Fifteen years have passed, and I still remember the first time I heard him play the piano, Schumann's "Butterflies". Butterflies, beautiful, graceful, delicate, fragile. All the descriptions surrounding it seem both exquisite and destructive. Like another phenomenon, a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil can cause a tornado in Texas. He was that butterfly, bringing me a dream, and now tearing it apart completely. Now, only music can accompany me forever.
The third month after we broke up felt like everything changed, yet also like nothing did. Seven years of long-distance relationship had always been like this, often completing his image with his voice over the phone or through texts, feeling like seeing him face-to-face. Sometimes we were too busy even for a phone call, or touring in different cities. When I finished work and it was nighttime here, needing sleep, he was already out in the early morning there. The longing and loneliness became unbearable, and I would find "friends," and he would find his "friends." These three months were no different from the seven years. But whenever I saw him on TV, or online, it felt like my heart was being torn apart, bleeding incessantly. During the bleeding, musical notes flowed out, unstoppable. Soaked in the studio in Taipei, writing songs into the night, exhausted and dizzy, my mouth salty, like melodies mixed with blood flowing through my tongue, vision turning red, different tracks jumping from the computer screen to the desk. I struggled to open my eyes, only to realize I was in a dream just now; indeed, my vision was distorted, filled with tears. While Ah Long (Dragon brother) wasn't paying attention, I buried my head in my arms, tears leaving curved marks on the white shirt, as if a smile was mocking my foolishness.
The next day, when I was buying coffee downstairs from the company, I ran into Bai Jingrui. The consecutive nights of staying up made it hard for me to distinguish between dreams and reality. Thinking about the time, she should be in Russia with He Tiantian by now. It wasn't until our tenth sentence that I realized I should be feeling joyful, but in an instant, the joy seemed meaningless because Ye Xi had already broken up with me.
"What's wrong with you? Why do you have a smile and a bitter face?" She took a sip of coffee, creamy foam lingering on her lips as she licked them.
"Nothing, hey, forget about me. So, you guys aren't going to Moscow anymore?"
"Yeah, Tiantian told me Ye Xi also has no plans to continue his PhD. Don't you know? Aren't you good friends with Ye Xi?"
"Yeah, I didn't know, because I haven't been in touch with him much lately."
He's not going to Russia anymore. Even though his mentor passed away, there are still many other highly qualified professors at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory. My heart spoke: "Could it be because of me that he's not going for his PhD?" When people are extremely sad, they try to find some joyful reasons. But the moment I learned that Ye Xi wasn't going for his PhD, I believed my persuasion had worked. But then why did he break up with me? That doesn't make sense. Suddenly, I understood, perhaps all these years, he had never admitted that he fell in love with another man, he and Wang Zhen were the respectable intimate relationship. And what about me?
The paper cup in my hand gradually crumpled, the coffee at the bottom of the cup overflowed from the plastic lid, and the cold coffee flowed into my palm. A hint of bitterness lingered in my hand. A chill rose in my heart. If the coffee had been originally iced, there wouldn't have been this blend of warmth and chill. Recalling the initial affection with Ye Xi, it was a warm and pure love, enveloped in the purest idealism, and a beautiful yearning for music. On that first night, there was nothing impure except for love. In my eyes, apart from him, I couldn't see anything else. I even forgot about God for him.
God cannot restrain us, yet we are restrained by society. Why have we become like this now? Apart from blaming society and the times, it seems there is no solution. At this point, it's not my fault, and even less his fault. We are all the same, with cautious hands that touch and then retract. Thinking like this, a deep compassion arises in my heart above love, for myself and for him. This compassion forms a force that breaks through everything, making me understand his cruelty towards me. He doesn't not love me; it's just that I didn't give him enough confidence. Drifting alone in every corner of the world, he is so lonely and powerless. My Apollo, he's not a true god; he's the flesh of the god on earth. In the past, I always thought he was the strongest person, but in fact, he also needs my support. Like me, he still has human frailties. I cannot deny his love for me because of his fragility. When he utters the word "breakup," I should believe that he still loves me.
