Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 10
Chapter 10: Resentment
It was the weekend, and Shang Xiaoyue was practicing in her home music room.
She had played Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D major countless times, probably over a hundred. Her finger muscles had developed their own memory. She could play the melody perfectly, almost without thinking.
2, 2, 3, 4 (fingering)…accent…4, 3, 2…vibrato…3, 2, 2…light pressure… perfect! A flawless performance, not a single mistake.
Shang Xiaoyue breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at her father, who was sitting on the sofa.
Her father, usually stern and strict, listened intently, then after a moment of contemplation, simply let out a noncommittal "Hmm" in response to her expectant gaze. He stood up, brushed off his clothes, and turned to leave.
"Dad," Shang Xiaoyue called out. As her father turned to look at her, a wave of nervousness washed over her.
Her father, Shang Chengyuan, was the conductor of the provincial symphony orchestra, a renowned violinist, a strict music teacher, and an avid collector of antique violins.
To Shang Xiaoyue, her father was a towering figure. Her feelings for him had always been a mix of admiration, fear, and filial piety.
"Dad, this school selection competition is very important to me…" Shang Xiaoyue hesitated, gathering her courage. "I want to borrow the 'Queen' from your collection. The one you said I could only play when I grew up."
The type of violin she used in the competition wasn't really the issue. She had been feeling lost and uncertain about herself lately and hoped to gain some validation from her father.
Dad, am I worthy of using your precious collection now?
Under her father's scrutinizing gaze, she lowered her head, feeling a lack of confidence.
"I've told you many times, technique is just a basic skill for any musician. It's nothing to be proud of," her father said coldly.
He took the violin from her and played a passage from the Tchaikovsky concerto, the powerful melody filling the small music room.
"'Lyrical' doesn't just mean playing slowly. It's about conveying pure emotion through your music, moving your audience's hearts. 'Virtuosity' isn't just about playing fast. It's about expressing the soaring passion and exhilaration of the music."
He stopped playing abruptly and handed the violin back to his daughter, his words blunt. "Xiaoyue, music comes from the heart. What's missing in your music is that heartfelt emotion. You haven't found your own music yet. When you do, then you can ask to borrow the 'Queen'."
After her father left, Shang Xiaoyue stood there for a long time, lost in thought.
Her mother came upstairs and knocked gently on the door. "You've been practicing for hours. Take a break. Qiao Qiao called and invited you to go to South Lake."
"I don't want to go, Mom. I want to practice some more."
Her mother gently pushed her towards the door. "Don't listen to your father. You're already excellent, Xiaoyue. You should relax and go out with your friends on the weekend. Don't overwork yourself, my dear girl."
South Lake, located on the south side of Rongcheng, was a picturesque park with a beautiful lake.
The row of villas along the lakeshore had mostly been converted into bars and cafes. As night fell, the neon lights reflected on the lake's surface, creating a dazzling spectacle. It was a popular hangout spot for young people in Rongcheng.
With the crowds came a mix of people from all walks of life. At night, the streets around the lake came alive with street performers, vendors, and food stalls.
On the brightly lit main street, fashionable young people strolled hand-in-hand, chatting and laughing. In the dimly lit corners, young women working in the nightclubs, their faces heavily made up, ate their first meal of the day. Delivery workers, sweating profusely, carried boxes of drinks into the back entrances of bars. Homeless scavengers dragged sacks along the street, collecting empty beer bottles.
Qiao Xin, Shang Xiaoyue, and a few other girls from Rongyin's orchestral department, their hands full of snacks, weaved their way through the crowd.
"Xiaoyue, who's your accompanist for the selection competition?"
"Yan Peng, a senior from the piano department."
"Wow, you actually got him? He's probably the best in our school, besides Senior Ling Dong. With him as your accompanist, it's a sure win. We're all just competing for second place."
"Don't exaggerate. The accompanist's role is limited," Shang Xiaoyue said with a small smile. "Our families happen to know each other, so I asked him for a favor."
Saying this, she felt the tension she had been carrying finally ease. Even in this noisy environment, she heard a familiar violin melody.
"Look, someone's playing the violin over there."
"Banxia! Is that Banxia from our class?"
"Yes, it's her. What's she…doing here?"
They followed the sound and saw a young woman busking under a streetlight by the lake.
She wore a wool hat and black clothes, her long hair loose around her shoulders. She blended into the night.
The classical music she was playing didn't quite fit the lively atmosphere of the bar street. Most passersby hurried past, eager for the night's entertainment, paying her no mind.
Her open violin case contained only a few scattered bills. Her audience consisted of a homeless man huddled in a corner, lost in thought, and a couple of elderly people strolling by the lake after dinner.
"Why is she playing in a place like this? I would never be able to bring myself to do that," Qiao Xin said, looking at her classmate under the streetlight, unable to understand her actions.
To Qiao Xin, the violin was a noble and elegant instrument, meant to be played in grand concert halls, in elegant attire.
But the violinist under the streetlight seemed unconcerned, perfectly at ease amidst the bustling, mundane night market.
The neon lights played on her shoulders, illuminating half of her young face. She drew her bow across the strings, completely absorbed in her music.
The powerful melody flowed from her, spreading across the shimmering surface of the lake. The cold water seemed to gather a layer of colorful mist as the mysterious strains of "The Phantom of the Opera" echoed through the air, the dark figure of the Phantom lurking in the shadows, as if about to emerge from the mist and begin to sing.
Qiao Xin felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
She couldn't help but admit, inwardly, that Banxia was damn good.
"I heard Banxia is also participating in the selection competition. Yu Anguo gave her his recommendation," Qiao Xin said, glancing at Shang Xiaoyue.
