He had only taken a small sip of the white liquor (baijiu); rather than calling it drunkenness, it was more of a momentary dizziness that rushed to his head.

By the time they reached the school gate, Xie Lan had sobered up a bit. Dou Sheng was negotiating with the security guard, so Xie Lan let out a breath and opened his phone.

Messenger was lit up with a bright red notification; Xie Jingming had sent another message.

[Dad heard you did well on the math exam. Congratulations.]

[Guaranteed admission through competition is indeed a path, but it carries risks. If you can’t get into your desired university, it would be better to come back and participate in the AMC. You have high hopes for applying to Oxford or Cambridge. Think it over.]

[Lan Lan, you aren’t a child anymore. You need to learn to coexist with the dissatisfactions of life. Dad and Elizabeth won’t have any further plans in the short term. You can come back and try getting along with her like a friend first.]

Xie Lan read the first part with a relatively stable emotion, but the moment the word “Elizabeth” appeared, he quit the app on the spot.

The more Xie Jingming planned slowly like this, the more it signified his intention to manage a long-term relationship with that woman. Xie Lan frowned, pulling at his T-shirt collar to fan himself, feeling a bit stifled in his chest.

After passing the security checkpoint, Dou Sheng asked, “What’s wrong? Why is your face so sour?”

Xie Lan was silent for a moment before whispering, “Nothing, just read a few messages from my dad.”

At the mention of Xie Jingming, Dou Sheng didn’t ask further. He walked with his hands in his pockets, looking like he was pondering something, or perhaps just zoning out.

Xie Lan brewed his emotions for quite a while before finally opening the app again and replying to Xie Jingming.

[What you guys want to do has nothing to do with me. I am not coming back.]

He tapped send and immediately exited, then went ahead and temporarily uninstalled the app, finally letting out a long breath.

Dou Sheng, seemingly deep in thought, suddenly said softly, “I want to film a hardcore record of domestic high school life. It’ll be a relatively long-term project. We can release a teaser trailer first, then slowly gather footage, and release the film at the end of the semester.”

The topic appeared a bit abruptly, and Xie Lan’s reaction was half a beat slow. He let out an “Ah?”

Dou Sheng glanced at him. “I want you to cooperate and appear in part of the main storyline. It depends on whether you’re willing. This kind of video needs entertainment value, so sometimes we might play a bit wild. I feel like… maybe right now, life’s grip on your spirit isn’t tight enough yet. Once you are truly dominated by high school life, you won’t care so much about ‘over there’ anymore.”

Spiritual grip, dominated by life—Xie Lan didn’t quite understand. He frowned, digesting it for a moment. “From my perspective? Like a ‘Returnee Survival Documentary’?”

Dou Sheng was amused. “Close enough. ‘Returnee Child’s Domestic High School Survival Record’. Yes, let’s call it that.”

Xie Lan fell into silence. The alcohol seemed to be rushing to his head again, making him feel heavy and groggy.

“There’s no reason why not.” He lifted a hand to rub his faintly throbbing temple. “But it’s very hard for me to produce ‘entertainment value’.”

“That’s not necessarily true. If you agree, leave the rest to me.” Dou Sheng smiled mysteriously. “Let’s agree beforehand—no getting genuinely angry.”

Xie Lan glanced at him sideways, a faint premonition of something bad rising in his heart.

The four of them walked in a staggered formation past the podium and the front playground. Turning past the east side of the teaching building, the dormitory building was just ahead.

Walking along, Xie Lan asked again, “How do you define hardcore high school life?”

Dou Sheng didn’t answer. Xie Lan continued walking, “Do you mean academic pressure, or…”

Before he could finish, his arm was suddenly grabbed by Dou Sheng. Dou Sheng said coolly, “For example, the person in front of you is enough to define hardcore.”

Xie Lan looked up blankly at these words, and his whole body went stiff.

