Murphy stood on the balcony, her gaze slightly hazy as she looked out at the Grand Canal, where only a few lights flickered along the shore. The night wind lifted her flowing hair, but she didn’t mind, silently lost in her thoughts.
Suddenly, a weight settled on her shoulders—a jacket draped over her skin, chilled by the river breeze. Murphy turned to see Yang Yi’s angular face.
Even in the backlight, it was still so familiar and handsome.
“Why aren’t you resting yet?” Yang Yi walked over to stand beside her, leaning on the railing in a relaxed pose.
“Can’t sleep. Maybe I had too much fun playing the piano today?” Murphy said with a faint smile.
When the two were together, awkward silences often crept in. Yang Yi wasn’t great at conversation, more of a listener, and Murphy was something of a loner too. Both were quiet types, and their chats would suddenly trail off, leaving an uncomfortable stillness.
After a moment, Murphy seemed to make up her mind and spoke up: “Do you know about my new album?”
Yang Yi hesitated, unsure how to answer.
New album? Which one? The comeback album from before? Or the one she was preparing now?
If it was the latter, Yang Yi figured he wouldn’t have known about it unless he was Mu Zi’ang.
“Is it in a bad state?” Yang Yi chose the former after a pause.
Murphy nodded, her expression calm, but bitterness lurked in her voice: “It’s probably the worst-selling album since my debut…”
Yang Yi was silent for a while before saying, “I can tell you’ve been under a lot of pressure these past two months.”
But Murphy wasn’t looking to complain. She was used to bearing things alone and moving forward. Calmly, she told Yang Yi, “There’s an opportunity now. A fan wrote me a song, and it’s really good. If I didn’t tell you his name, you’d never guess who it is!”
“…”
Yang Yi’s face showed no reaction, but inside he was torn between laughter and tears: “It’s me! Do I even need to guess?”
Yet, seeing Yang Yi’s blank expression, Murphy grew uneasy. She’d been worrying about this all along: “Are you angry?”
“Huh?” Murphy’s question came out of nowhere, leaving Yang Yi baffled.
Murphy pursed her lips and said quietly, “You’re angry!”
“What?” Yang Yi was now a mess of question marks, popping up one after another like a string.
Murphy felt a bit wronged but didn’t show it. She murmured, “Don’t be so bothered by it! Even though he’s a male fan, he said he only wrote the song because he likes my voice! And he’s also the lyricist and composer of that Chen Yijie song you like, ‘Long Time No See’—Mu Zi’ang!”
“Mu Zi’ang?” Yang Yi pretended to be surprised, then laughed. “He wrote you a song? Why would I care? That’s great news!”
Worried Murphy might overthink it, Yang Yi “helped” reassure her: “Mu Zi’ang’s songs are amazing. Having someone that talented write for you—you should be happy! Your next album will definitely sell platinum, just like Chen Yijie’s!”
Murphy was getting confused by her own thoughts and Yang Yi’s reaction.
This wasn’t right. Shouldn’t Yang Yi be upset?
She remembered that after telling Yang Yi she was making a comeback, she’d done a show where she sang a duet with another male singer. That weekend, when she dropped Xixi off to spend time with her dad, Yang Yi’s face was darker than usual, even grimmer than his typical stern look!
“The lyrics he wrote for me might be a bit ambiguous,” Murphy said hesitantly, being straightforward as always.
Since she brought it up, Yang Yi went along: “How ambiguous?”
“I’ll sing it for you, but please don’t take it the wrong way. He said these songs weren’t written for me, but for the woman he loves. They just suit my voice, so he hopes I can sing them well.” Murphy’s heart raced as she gave Yang Yi a heads-up.
Yang Yi nodded lightly, looking forward to it. He wondered how beautiful it would sound when Murphy sang the songs he’d prepared for her.