When I came to my senses, I had crumpled the coffee cup in my hand.
"Yan Feng?" Bai Jingrui nudged my shoulder.
"Oh, I remembered there's a problem with what I wrote yesterday, I need to go back up and revise it."
"Alright, workaholic." Her smile was always elusive, as if seeing through yet not revealing, "By the way, you remember you owe me a favor, right?"
"Oh, yes."
"Don't tell my family about me and Tiantian."
"I thought they all knew, you mentioned it at the celebration party for 'Shanghai Lovers' last time..."
"No, besides Director An, no one else knows."
"Okay." I glanced at my watch.
"You should go up quickly."
It turns out Bai Jingrui was just like me, and so was Ye Xi. We were all the same, carrying the shackles of unconventional love. If someone lacks enough courage and strength, we should support each other. I no longer feared being seen through by her; in the republic of love, we were comrades. In the elevator going up, as I looked at myself in the mirror, a smile suddenly appeared on my face. The songs I wrote these days found solace, and there were so many words I wanted to say to Ye Xi, these words intertwined into musical notes echoing in my ears. I wasn't by Ye Xi's side, I repeatedly missed his moments of vulnerability, when he needed me I wasn't there, and I blamed him for leaving me. But the wrong person was me. I should apologize to him. What kind of apology could make him understand that my love for him is the only confession? Let's return to music; if the world is too dangerous, only music is safest.
The 20th melody is written, but I haven't had time to record each demo individually. Though simple, it encompasses all my feelings for him. I've always wanted to give Ye Xi a song that could represent both of us. It would be best if it used the same chord progression for both songs, with similar or the same keys. It could be a simple song, just like our initial love.
The email is ready, and I'll send him the written melody along with the following:
"Xi Xi,
I understand your indecision because I'm the same. We are the only accomplices in this world, witnesses to each other's first offense. In the eyes of God and the world, our sins are unforgivable. But it's precisely because of this that I understand your needs best, and you understand my sins most. Others don't matter; they're just passersby because they can't see, or choose not to see, our other side. They only need our surface perfection; you and I are the only solid support in this world.
I love you, and I'm willing to accept everything about you—your cruelty to me, your vulnerability, your insecurity. Please rely on me.
I know you're not going to Russia anymore. In the days ahead, I will cherish you, and let's start anew."
After sending the email, I close my computer. The months of despair and fleeting joy vanish, and sleep overwhelms me. When I wake up, I find a latte next to me, with a note: "The new song is great, it will surely be a hit." It's Ah Long's handwriting, but he's nowhere to be found. The studio clock points to 3 a.m., it's time to go home.
Last year, I moved out of the old house on Nanjing East Road and started living on my own. Grandma also moved out of the old house due to health reasons and moved into a nursing home. I bought an apartment in the Guotin building on Zhongxiao East Road, recommended by Zhang Hongsheng. He also lives there, which makes work more convenient. Due to being busy with work, I've neglected the upkeep and haven't done much decoration. The empty living room makes the slightly cool September even lonelier. I no longer have the energy to savor the loneliness of this moment. Right now, all I want is to find a soft support to allow me to have a good night's sleep. The white three-seater sofa is enough. Pressing against the linen texture, I feel immensely relaxed. Vaguely aware that tomorrow is the weekend, I reluctantly turn off the alarm clock when I open my eyes, and then close my eyes again. It's as if I've disappeared. I rarely experience such dreamless deep sleep. Tonight, I have no dreams, as if they've been set aside, and I feel unprecedented relaxation. All the musical notes have been exhausted during the day, so there are no sounds in my dreams. In this dreamless night, my body feels unusually light, as if the thirty years of resilience have turned into a feather, scattered by the wind into finer fibers. When I realize Ye Xi's fragility, I finally admit my own fragility. All the talent I wanted to prove becomes a vulnerable spot when I see his fragility. It's the first time I feel sorry for him and for myself, but it's not a bad thing. On this autumn night, fragility is not shameful.