Not far away, Dai You and Wang Gou were frozen beside the legendary window that one could climb into the dorm from. Hu Xiujie was standing right next to them. Her face, illuminated by the moonlight, bore an expression that would be unforgettable for eternity.

She squeezed out words, one by one, through her teeth, carrying a chill with them. “The first surprise inspection for staying out all night this semester, and I actually caught the four of you.”

The dorm supervisor flipped through the record book quickly nearby. “Director, wait a moment, let me see which class they are in!”

“They are in my class,” Hu Xiujie said.

The supervisor’s hand froze in the wind.

Hu Xiujie took a deep breath, sinking her Qi into her dantian—

“Go stand against the wall, all of you!!!”

Xie Lan was stunned by this roar. For a moment, he didn’t know which link had gone wrong, so he could only subconsciously imitate Dou Sheng. Together, they leaned against the rough wall of the dormitory building, shoulders and backs fitting perfectly against the surface, like little cookies pressed onto a baking sheet.

Dai You had obviously rarely encountered such a battle array, and Wang Gou, needless to say, had already started shivering, brewing up tears. Only Dou Sheng remained calm as ever, even letting out a soft yawn.

“Study Committee Member,” Hu Xiujie said with a dark face, “You speak first. What did you go do?”

Dai You whispered an apology. “Sorry, Teacher. We went to eat a late-night snack and came back late.”

“Late-night snack?” Hu Xiujie subconsciously sniffed. “Barbecue stand outside? Did you drink?”

Xie Lan was greatly shocked internally—Hu Xiujie guessed what students did way too accurately.

Dou Sheng answered spookily from the side, “Teacher, why don’t you smell him?”

“Am I a dog?!” Hu Xiujie exploded on the spot, her voice raising eight octaves. “I don’t need to ask to know you instigated this! Who else went to eat besides the three of them? Any girls?”

Dou Sheng sighed. “There was also Yu Fei and Che Ziming. I don’t need to tell you, you’d know anyway. No one else.”

Xie Lan stood to the side, humbly learning Dou Sheng’s speaking techniques.

Dou Sheng was indeed skilled at dealing with Hu Xiujie. He avoided what needed to be avoided very cleverly; he was honest about some things and lied calmly about others. For example, regarding Liu Yixuan, he lied decisively, estimating that dragging a girl into this would change the nature of the offense.

Hu Xiujie glared at Dou Sheng for a good while, her eye-daggers carving fiercely across his face, before turning to Xie Lan.

Xie Lan’s breath hitched, and he immediately looked at his nose, and his nose looked at his heart (keeping his head down respectfully).

“Did you drink?” Hu Xiujie asked coldly.

Xie Lan was silent for a moment, then whispered, “Teacher, why don’t you smell him?”

Hu Xiujie: “…”

Dou Sheng let out an “Ouch,” laughing so hard he couldn’t stand straight. He held his waist and slid down from the wall, only to be shoved back by Hu Xiujie with a slap. A flurry of palms landed on his shoulders and arms.

“Hey, hey.” Dou Sheng let her hit him while laughing. “Teacher, why are you hitting me? Hit him, he’s the one annoying you.”

Hu Xiujie scolded, “He was led astray entirely by you! A perfectly good Xie Lan—how well-behaved was he when he first arrived? Look what you’ve turned him into?!”

Dou Sheng argued helplessly, “Isn’t he still pretty well-behaved now? Alright, alright, Teacher, I was wrong…”

Dou Sheng took a beating for no reason. Once Hu Xiujie settled down, he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “We did drink a tiny bit. Added together it wasn’t even a full glass. We six guys shared it; it was like one sip per person. I had a bit more, two sips.”

Hu Xiujie glared at him angrily.

“Teacher, don’t eat me.” Dou Sheng quickly held up two hands. “We were just celebrating. Xie Lan got first in the city for math, but his academic pressure is a bit high. He wasn’t in a good mood after finishing the science comprehensive test today, so we just wanted to help him relax.”

Hu Xiujie’s face cleared up slightly. She looked at Xie Lan. “Pressure is high?”

