Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 12
Chapter 12: Red Lotus
Banxia ended up finding an accompanist on the school forum.
Piano students were always in high demand at the music academy. Banxia wasn't picky; she only required that they had played Zigeunerweisen before. A second-year student named Wei Zhiming responded to her post.
They agreed to meet downstairs from the practice rooms.
From a distance, Wei Zhiming spotted the female student waiting in the shade of a tree.
She had her violin case slung over her shoulder, her long black hair tied back, her face clean and free of makeup, her features delicate. Her long legs were casually draped over the edge of a flowerbed, one hand holding the sheet music, the other miming fingerings in the air, seemingly oblivious to his approach.
A violin student, a top student with a professor's recommendation… Wei Zhiming had arrived with certain expectations.
Seeing her in person, the serene and gentle violinist bathed in the warm winter sun, his heart quickened.
Wei Zhiming smoothed his hair, twirled the flashy ring on his finger, and, exuding confidence, approached the seemingly innocent young woman.
The girl noticed him, smiled, and stood up, her clear eyes meeting his.
Her gaze was direct and unwavering, yet beneath it lay a calm and confident demeanor.
She extended her hand, shook his lightly, and introduced herself. Then, she handed him the sheet music and launched into a professional discussion of the piece.
She was even more composed and at ease than he was. There was none of the shyness or nervousness he had expected from a girl meeting a boy like him.
The spark of interest in Wei Zhiming's heart flickered and died.
Coming from a wealthy family, he had struggled with academics in middle school. Fortunately, he had some musical talent, having been forced to learn piano by his mother since childhood. His family had spared no expense to get him into the music academy.
Now in university, he felt he had suffered enough and deserved to enjoy life. He spent his days playing video games, flirting with girls, and coasting through his classes.
He had met his fair share of girls. Some were lively and cheerful, some gentle and sweet, some a little prickly. But no matter their personality, he could always sense a certain admiration in their eyes when they looked at him.
Whether they were gentle, shy, or demure, they were all, ultimately, just admirers.
Therefore, even though he was still a financially dependent "rich second generation," he naturally assumed a position of superiority when interacting with women.
It made him feel comfortable, confident, and in control.
But girls like Banxia, gentle on the surface but with an underlying confidence and self-assurance, were the type he instinctively avoided.
He wasn't interested in interacting with women who saw him as an equal, or worse, looked down on him.
Banxia was explaining her interpretation of the music to her accompanist when she noticed his lack of enthusiasm. She looked up, puzzled, at the classmate who had initially seemed so eager.
For some reason, Banxia had always found it easier to connect with girls. She wasn't very good at interacting with boys.
It wasn't that she didn't have any male friends. But whenever she excitedly shared her understanding of music or a new technique, the boys who had initially seemed interested would quickly lose their enthusiasm.
Perhaps kindred spirits were rare and precious in this world.
Perhaps it had nothing to do with gender. It just so happened that the people who appreciated her music were all girls.
Banxia rationalized it to herself.
"So, shall we try playing through it once?"
As the strains of Zigeunerweisen filled the practice room, Banxia put aside her thoughts and lost herself in the music.
That evening, in the piano department's dormitory, Wei Zhiming's roommate asked, "So, how was the girl from the orchestral department?"
Wei Zhiming, sprawled lifelessly on his bed, made a face. "It was okay at first, but three bars in, she just went off-script." He sat up, a look of exasperation on his face. "I was like, 'What the hell?' and tried to keep up, but I couldn't match her crazy tempo. By the end, it was a disaster."
His roommate burst out laughing. "I asked you what she looked like, not how she played."
"What she looked like?" Wei Zhiming was taken aback.
It was probably the first time since he had become an adult that he had interacted with a girl and forgotten to pay attention to her appearance.
Initially, he hadn't liked Banxia. She seemed plain and unassuming, yet she possessed a worldly wisdom that he found off-putting. He had planned to just go through the motions a couple of times and then make an excuse to leave.
But when she started playing, he had been completely captivated.
The sound of her violin was incredibly expressive, passionate yet vulnerable, gentle yet tinged with a subtle pain. She brought the image of the wandering gypsy to life.
Her musicality was far superior to his own. It was like being looked down upon from a mountain peak, overwhelmed by a force beyond his comprehension. He couldn't help but be impressed.
Watching her play, he had forgotten about her gender, her appearance, hearing only the powerful, mesmerizing music.
If he had to describe her in one word, the word that came to Wei Zhiming's mind was "goddess."
A goddess yet to be discovered.
And yet, this god-like violinist wasn't satisfied with her own performance. She insisted on playing through the piece again and again with him.
"No, it's not quite right. I haven't captured the feeling of the wanderer yet," the girl, his own age, murmured, frowning at the sheet music. "Eight thousand yuan… I have to win this."
Though he didn't understand what the "eight thousand" signified, Wei Zhiming felt a sense of awe. She must be talking about some higher realm of musical understanding that he couldn't grasp.
"Perhaps… I should practice more," Wei Zhiming looked at his ring-adorned fingers. "If I practice more, maybe I'm not so bad. At least I can be worthy of playing with her."
In another practice room, Yan Peng, a fourth-year piano student, stopped playing.
Shang Xiaoyue, playing the violin, didn't stop. Her music was frantic, her expression almost obsessive.
"Xiaoyue, you're overdoing it," Yan Peng tapped the piano keys, interrupting her frantic playing. "What's wrong with you? It's just a school selection round."
