Another morning arrived in the small southern city of Jiangcheng, gently awakened by warm melodies.
"Small southern city, where time flows slowly, every time I return, you're so serene..." Yang Yi hummed along to Mo Fei's guitar accompaniment. Though tender and affectionate, his voice carried a slight heaviness.
This was their first time practicing songs in the morning! Of course, there was no way Mo Fei could wake up earlier than Yang Yi. He had gone out while the night was still thick, running, training, and buying groceries before returning to rouse her from her deep slumber.
They didn't go anywhere. Closing the bedroom window, they headed to the large balcony. Mo Fei leaned back against the railing while Yang Yi stood by the wall, watching the morning sun filter through her hair, turning the strands fluttering in the breeze into gold.
The morning began with vocal warm-ups. After some practice, Mo Fei asked Yang Yi to sing a song for her. He didn't know many songs from this world, so he picked "Small Southern City," which Guo Ziyi had once performed for him.
To his surprise, Mo Fei really liked this jazz-folk tune and was quite familiar with it. She snatched the guitar and eagerly accompanied him.
"...I'm here singing this song alone, you wouldn't know, oh, you wouldn't know." Yang Yi finally finished, a little lost in his own enjoyment—singing to himself always felt pretty good...
But Mo Fei shook her head and mercilessly criticized, "Yang Yi, your voice isn't suited for this kind of song."
"Huh?" Yang Yi was dumbfounded.
"Your voice is that of a tenor. If you sang high-pitched songs, you'd handle them easily, but 'Small Southern City' won't work. When your voice drops low, it becomes too heavy, and you can't capture the refreshing quality folk music needs," Mo Fei explained patiently.
Yang Yi knew this well. In his past life in the military, his shouts were always the loudest and clearest.
But he didn't like singing high-pitched songs. Many of them were just about showing off technique, lacking any emotional depth or genuine feeling. How many folk songs he loved required tilting his head back and belting out piercing high notes to express emotion?
"How can I broaden my vocal range?" Yang Yi pondered, then asked Mo Fei, "Your voice is great—didn't some report say you can span three octaves?"
"You know about that?" Mo Fei looked at him in surprise.
None of her songs demanded such explosive high notes, but once on a music show, she accepted a challenge from the host and actually performed a three-octave span live.
"But I don't mind telling you. I can indeed sing three octaves, but it's built on a naturally wide range, achieved through practice," Mo Fei said with a smile. "My mother was very knowledgeable about music, so when she discovered my voice was exceptional as a child, she had me do many special exercises."
"Your voice is pretty much set now. It's hard to change through practice." Mo Fei hesitated but still told him this harsh truth.
After all, he was a man in his thirties now...
Yang Yi smiled bitterly.
Mo Fei comforted him, "But it's okay. Singing a song well isn't really about how wide your range is; it's about the quality of your voice. Your voice is lovely, Yang Yi—bright and clear. If you sing the right songs, you'll get good results."
Yang Yi frowned slightly. "I want to sing this song well. Is there no other way besides switching songs?"
Could it be that even in this new life, he could only listen to the songs he loved? Yang Yi refused to accept that.
Mo Fei shook her head and smiled. "You've misunderstood me, and your thinking is off. Does singing a song well mean you have to follow the original singer's style? Even with 'Small Southern City,' you can adapt it to a style you can handle. Don't force yourself to imitate Cao Fang. Try different approaches, and you can turn someone else's song into your own!"
Feeling that words alone weren't convincing, Mo Fei picked up the guitar again, gently strummed the strings, and said, "Let me sing a bit, and you listen."
"Small southern city, not dazzling, every time I return, I feel the calm..." Mo Fei's ethereal voice rang out, but it stopped after just a short passage.
"That's the original version," Mo Fei paused to tell him.
Then she played another short intro and continued humming.
"Hey!" Yang Yi's ears were sharp. He could tell that Mo Fei's rhythm had suddenly become brighter.
Though it was still her voice, Yang Yi felt that if he closed his eyes, he'd imagine a cheerful, clear-voiced girl singing. The song lost its melancholy and gained a touch of liveliness, not overly sweet, just right. (Note 1)
But Mo Fei only sang a bit before stopping. She then switched to another style, keeping the rhythm mostly the same as the original, but her voice dropped lower, slightly husky, with a wave of weariness washing over it. (Note 2)
"How about that? See how the same song can feel different with different styles?" Mo Fei said with a smile.
"Hmm..." Yang Yi hesitated.
Mo Fei noticed. "What's on your mind? Say it! No need to be shy!"
Yang Yi's face flushed slightly. He pointed at the guitar and said, "Could you sing that second style again? I think it sounds really nice."
Mo Fei naturally obliged, her slender fingers plucking the strings as she sang with a brisk rhythm.
"...I'm here singing this song alone, people just smile, oh, smile..."
Yang Yi listened quietly. He could hear that at the second "smile," Mo Fei let her talent run free, adding a playful touch.
At the same time, he saw the smile in her eyes, like the shimmering canal behind her under the morning sun, as if gentle autumn waves were flowing.
Yang Yi recalled a line that wasn't quite poetry: "A fleeting glance with eyes that sparkle, a smile that speaks without words." (Note 3)
Perhaps the woman Tao Yuanming once wrote about, who shared harmony with him in music, was as knowledgeable and beautiful as Mo Fei.
Lost in his thoughts, Yang Yi forgot to hide his feelings. Mo Fei's cheeks flushed under his dazed gaze, and she even sang a bit off-key, though neither of them noticed.
"Alright, now it's your turn to listen to me sing and help me see where I can improve!" Mo Fei said, shaking the stack of sheet music in her hand to mask her fluttering heart.
She needed to practice the songs Mu Zi'ang had written for her! The night before last, when she sang "In My Song," Mo Fei had unexpectedly received some good advice, so she believed Yang Yi had a unique talent for music.
"No problem." Yang Yi pulled himself together and said confidently.
(Note 1: For a taste, search "Small Southern City" on NetEase Cloud Music and listen to the version by singer "Shi Yu." Note 2: Listen to Li Wenxiang's version. Note 3: This "poem" comes from Tao Yuanming's "Fu on Idle Feelings," meaning "In her glances, her beautiful eyes ripple with autumn waves; sometimes she smiles and speaks without losing the focus of the music." Some say this was written for Zhai, the virtuous woman he married after his first wife's death, who shared his aspirations and could endure hardship, plowing in front while she hoed behind.)