Xie Lan could only nod.

“Sigh.” Hu Xiujie reached out and patted his hair. “Teacher knows your pressure is high, but Old Ma should have told you. With your math scores, if you perform well in the competition, you can go to whatever school you want. The purpose of exams isn’t to make students anxious, but just to train in a different way. Domestic students spend ten years studying hard; to put it plainly, it’s all preparation for that final battle. Do you understand?”

Xie Lan was rubbed until he was dizzy. He didn’t understand. But he tried hard not to run away, nodding. “Okay, Teacher.”

As soon as his voice fell, Dou Sheng seized the opportunity to bow his head. “Anyway, we know we were wrong. Sorry, Teacher!”

Beside him, Dai You immediately said, “We won’t dare to do it next time. Sorry, Teacher!”

Wang Gou followed with a confused look, bowing his head. “Sorry, Teacher!”

Xie Lan secretly glanced at Hu Xiujie’s expression.

Hu Xiujie’s face was more peaceful than before, and a bit helpless.

After a long time, she sighed and said, “Alright. Don’t let me catch you a next time.”

“Message received.” Dou Sheng immediately turned his head. “Goodnight, Teacher.”

“Stand still.” Hu Xiujie said coldly from behind. “Did I say you could go? I’m warning you, with me, things don’t happen twice. If I hear about you staying out all night one more time this semester, you’ll be reading a self-criticism under the national flag during the interval exercises. Do you hear me?”

Dou Sheng nodded rapidly while slipping away quickly. “Mm-hm, mm-hm, okay.”

Once they entered the dorm building, Xie Lan couldn’t help but ask, “Is reading a self-criticism under the flag a domestic cultural characteristic?”

“It’s a Hu Xiujie characteristic. As long as you don’t provoke her, you’re fine.” As Dou Sheng spoke, he glanced at Xie Lan’s weary expression and smiled. “If you really have to do a self-criticism, I’ll write the script for you. Don’t worry.”

---

With Liu Yixuan willing to return, Xie Lan immediately started gathering people, selecting songs, and rehearsing. The outdoor symphony orchestra project advanced very smoothly.

The day of the livestream was set for the last weekend before the provincial training camp began. The weather was beautiful, the wind gentle and the sun bright, the sky blue as if washed clean. On the grass of the main playground at Yinghua High, a violin, an electric piano, a pipa, and a bamboo flute were positioned behind their music stands. A circle of cameras was set up around them; the array was comparable to a media press conference.

Dou Sheng gave a few instructions to the field control guy who came to help, then said to Xie Lan with a beaming smile, “The lighting is really good today. You can’t even tell this grass is artificial. At a glance, you’d think it was a famous national park.”

Xie Lan gave a hum of acknowledgement, carefully checking the field of view of each camera position—each instrument section had a main view and a side view, and there were three overall wide shots. He couldn’t help but marvel, “Did you bring every single camera you own?”

“Of course. I’ve gone bankrupt for this.”

Dou Sheng scanned the circle of long and short lenses, sighing with emotion. “I finally understand why I haven’t saved any money after being an Uploader for two years.”

Xie Lan asked, “Is this many really necessary? It’s just a twenty-minute livestream.”

“The livestream doesn’t matter, but don’t we have to release a polished video afterward? With this lineup, if the video doesn’t get three million views, I’d be letting everyone down.”

As Dou Sheng spoke, he lifted his tablet and continued to sketch and mark. On the screen was the logo of a certain music training institute that would be displayed in the livestream frame later; it matched this episode’s theme well.

This advertisement was something Dou Sheng had actively gone out to pull in. Two days ago, just after Xie Lan and the others finished rehearsing, Dou Sheng suddenly said he found an advertiser. They could earn a sum of money to split among everyone, and he also said they needed to add a clarinet to the band.