“Without a hint of warning, without a trace of hesitation…”
In the gentle night breeze, Murphy’s ethereal voice rose softly, like a nightingale from Chekhov’s pen:
“…When this singer opened her beak and trilled, filling the entire forest with her crisp, sweet song, even the accompanying orchestra forgot to play, holding their breath to listen. In the nightingale’s song were strength and tenderness…”
Yang Yi listened, almost holding his breath, his eyes fixed on Murphy’s face but seeming unfocused, yet so intent it made her nervous.
Finally, she finished a verse.
Murphy couldn’t help asking, “What do you think?”
“Huh?” Yang Yi snapped back to reality and said instinctively, “It sounds good, but a few lines weren’t handled well.”
“Hmm?” Murphy was a bit confused by his answer.
“For example, the line ‘From my world, no news’—you dragged it out a little. I think a faster tempo might sound better. And the part ‘Though you and I are strangers, passersby, we still felt each other’s presence, a glance, a heartbeat’—did you notice it has a rhythm? You need to bring that rhythm out…” Yang Yi compared Murphy’s singing to the original, and there were indeed many differences.
Though Murphy’s voice had a poignant charm in its understated sadness, the details hadn’t been polished yet.
Murphy, however, got excited by Yang Yi’s feedback. She pulled him to sing the parts he mentioned so she could feel the change in rhythm.
In the end, she had to admit Yang Yi’s interpretation of the original was impressive. She sighed, “You really have a talent for music! It’s a shame your voice has issues—you’ve never trained it, and you don’t know proper vocal techniques or breathing patterns.”
“Starting tomorrow, you’re practicing with me!” Murphy said seriously. “I’m going to teach you how to sing.”
Yang Yi knew his own weaknesses. In his past life, his voice had been ruined since childhood, sounding like sandpaper scraping, so he’d never thought about learning to sing. In this life, his predecessor hadn’t either.
“That sounds good, but I have to teach Xixi sword practice in the morning,” Yang Yi scratched his head.
“You’ll have to wait for her to wake up. We’ll be done practicing long before that!” Murphy said. “I want to go running with you, then practice vocals!”
Finally, they’d found something to do together!
Wait—Murphy realized she’d gone off track!
“No, I’m asking you—what do you think of this song?”
“It’s great! Mu Zi’ang wrote a good song, and you sang it even better!” Yang Yi praised.
“That’s not what I mean!” Murphy stomped her foot in frustration, pouting. “Don’t you think the lyrics are ambiguous? But you really shouldn’t mind, because Mu Zi’ang himself said these songs were written for the woman he loves, so don’t misunderstand! If you still don’t believe me, I can show you his email…”
Do I need to see it? I wrote it all!
Yang Yi was amused by this straightforward girl. He simply placed his hands on her shoulders, still wrapped in the jacket, and turned her to face him. Looking into her slightly panicked eyes, he smiled gently and said, “Listen up, Comrade Murphy. I’m telling you, I really don’t mind!”
“I’m happy Mu Zi’ang wrote you a song. And I’m even happier you sang it for me! I hope you keep working hard and sing joyfully on your stage. So go ahead and use it without worry!” Yang Yi met her gaze warmly.
“Mm…” Murphy, though over 1.7 meters tall, felt as small as a bird in front of Yang Yi. Under his “domineering” stare, she couldn’t help blushing, her heart racing.
Suddenly, the balcony fell silent again, as if another awkward pause had set in. But the atmosphere grew intimate…
Yang Yi forgot to let go. Murphy, so close before him, was delicate like a purple-and-white bellflower, her eyes darting like a deer’s, her lips slightly parted like petals. It left him parched and restless.
His heart stirred, yet he feared startling her.
“I…”
“You…”
After a long moment, they spoke at the same time.
“You go first,” Yang Yi said.
“I want to go back to sleep. I’m so tired,” Murphy’s voice was as thin as a thread, her head bowed, unable to meet his burning gaze.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same.” Though a bit disappointed, Yang Yi immediately let go and said softly, “It’s late. You should rest. Tomorrow, we’re getting up early.”
Murphy walked shyly into the living room, head down, but stopped and turned back. She bit her lower lip and said, “Thank you for tonight.”
She didn’t know if she meant thank you for the jacket or thank you for understanding.