Fu Yanlin counted his savings, finding he had twenty thousand left. This was all he had now. If he were truly desperate, he could swallow his pride, apologize to his mother, and perhaps return home to follow her plans for a different career.
But he wasn’t at that point yet. His gaze fell on his guitar case. He still had something to rely on, his last lifeline. The strings had broken during the journey, but they could be repaired. As long as he could still sing and play, he wasn’t at a dead end.
So Fu Yanlin mustered his energy, took a shower, shaved, and tidied himself up. He pulled open the curtains, letting sunlight flood the room. He squinted slightly, the sun was bright but warm, casting a golden glow on the distant snowy mountain peaks.
Online, they said Yunnan was a perfect place to relax, with low costs and picturesque scenery. Many people treated it as a retreat, and indeed, nature’s breathtaking beauty was both selfless and priceless.
“Hey, looking sharp today, handsome. Seems like you’re back on your feet.” A clear whistle caught Fu Yanlin’s attention. He turned to see Mo Xiaobei, who had somehow appeared without him noticing. Mo Xiaobei stood at the door, arms crossed, watching him with a teasing smile, holding an empty tray, likely having just delivered something to a guest.
“Are you busy? I’m heading out for a walk. If you’re free, maybe we can meet up another day. By the way, do you know if there’s a music store nearby?” Fu Yanlin put down his phone, slung his guitar case over his shoulder, and casually tucked a stray curl behind his ear, smiling lightly at Mo Xiaobei.
Mo Xiaobei’s eyes lingered on Fu Yanlin’s pale, luminous fingers for a few seconds before he looked away and replied smoothly, “I’m free. I was just helping a colleague deliver something. We can head out now.”
Twenty minutes later, Mo Xiaobei led Fu Yanlin and his guitar into the bustling streets of the ancient town of Dayan.
Amidst the throngs of tourists, Fu Yanlin adjusted his mask and sunglasses.
Mo Xiaobei cast him a sidelong glance, teasing, “Wearing a mask in this thin air, aren’t you afraid of suffocating? People might mistake you for some big celebrity, risking your life for style.”
The mention of “big celebrity” made Fu Yanlin pause, a hint of melancholy passing through his eyes. He sighed lightly, chuckling, “I wish I were. Let’s just say I’m performing some performance art.”
Mo Xiaobei waved a hand, replying earnestly, “Among the people I’ve met, you’re one of the best-looking. If I had a face like yours, I’d flaunt it. Who knows, maybe I’d have a romantic encounter.”
“You know, I’ve seen many beautiful people because of my work, but someone with your natural looks is rare,” Fu Yanlin responded, engaging in a playful exchange of compliments with Mo Xiaobei, making them both laugh.
“So, what do you do for work?” Mo Xiaobei asked casually.
Spotting a music store at the corner, Fu Yanlin stepped inside, snapping his fingers at Mo Xiaobei, “Performance artist.”
“I’m here to buy some guitar strings. Do you have Elixirs?”
As Fu Yanlin entered the music store, he glanced around. The decor was quite abstract, with most shops in the area featuring Naxi ethnic designs, but this one had a tropical rainforest theme, making it feel like stepping into the Amazon. The unique African-themed decorations attracted many tourists, who mostly pointed and laughed before leaving without buying anything.
The sudden inquiry about prices surprised the owner, who greeted him with an enthusiastic smile, “Did you bring your guitar, handsome? We offer free installation with string purchases.”
Fu Yanlin carefully opened his guitar case and took out his guitar. Mo Xiaobei, unfamiliar with instruments, thought it looked beautiful, its glossy finish almost reflective. The only flaw was a small worn patch, where the words “25th Hong Kong Youth Singing Contest Champion” were faintly visible. It seemed the guitar’s owner valued this honor, often touching it.
Impressive, he really is an artist, Mo Xiaobei muttered under his breath, his gaze on Fu Yanlin filled with curiosity and surprise. People who come to Yunnan often have stories, and while it might sound pretentious, there’s some truth to it.
Watching Fu Yanlin and the owner bustling about, Mo Xiaobei reflected. Fu Yanlin’s hair was slightly curly, likely dyed, with a light brown hue in the sunlight, reaching his neck. With the temperature rising, he loosely tied it back with a hair tie, reminding Mo Xiaobei of a slightly fluffed cat’s tail.
“Young man, aren’t you going to fix the finish? This guitar is quite expensive, it’d be a shame not to,” the owner, perhaps not having had a customer in a while, eagerly suggested again.