Xie Lan was indifferent to handling promotions. The only thing he felt helpless about was that although the brand appreciated his performance level, they valued Dou Sheng’s fan base more. Even though the livestream and video would be pushed by Xie Lan, Dou Sheng would repost it. The brand required Dou Sheng himself to join the performance; just being in the frame wasn’t enough, they insisted on forcing an electric piano in for him.

But Dou Sheng had only studied piano for two months. Xie Lan racked his brains and finally arranged twelve measures for him across the three songs, hiding him in the small orchestra to fish in troubled waters (slack off/blend in).

Violin: Xie Lan, Mao Lengxue. Piano: Dou Sheng, Dai You. Bamboo Flute: Liu Yixuan. Pipa: Dong Shuijing. Everyone had arrived.

Liu Yixuan and Dong Shuijing were both wearing Hanfu; Liu Yixuan in pale pink, Dong Shuijing in pale goose-yellow. They looked beautiful standing on the grass.

Xie Lan checked the time; ten minutes left.

“Who exactly is the clarinet?” He frowned and asked, “Was the sheet music given to them?”

Dou Sheng was still concentrating on beautifying the subtitles that would hang in the livestream room. “Don’t rush, he’ll come. I told him there’s money involved.”

Xie Lan was shocked. “You paid someone to come?”

“If you put it that way, I guess it counts. After all, he definitely wouldn’t come without money.” As Dou Sheng spoke, he turned the tablet toward Xie Lan. “Look, are you satisfied with this cartoon handwritten font?”

[Early Summer Wutong | Small Grassland Symphony | Yinghua High School Class 2-4]

Program: “My Neighbor Totoro”, “Merry-Go-Round of Life”, “Prince of Lan Ling’s Entry into Battle”. Each round 10 minutes, performed for 2 rounds.

The theme this time was warmth, healing, and Chinese-style adaptation. The first two songs featured the violin as the lead, the third featured the pipa. All three were a fusion of Eastern and Western instruments. “Prince of Lan Ling” would also be accompanied by drum music prepared on a computer beforehand.

Xie Lan stared blankly at “Class 2-4” in the title for a moment.

“The clarinet is from Class 4?”

A name suddenly popped into his mind, but he didn’t quite dare to guess.

Just as Dou Sheng was about to speak, the phone placed to the side rang. Caller ID: Chen Ge.

Dou Sheng pressed speakerphone directly, speaking coldly, “Are you coming or not? So many people are waiting for you. My project has a client; if you mess it up, you pay for it.”

The sound of rushing wind came from the phone. After a moment, Chen Ge’s voice sounded. “Where? Couldn’t find it.”

“The big playground. Where else has grass? Did staying in Class 12 for a month make you stupid?”

The other party was silent for a few seconds, then the beeping sound of the call disconnecting rang out.

Dou Sheng casually hung up the phone and smiled at Xie Lan. “Chen Ge is quite reliable. If he agrees, he’ll come. He’ll just pull a sour face, that’s all. Can’t be helped, injured children are all like that; we just have to endure it.”

Xie Lan didn’t reply, staring blankly at Dou Sheng.

Only now did he seem to understand why Dou Sheng insisted on getting this advertisement.

Dou Sheng continued to discuss with him in a low voice. “The education institute didn’t give much money. Plus, this time you’re the main creator and I’m reposting, so they don’t have much confidence in the data. We’ll donate ten thousand of the ad fee to charity. For the others, we agreed on two thousand each. The remaining twenty or thirty thousand, let’s not split it. Let’s give it all to the clarinet, okay?”

Xie Lan looked at him for a while, then whispered, “You found the ad. I’ll listen to you.”

“Second Cat is so generous,” Dou Sheng laughed. “Truly a cat with a chivalrous spirit.”

Xie Lan couldn’t help but ask, “But will Chen Ge still take the money if he knows this?”

“He might have a misunderstanding about our industry. He doesn’t quite understand the awkwardness of us two—one outsider and the other temporarily without much traffic. He really thinks everyone gets twenty or thirty thousand.”

