Jian.
He bought the guitar back then, dreaming that if he could fingerpick a tune, girls would be fighting to fall into his arms. Now, no matter where it sat, it annoyed him. Fan Jian had to rummage around the balcony for ages before he finally dug out the guitar, now covered in dust.
“I’m telling you, Lao Pei, it’s enough that you trick girls with your looks. Now you’re showing off your talents too—how’s anyone supposed to survive?” Fan Jian grumbled sourly, criticizing Pei Xingyan for being too much.
Pei Xingyan didn’t reply. His fingers swept across the strings with a flourish, and a set of melodious chords echoed through the dorm.
The cheap guitar’s sound was far from accurate. Anyone who knew music would feel their skin crawl, get goosebumps all over, and their blood pressure would shoot up—maybe they’d even cough up blood on the spot.
But that was exactly the effect he needed right now.
He lowered his head and tried playing a short segment.
The dorm fell completely silent, and Fan Jian’s complaints disappeared. Fan Jian changed his tune entirely, now leaning in front of Pei Xingyan with an awkward, fawning grin.
“Pei Bro, teach me a trick, will you?” He squeezed wrinkles into his face, looking downright sleazy. When Pei Xingyan didn’t respond, he kept upgrading Pei Xingyan’s title, “Pei Brother? Pei Godfather? Pei Grandpa? Please, I’m begging you, teach your brother! I’m already twenty-one and I’ve never even held a girl’s hand. I’m really begging you!”
Pei Xingyan really wanted to tell him that playing an instrument had nothing to do with dating, and honestly, if you played too well, you might just end up single for life. But Fan Jian had his own theories about love, and no amount of persuasion would change his mind.
Coincidentally, Pei Xingyan needed a helper right now, so he flicked his hair arrogantly and then, putting on a mysterious air, made his request, “Alright, here’s the deal. I’ll show you a trick first. You record a video, and then practice it yourself later.”
“Okay, okay, Pei Grandpa, you’re my real brother.” Fan Jian babbled nonsense, his sense of seniority less reliable than those kiddie rides outside the mall.
But he didn’t forget the main task and took out his phone to record Pei Xingyan.
“Why are you filming my face? Film my hands! You’re not planning to watch my video under the covers at night, are you?”
“Oh, oh, sorry…”
When Fan Jian bought the guitar, all he could think about was picking up girls, but he ended up choosing a classical guitar, which wasn’t suited for singing and playing at all.
So Pei Xingyan played a short segment of a classical piece—Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.” It was perfect for the classical guitar in his arms and also happened to be the piece Lin Xiaoyu had just been practicing.
“Try figuring it out yourself for a few days. Remember to send me the video.” After finishing, Pei Xingyan handed back the guitar and asked for the video file he desperately needed.
But Fan Jian, who had just been meek and humble, immediately put on another face, taking back all the words he’d swallowed earlier, “Okay, Pei Bro, got it, Pei Bro. I won’t get in the way of you posting your video and showing off, Pei Bro. I’ll even like your post on Moments, Pei Bro.”
Pei Xingyan smiled kindly, thinking to himself that when Fan Jian still had no clue how to play the piece in a few days, he’d have some fun with him.
He climbed into bed, pulled the curtain, and began his real psychological therapy work.
Fan Jian sent over the recorded video, and Pei Xingyan put on his headphones and listened quietly.
Just as he expected, after video compression, the already hoarse and unpleasant sound of the cheap guitar was now enough to make any music lover cringe. On top of that, he deliberately played a few wrong notes, leaving plenty of room for Lin Xiaoyu to complain.
He opened the [Sugar Heart APP], the one he didn’t dare let others see, and found his only contact.
The chat interface was simple, but it had all the necessary features—video and file transfer included. He couldn’t help but admire Tang Xin. She’d built this app all on her own, truly living up to her reputation as a computer science ace.
She’d even added a new feature: the app could now display the chat partner’s nickname. Tang Xin must have been working hard for her golden dreams again after going home.
That was a good thing. He had to work hard too.
Lin Xiaoyu had set her nickname as [Xiao Yudi].
“Xiao Yudi…heh…”
Such a slightly old-fashioned online name let him understand the girl a bit more.
He chuckled and started typing, his tone cautious:
[Um… thank you so much for comforting me, but I just remembered—you’re the one seeking service, right?]
[It’s not right for you to keep comforting me.]
[Let me play a song for you. I hope it’ll cheer you up a bit.]
He sent the video over.
Lin Xiaoyu didn’t reply right away—maybe she was practicing.
Instead, Tang Xin messaged him, reporting the APP’s upgrade like a real assistant, and mentioned she’d landed another client. Maybe there’d be new business in a few days.
Pei Xingyan marveled at how the desire for money could make people so diligent. He casually replied with a few words of praise, greatly satisfying Tang Xin’s vanity. Even through the screen, her pride was impossible to hide.
After the chat ended, Pei Xingyan’s bed curtain fell into silence again. He stared blankly upward, like a corpse.
*****
It wasn’t until much later that Lin Xiaoyu’s reply broke the silence.
Pei Xingyan unlocked his screen and was immediately greeted by a harsh review.
[Xiao Yudi: Awful music! Trash music! I feel like throwing up when I hear it! Don’t send me this kind of stuff, okay?!]
Maybe she’d been practicing this piece and got scolded harshly, or maybe she just couldn’t stand the intentional wrong notes Pei Xingyan played. Either way, it was clear—she really hated this song, even to the point of lashing out.
But this was exactly what Pei Xingyan wanted. He never expected to heal a girl hurt by music with music itself.
He typed out an even more pitiful reply:
[Sorry, sorry!]
[I know I didn’t play well, and I don’t have a good instrument.]
[But this was my parents’ favorite song for me to play when they were alive. Whenever they were tired, they’d ask me to play it. They always said I played well, so I thought everyone would be happy to hear it…]
[Anyway, I’m really sorry for ruining your mood!]
A wicked smile crept onto his face. Deceiving such a naive girl was hardly honorable.
Actually, his parents weren’t dead—though they might as well be. Maybe they’d never get out of prison for the rest of their lives, but at least he still had twelve chances a year to visit them, shuttling between the men’s and women’s prisons.
But the emotion he conveyed was real.
Before his parents went to prison, they did love hearing him play music—good or bad, it didn’t matter. Parents always love seeing their kids shine, and rich families even more so.
But families like Lin Xiaoyu’s, with such extreme demands on their children, usually had some hidden story…
His phone stayed silent, and Lin Xiaoyu seemed to have gone offline.
A long time passed before there was finally a response.
Lin Xiaoyu didn’t reply with words. She sent a voice message, broken and halting, as if she was about to cry.
“S-sorry… wu… I didn’t mean to say that to you, I’m really sorry… sorry… wu…”
Pei Xingyan knew he’d guessed right—this silly girl had taken the bait again.
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