Fu Yanlin’s eyes lingered on the guitar. He had many, but this one carried his highest honor to date. At twenty, he was truly spirited. Standing on stage, amidst thunderous applause, he seemed to see a starry path unfolding beneath his feet, leading to his dreams.
But twenty-year-old Fu Yanlin couldn’t have known how arduous his journey would become, with mountains too high and waters too deep to cross.
“No, it’s fine as it is.” Fu Yanlin shook his head, paid, and packed the guitar back into its case before heading out.
“It’s not expensive to fix, are you sure you don’t want to? It looks a bit incomplete,” Mo Xiaobei remarked, a bit regretful. Fu Yanlin, tall and long-legged, walked briskly, and Mo Xiaobei had to jog a few steps to catch up and walk alongside him.
“It’s fine. Out with the old, in with the new. If you stay stuck in the past, you’ll never move forward.” Fu Yanlin smiled nonchalantly, gazing at the distant Jade Dragon Snow Mountain hidden in the clouds, “You were the one advising me the other day, the most important thing in life is to eat well. Once you’re full and have energy, you can continue your journey.”
“That’s right. I know a great restaurant that locals love. I’m your guide today, so you’re treating me, right?” Mo Xiaobei clapped his hands, producing a freshly baked flower cake wrapped in paper like a magic trick, waving it under Fu Yanlin’s nose like teasing a cat, “Want some? It’s still warm.”
“When did you buy this, performing magic now?” Fu Yanlin chuckled, looking at Mo Xiaobei, whose face radiated a cheerful, sincere smile. His light-colored eyes were bright and clear like amber in the sunlight. Fu Yanlin was momentarily dazed, accepting the flower cake, “Thank you…”
“Hurry up and eat. I wandered around while you were picking strings. I’ve been here for months but never entered this music store, though I often visit the flower cake shop next door. You can’t come to Yunnan without trying these specialties. Freshly baked ones are the best, vacuum-packed ones to take home just don’t compare.”
Talking about food, Mo Xiaobei lit up, listing his favorites with enthusiasm.
Fu Yanlin took a bite. The pastry was soft and flaky, the filling sweet and fragrant with the rich aroma of roses.
“It’s delicious, not too sweet,” Fu Yanlin nodded. In China, the highest praise for a dessert is that it’s not too sweet.
“Of course, Xiao Bei’s selection is always good. My taste buds are top-notch,” Mo Xiaobei boasted, and Fu Yanlin, watching him, almost imagined a tail sprouting, spinning like a propeller and lifting him off the ground.
Fu Yanlin couldn’t help but laugh. He instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around Mo Xiaobei but thought better of it, his hand falling to pat his shoulder lightly, “Let’s go, lead the way, Mo Guide. I’ll treat you to something good, but just a heads up, I’m broke now, so nothing too expensive.”
“Do I look like that kind of person? Do I look rich to you?” Mo Xiaobei retorted, rolling his eyes in mock indignation.
The two sat by the window in a riverside restaurant, ordering several Lijiang specialties. Fu Yanlin had never tried grilled tofu before and was surprised when the first bite burned his tongue.
“Oh my, it’s molten inside, so hot!” Fu Yanlin exclaimed, and Mo Xiaobei quickly pushed a cold soda toward him.
“Yeah, tofu bites back. I warned you to be careful,” Mo Xiaobei laughed, finding this new acquaintance quite amusing.
As night fell, the restaurant lights came on, and a singer began performing folk songs. Though distant, the music mingled with the sound of the flowing stream, reaching their ears. Fu Yanlin recognized an old Cantonese song, tapping his chopsticks on his bowl to the rhythm, humming along.
“You sound great, truly an artist,” Mo Xiaobei said, impressed, giving Fu Yanlin a thumbs up.
“This is nothing, just the self-discipline of a professional. Do I sound better than the singer?” Fu Yanlin asked with a self-satisfied smile, “Xiao Bei, you’ve been here a while, do you know any bars looking for resident singers?”
“Oh? Are you planning to stay a while?” Mo Xiaobei raised an eyebrow, not realizing the hint of joy and excitement in his voice. He hoped this charming stranger would stick around a bit longer.
“Yeah, going back to my roots, working as a bar singer, saving up some money before traveling again. I’m like a drifting duckweed, going wherever the wind takes me, just going with the flow.”
“You’re in luck. Sister Chen rented the place next door and turned it into a quiet bar. It’s opening soon, and she’s hiring.”
Mo Xiaobei chuckled, raising his glass to Fu Yanlin, “Here’s to new beginnings.”
Their beer glasses clinked together with a crisp sound, signaling the arrival of summer.