Shang Xiaoyue's face darkened. She stared at Banxia, her lips pressed tightly together.
Qiao Xin thought she was overreacting and nudged her. "Don't think too much about it. She's playing a popular piece. 'Phantom of the Opera' doesn't require much technical skill. Anyone can play it well. It's not comparable to your Tchaikovsky concerto."
"So that's what Dad meant. She's found it. She's already found it," Shang Xiaoyue muttered, her voice trembling, before turning and walking away. "Sorry, I need to go back now."
"Wait, Xiaoyue! Why are you leaving so suddenly? Hey… Don't you geniuses always have to be so eccentric?"
Banxia's rented room was dark. A pale figure slowly rose in the shadows.
The man sat against the wall for a moment, a look of mild annoyance on his face as he picked up the folded bath towel from the floor and wrapped it around his waist. Then, he walked to the window, reached out, and retrieved his clothes from the neighbor's windowsill through the gap in the security bars.
The winter wind was chilly, a few wispy clouds drifted across the hazy moon.
A faint, warm yellow light flickered from the window of the small apartment next door. A pot simmered on the stove, the aroma of beef bone broth filling the air.
The young man, more beautiful than the moonlight, dressed in a fine white shirt and black trousers, yet wearing a incongruously pink apron, stood staring into the open refrigerator.
The refrigerator, unlike the previous days, was now full of discounted supermarket items.
He had only recently learned that supermarkets would bundle up unsold or slightly damaged items with red "buy one get one free" tape and sell them at half price in the evenings.
Though no one had mentioned it, he knew that because of his vet visit, someone had been living on steamed buns and dumplings for days.
In fact, for the past two days, there had been barely enough food in the apartment for a single breakfast. He had been forced to go outside, pick some Chinese toon buds, and make pancakes with the last of the flour and eggs, which had been their only meals for the day.
She needs to earn money. No money, no food.
The man's pale fingers tapped lightly on the refrigerator door.
I can't…keep relying on her forever.
He lowered his gaze, ladled a bowl of beef bone broth, and served himself a bowl of shrimp and radish rice. He carefully packed the rest in a thermos and placed it on the table. He sat down silently and ate his only meal of the day.
The table was against the wall, with only two places. One for him, and one empty.
Even sitting alone in the dark room, he felt like someone was sitting across from him.
In the same space, in a different time, she would sit there, excitedly sharing the day's events, genuinely praising his cooking, not caring that he was a monster.
As if they could live like this forever.
But I'm just a monster.
The steam from the hot broth misted his ash-grey eyes.
Downstairs, Ying Jie had finished bathing her daughter and put her to bed. She returned to the mahjong table, ready for her real nightlife.
"How's that new tenant?" the other players asked, still curious about the handsome young man who had appeared in the middle of the night.
"He's a good lad, very tidy. He even paid extra to have me change the lock to a keypad lock. I went in to take a look the day he changed the lock. His room is so neat and organized, puts us all to shame," Ying Jie gossiped about her new tenant as she shuffled the mahjong tiles. "He's never home during the day, though, and he gets so many packages delivered. I have to collect them all for him."
A light knock came from the door. The very tenant they were discussing stood there, his signature clothes immaculate, his pale fingers tapping lightly on the doorframe to signal he was there for his packages.
"Oh, Xiao Ling, when did you get back? I didn't see you come in," Ying Jie chuckled, covering her embarrassment as she stood up and pointed to his packages. The slender, refined young man was surprisingly strong. He quickly carried the large boxes up to his room in a few trips.
"What did you buy? They're so heavy," Ying Jie said, rolling up her pajama sleeves and helping him carry the remaining smaller boxes upstairs.
"A MIDI keyboard, studio monitors, headphones, a computer, a sound card… equipment for music production," the young man replied. Despite his aloof appearance, his voice was gentle and captivating. He was also thoughtful, opening the last box before leaving and placing a bag of snacks on the mahjong table.
As his handsome figure disappeared up the stairs, the women huddled together, whispering.
"He's so nice, so handsome, and so polite."
"Too bad my daughter is too young. If only she were a few years older…"
"What did he say he does? Music production? What's that?"
Banxia arrived home a little earlier than usual. The door to the neighboring apartment happened to be open as the new tenant was taking out the trash. They came face to face.
He was a tall young man, water droplets clinging to his damp hair, his pajama sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing pale forearms.
He seemed to have just showered, carrying with him the chill of the water, his eyes as still and cold as a winter night.
Seeing Banxia, he looked slightly startled, his dark eyes avoiding her gaze.
Meeting in the hallway in the middle of the night, Banxia felt a bit awkward. She gestured towards her door. "Hi, I'm your new neighbor. I live here."
The man nodded, then after a moment, replied, "Hello."
His voice, like his appearance, was like falling snow in winter—beautiful, but cold and distant.
He was clearly taking out the trash, but he just stood there in the doorway, his pale fingers gripping the black garbage bag tightly, neither putting it down nor going back inside, as if waiting for Banxia to enter her apartment first.
As she passed him, Banxia felt a strange sense of familiarity.
"Ah, I remember!" Banxia exclaimed, snapping her fingers. The man's dark eyes suddenly lit up, and he turned sharply to look at her.
"You're Ling Dong, Senior Ling Dong, from our school, right?" Banxia said excitedly. "I'm from Rongyin too! I saw you at the school concert last year!"
The famous senior stared at her for a long moment, his expression shifting, the initial flicker of excitement fading, replaced by a look of almost resentful disappointment. He gave her a reproachful glance, then turned and went back inside without a word.
Geniuses are different from us ordinary people. They're always a bit eccentric, Banxia thought, not taking offense, making excuses for her school's celebrity. He's probably just aloof and moody, like his name suggests.
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