Dou Sheng tutted as he spoke, then nodded. “But then again, I usually just post small ads on Weibo. This is my first time doing a serious video integration. The first time is always valuable.”

Xie Lan looked at him. He was still his usual cloud-light, wind-gentle self, yawning, as if everything was just a whim, rather than a helping hand secretly extended to a friend under painstaking arrangements.

“Here he comes,” Dou Sheng said.

After Chen Ge appeared carrying the clarinet, the people on the field who were originally chatting immediately fell silent. Dong Shuijing hugged her pipa, looking a bit dazed.

The wind blew the music sheets on the stands, turning them gently. Chen Ge took the clarinet out of the box, his eyes sweeping over the people on the field.

He didn’t speak, just nodded as a greeting.

Dou Sheng yawned. “Finally here.”

“When do we start?” Chen Ge asked.

“Five minutes. Do you want to run through it with them? You’re the only one who hasn’t rehearsed together.”

“No need.” Chen Ge’s expression remained somewhat cold. “I practiced the sheets you gave me at home. I won’t mess it up for you.”

Liu Yixuan stood up, pulling a spare stool and music stand next to Dong Shuijing, saying faintly, “Clarinet should be next to Pipa. The shot looks better.”

Chen Ge looked back at Dong Shuijing, didn’t say anything, and sat down on that chair.

“A lot of people have already arrived in the livestream room. I’m ready to start the stream.”

Dou Sheng stood up, stretching his back in the bright sunlight. “Is everyone ready?”

Everyone took their places. Xie Lan’s violin was in the center position (C-position). The coffee-colored violin gleamed in the sunlight. He walked over, positioned the violin, raised his right arm in an elegant arc, rested the bow on the strings, and froze.

Dou Sheng also walked behind his electric piano and took a seat, placing his silenced phone where the lens wouldn’t catch it, and signaled the field control guy with his eyes.

The livestream officially started pushing the feed. The viewer count began to rise.

A sunny Sunday afternoon, paired with a small outdoor symphony, was utterly wonderful.

There was no announcer in the livestream, only white semi-transparent text curling and emerging on the screen—First piece, My Neighbor Totoro.

Xie Lan steadied himself, his gaze falling upon the violin strings, and drew the bow to lead the performance.

The wind flipped the sheet music with a rustle, but Xie Lan didn’t look at the score. His gaze landed only on the strings trembling beneath his fingertips. When to pause to let the Pipa in, when to continue to coordinate with the Clarinet, when to give a note, when to restrain—he was extremely familiar with it all, possessing the ease of a symphony orchestra’s first violin.

Chen Ge didn’t look at the score either. Those black eyes rested calmly on the clarinet, occasionally lifting to seemingly unintentionally land on Dong Shuijing’s face as she played the Pipa nearby, then sweeping past Dou Sheng and Dai You behind the two electric pianos not far away.

The wind was gentle and the sun beautiful; the light and melodious symphonic sound rang out over the grass of Yinghua.

Dou Sheng sat by the electric piano, listening to the cheerful notes, glancing at the bullet comments in Xie Lan’s livestream from time to time.

• Holy crap, what is this good stuff?
• Why did it start so suddenly? No announcement!
• I entered at light speed, immersed at light speed.
• Tears in my eyes, Totoro is my childhood.
• So the violin version of Totoro is like this.
• Crying, Lan Cub T T
• Everyone is so amazing, I love the sisters.
• Ordered bubble tea!
• Ordered a violin too!

Dou Sheng curled the corners of his lips slightly.

Xie Lan really looked down on him. Although he had only studied for two months, surely he didn’t need to be arranged to just poke at the keys twice per song.

He looked at the large sections of crossed-out sheet music in front of him and wanted to laugh a little, but held it back. In the video, the corners of his mouth held a gentle smile.

As My Neighbor Totoro ended, Xie Lan’s bow paused slightly.