Shang Xiaoyue stopped playing, staring at her fingers. One of her fingernails was split and bleeding, but she hadn't even noticed.
"The Collegiate Cup… I remember you participated when you were in the affiliated middle school. You did quite well, didn't you?" Yan Peng got up from the piano bench and placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the girl he had known since childhood. "Is something bothering you?"
Shang Xiaoyue rubbed her fingers, her head down. "I met someone… someone I can't beat."
Yan Peng almost laughed, suppressing a smile. "Who is this formidable person who has our Xiaoyue so scared?"
Shang Xiaoyue continued to stare at her violin, silent.
Yan Peng rarely saw her like this.
When they were children, everyone called her "Moon." She was always the most beautiful, always dressed in expensive clothes, always holding her head high with pride.
His usual playful tone softened with sincerity. "Xiaoyue, many people envy us, but I think it's not always a good thing. Having things too easy when you're young isn't necessarily a blessing. It's good to meet someone who challenges you, someone you want to surpass. Look at it that way."
Shang Xiaoyue looked up at him. "What about you? Would you feel the same way? Senior Ling Dong… have you ever thought about surpassing him?"
The smile vanished from Yan Peng's face. After a moment, he relaxed, sat back down on the piano bench, and touched the keys. "Ling Dong? His technique is flawless, yes. But besides technique, he has nothing else. I will surpass him one day."
"But… I don't think I can beat Banxia," Shang Xiaoyue said, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "She doesn't even pay attention in class, copies her homework, and never practices at night. But her playing… you'll understand if you hear her play. Her music has something…something I've always strived for but could never achieve."
Finally, she murmured, "Perhaps… some people are just born with talent. They can achieve anything effortlessly, without even trying."
The "effortlessly talented" person Shang Xiaoyue spoke of was sitting on the steps behind Bluegrass Cafe, practicing before her shift started.
This was Bar Street, where Banxia worked part-time two nights a week. The street was lined with brightly lit cafes and bars.
Next to Bluegrass Cafe was a bar called Red Face. The back doors of the two establishments, with their metal ramps and stairs for deliveries, faced each other across a narrow alleyway where the garbage bins were kept.
At this hour, the bars were still empty. Two barmaids and a middle-aged man, the bar's resident singer, were smoking and chatting on the steps.
Banxia played through her piece a few times, still not satisfied. She stopped.
One of the barmaids, her face heavily made up, called out across the alleyway, "What song is that? I've never heard it before."
"Zigeunerweisen. What do you think? Is it good?"
"I don't understand this kind of music. Do the customers at your place like this kind of music? Why don't you play something more popular?" the barmaid asked with a smile. Despite her heavy makeup, she looked much younger than Banxia.
"This isn't for the cafe. It's for a school competition," Banxia explained.
"You're still a student? How much do you earn playing at Bluegrass?"
Banxia held up two fingers. "200 yuan. Sometimes I get tips."
"That's so little," the barmaid scoffed. "You should come work at Red Face. You can make much more than that just opening a few bottles of wine."
Banxia chuckled and shook her head. "Money is nice, but I really love playing the violin. I don't think I'd like selling drinks."
She hadn't meant anything by it, but the barmaid took it as a slight against her profession. Her smile faded.
She tapped the metal stairs and called out to the man sitting at the bottom, "What do you think, Old He? Does she play well?"
Old He, the resident singer at Red Face, was older, and his music wasn't very popular these days. He had just been scolded by the owner and was in a foul mood. "Not really," he grumbled.
Banxia, unfazed, asked earnestly, "What's wrong with it?"
Surprised that she would ask, the man took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Look, little girl, what do you know about being a wanderer at your age? You're just playing pretend," he said, his cigarette pointing in her direction. "Don't play this kind of music. Play some love songs or something."
"Then tell me, what is a wanderer?" Banxia remained calm and polite, her gentle demeanor disarming even the most irritable people.
"Fine, I'll tell you what a wanderer is," the middle-aged man took a deep drag of his cigarette and blew out a smoke ring. "When I was young, I loved music. I wrote songs, I arranged music."
"For that dream, I left home and went to the capital. I lived with a few buddies in a tiny studio, pouring all my youth and passion into it. Back then, I didn't feel like a wanderer."
The dim streetlight illuminated the glowing tip of his cigarette. "Later, I had no choice. I couldn't even feed myself. So I crawled back to Rongcheng, defeated, using whatever talent I had left to sing, to write songs for others, just to scrape by."
"I remember the day I left the capital. It was raining heavily. My friends came to see me off at the train station. I couldn't even bear to look back at them."
"Now, I have food to eat, money to spend," he tapped his chest with his cigarette hand. "But here," he gestured to his heart, "I'm still wandering. I am a wanderer."
The glowing cigarette tip dimmed, and he fell silent.
Banxia remained quiet, lost in thought, plucking at her violin strings.
On the bustling, chaotic Bar Street, the violinist, immersed in her music, drew inspiration from the mundane, refining her interpretation of the piece.
Far away, in a rented room, a pot simmered on the stove, the aroma of broth filling the air.
Next door, in another rented room, a young man sat in front of a glowing computer screen, filling out a registration form on a music website. He stared at the blinking cursor in the "AKA" field for a long time. Finally, his long, pale fingers moved, typing in a two-word stage name: Red Lotus.
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