The next day, I wake up to noon. I get up and use a Moka pot to brew a cup of coffee. The boiling water in the pot makes a gurgling sound, growing more frequent until the whole house is filled with the aroma of coffee. Today's aroma is like the scent of Kenyan washed flowers, very similar to Ye Xi's scent—sweet yet bitter. I pour out the coffee, leaving a drop of dark color on the pristine white bone china cup, which is no big deal; I wipe it off. I open my email and see 310 messages, but only one is worth attention, marked with a yellow star. The coffee is now just a ring at the bottom of the cup, leaving a few dregs on the pristine white bottom. I've heard that some people can divine their fortunes through the coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup, but I don't care whether my luck today is good or bad; I don't believe in these things. However, Ye Xi seems to believe a lot in them. Every time I visit his home in Berlin, I always see a few crystals. He says these crystals give him energy. I always feel that Wang Zhen told him about these things, and I don't want to pay attention to such superstitions.
But I believe it was the coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup that brought me good luck. When I saw the words "Ye Xi" to the right of the yellow star, I also became superstitious.
"The melody you sent me is very good, the accompaniment chord source files are in the attachment, take a listen. Also, I'll write the lyrics for this song."
The email contained only two sentences, sweeter than ten thousand "I love yous."
Ten minutes later, the phone rang.
"Yes, I'm not going to Russia. And, next year, I should be going to the United States for development."
"...," it was Ye Xi's voice, a voice I hadn't anticipated.
"Aren't you happy?" he suddenly asked me confidently.
"I am, it's just too sudden."
"Oh, and don't worry, my decision not to go to Russia and to go to the United States has nothing to do with you."
"Do you love me?" I felt it was time to take this step. All along, his hot and cold attitude towards me wasn't because he didn't love me. His indecision stemmed from his fragility, from his fear of losing, from the immense pressure he bore, just like me. "What I want to say to you, did you hear it? I've always forgotten to tell you, actually, you can rely on me. When you need me, you can tell me. I'll always support you, I'll be there for you at the first moment. If you don't want to say it out loud, write it in music, tap three times."
"I've written it. I love you."
Someone once said, "I love you" is the shortest spell in the world. Back then, I thought it was extremely cliché, lacking in manly spirit. But when Ye Xi said these three words, it felt like he used a key that had been hidden in his heart to open a new door. The champagne-colored light pierced into my eyes, making them unable to open. My ears rang with a melodious melody. My lips were dry, filled with sweet juice. My nostrils were blocked, filled with a strong fragrance. All my senses malfunctioned under the overwhelming impact.
"I was going to look for you today. Where are you?" I struggled to suppress the sobbing, tears silently streaming down.
"I have a lot of things to deal with these days, there's an issue with the company in Beijing."
"Do you need me? Is there anything I can help with?"
"Dai Yanzhi and He Tiantian are enough. They're both very capable. They're helping me contact overseas economic companies. I can handle the work stuff."
"Is there an issue with Wang Zhuo?"
"Yeah," he paused, "but it's fine now. It's almost resolved."
"This isn't good for you. He's very influential."
"It's okay. I'm also renegotiating my contract with the record company. Don't worry about it."
"This is such a big deal!"
"It's hard to explain over the phone. Barring any surprises, I'll be performing in Taipei in October. We'll meet then."
He's coming to Taipei. He's coming to Taipei. He's going to the United States, and I'm in the United States. My heart, filled with overwhelming sweetness, opened my eyes and finally saw the future. The house isn't even properly arranged yet; this apartment is too simple. At the very least, there should be a Steinway piano in the living room for him to play every time he returns to the Guotin building. There should be a piano he likes, an antique Steinway.