The words My Neighbor Totoro on the screen dispersed like the fading trail of a plane in the sky, then regathered into Merry-Go-Round of Life. The moment the text became clear, Dai You’s piano sent out an elegant, deep vibrato, bringing out a low prelude. Then Xie Lan’s violin cut in, officially opening the melody. The style turned cheerful and melodious, yet within the melodiousness flowed a faint sorrow.

Dou Sheng watched Xie Lan. The wind blew Xie Lan’s thin clothes to one side, the fabric outlining the youth’s slender waistline. Dressed in a white T-shirt and light blue jeans, he looked so pale in the bright, sunny field of view that he seemed about to dissolve, yet those brows and eyes were so vivid. His black eyes were calm, hand holding the bow pushing and pulling, his whole being entwined in the melodious rhythm.

• Xie Lan is truly an absolute beauty in the mortal world.
• Second Cat is so doable, I’m dead.
• Where is Beans?
• This violin is blocking the view, I can’t really see Beans.
• Is he actually doing any work?
• DM keeps looking at EM.
• Real-name report: Beans is slacking off.
• Excuse me, I thought you were here to perform, turns out you’re a VIP in the inner circle.

In this piece, there was a section that was a duet between pure piano and violin, and it only allowed for one piano part. This was where Dou Sheng would accompany Xie Lan.

Xie Lan played with trepidation until that section. In his peripheral vision, Dou Sheng finally raised his gaze, looking at the sheet music with a focused expression. Then, three segments of bass chords were sent out steadily. Although not professional enough, those notes inexplicably carried a trace of tenderness, lingering in the gentle wind of the late spring and early summer afternoon, sobbing together with the violin.

When they reached Prince of Lan Ling’s Entry into Battle, Xie Lan finally lowered his bowing hand temporarily. Dong Shuijing held the Pipa, plucking lightly and twisting, merging with the rapid and sonorous drum beats. A magnificent dramatic feeling rushed over them. Then the Clarinet and Bamboo Flute joined, followed by the violin and piano. The layers of the music deepened, with the sounds of the Pipa and Clarinet having the strongest presence within it, singing back and forth to each other.

Xie Lan looked slightly sideways, his gaze landing on the monitoring screen not far away.

He couldn’t see the very fragmented comments before, but now, various screams were gradually replaced by a wall of scrolling text—lines of poetry floating past like a solid wall.

The Lanling wine exudes a tulip scent, the jade bowl filled with amber light.

If only the host could make the guest drunk, he would not know where his hometown lies.

Not know where… his hometown lies.

Xie Lan lowered his eyes and listened quietly. His black eyes were calm as before, only flashing with light inadvertently as they moved.

This was the first time in years he had returned to a “symphony orchestra” to play the violin. In an orchestra, the violin didn’t seem like such a lonely instrument anymore.

After the two rounds of songs were finished, the field control guy, following the prior agreement, abruptly cut the livestream the moment the final note fell and all the performers froze for two seconds.

The screen went pitch black. The bullet comments were blank for a few seconds, then question marks scrolled past frantically.

This was decided after repeated discussions between Xie Lan and Dou Sheng—start broadcasting suddenly, end suddenly. The first round of performance gave passersby time to flood in; the second round was the climax. And after the climax, only a split-second pause. In that split second, the sound vanished, the people dispersed. From beginning to end, no one announced the acts, and no one provided narration.

As if this was just a fairy tale that happened in an ordinary school on a late spring, early summer afternoon.

It was a grand illusion.

That night, fan recordings of Early Summer Wutong Grassland Symphony rushed onto the Bilibili homepage, air-dropping into the #1 Trending spot.

__

Author’s Note:

Zzzzt~~

Ding, dong, dong—

Zzzzt————

The keyboard typer couldn’t bear it anymore, pounding the table and roaring: “Can you stop?!”

The shrill music in the egg nest stopped. The curtain lifted, and two little eggs poked their heads out.

Lazy Egg was shocked: “You actually think our performance sounds bad?”

The keyboard typer nodded expressionlessly.

Bean Egg and Lazy Egg took a deep breath in sync, surprised: “Heavens.”