Under Clear Skies Chapter 24: Don’t Freak Out

Chapter 24: Don’t Freak Out

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: ???

Tonight was Long Love’s rock night. The six bands could form a rainbow with their hair colors when they stood together—in comparison, Tang Heng’s group was just ordinary.

 

They were fourth. When they went onstage, the atmosphere was at its peak. The venue was packed with people, all of them swaying to the beat. An Yun had made her short hair black and glistening with hair gel; Jiang Ya was wearing a pair of flashy metal earrings and cast bedroom eyes at the girls in the audience while beating his drums. Their first song was a cover of All the Young Dudes. It was full of tight drum beats, hoarse singing, while carrying the decadent feeling of glam rock. This was the “national anthem” for the gays in the 70s in the US.

Tang Heng sang until his T-shirt was soaked with sweat and his lips were a dried red. They went off stage amidst the waves of encore, encore, each of them like they’d just been pulled out of water.

“Today was a blast.” Jiang Ya was out of breath. “Tang Heng is just fucking weird.”

An Yun nodded. She waved her hand and threw her head back, downing an entire bottle of water, before saying, “Something’s up, definitely.”

Jiang Ya went over to Tang Heng’s side. “Where’d you go this afternoon?”

Tang Heng lifted his shirt to wipe away some sweat and ignored him.

“Cut the act,” An Yun said too. “You were singing like you’re on a spring, like you got admitted by Harvard or something.”

“Oh, no way. Did Auntie agree to let you study abroad?”

Tang Heng glanced at them. He knew that if he didn’t give them an answer today, they’d never move on. Thinking for a bit, Tang Heng said, “I made a decision.”

“Yes, you decided to go abroad. You said that this afternoon,” An Yun muttered. “Is your mom okay with it?”

“Not this.”

“Then what?”

“Let’s do our album.”

Jiang Ya froze for a few seconds. Then he pulled Tang Heng into a hug. “Yeah!!”

An Yun didn’t laugh and instead, she furrowed her brows. “Really?”

 

They’d already had ideas about releasing an album—after all, for an unprofessional band, an album would be the best way to commemorate it. However, an album wasn’t something that could be done with just money. An Yun was good at writing and they had more than enough money to rent the best recording studio in Wuhan.

But an album—what should they do? Their band name was Hushituo, the Chinese transliteration of Woodstock—the 1969 music festival with more than 400,000 attendees. In addition, Hu (lake) was because the band was founded by the East Lake; Shi (gentleman) was from the quote gentleman die for those who appreciate them; Tuo was originally the character that meant lift, but Jiang Ya changed it to mean strip because he thought it was too formal and couldn’t express his promiscuous nature—An Yun had said that Jiang Ya tainted the band.

Anyway, they hadn’t thought that much when they first started the band or when they came up with the name. The theme throughout was just good enough. Anyway, being happy was the most important thing.

Then what kind of album should they make? The spirit of rock was about rebellion and protest. An Yun had said, Let’s write a song supporting the gays, hehe. We have personal experience! But Jiang Ya had retorted, Experience my ass, neither of you have dated. And he’d continued, Let’s write about the left-behind child. I was a left-behind child before and couldn’t see my parents the entire year. To which An Yun had scoffed, Yeah, left-behind in a 400-square-meter house with five nannies.

They’d brought up the album a few times like this. Each time ended with snarky jokes and punches and kicks.

 

“You really wanna?” An Yun questioned. “How come you suddenly thought of it?”

Tang Heng wrapped his sweaty ponytail a few times into a messy bun. “Because I sing well.”

An Yun: …

Jiang Ya slapped his knee. “Makes sense! Tang Heng, hurry and think. What theme should our first song be?”

Tang Heng paused for a moment and said seriously, “How about you don’t write the lyrics?”       

“Hey, why not?” Jiang Ya shot him a look. “Discriminating against students from second-tier schools, huh?”

“I’m not targeting your school…” Tang Heng paused. “I’m targeting you.”

Jiang Ya: Hey!       

An Yun was almost crying with tears of laughter on the side. She finally calmed down and dragged Jiang Ya to her side.

“Stop messing around. Listen, he—”

“I’m not messing around!”

“Listen!” An Yun wriggled her brows. “Something’s definitely up.”

“What?” Jiang Ya turned toward Tang Heng. “You’re gonna lead us to break into the entertainment industry?”

An Yun tsked as if Jiang Ya had let her down once again.

Tang Heng ignored them. He just picked up his guitar case and said, “Let’s go.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Jiang Ya said. “The owner’s treating us to crayfish later!”

“Then you guys can eat. I have something tomorrow.” Tang Heng glanced at his phone. “Gotta sleep early tonight.”

 

Tomorrow, he’d be going on interview visits with Li Yuechi’s group. He actually didn’t want to participate in his uncle’s project at all. Of course, he didn’t plan on stealing the fruits of other people’s labor either. Anyway, his uncle always went easy on him. He could make some excuses and this would blow over. But he had to admit that Li Yuechi’s Your singing is better than all of them hit his sweet spot perfectly, so perfectly that his brain overheated and he felt tipsy the entire night, putting extra effort into singing too.

The summer night breeze brushed against Tang Heng’s moist cheeks. He pulled out his phone and texted Li Yuechi: Where are we meeting up tomorrow?

Li Yuechi didn’t reply, but he wasn’t impatient. He strolled from the bar to the South Gate of Hanyang Uni and bought a cup of sweet rice wine. Jiedaokou Street at this time was filled with couples clinging to each other. Tang Heng just sat on a stone stump outside the campus gates, sipping on his rice wine and lazily studying the passersby. Of course, people studied him too. The night sky was a mix of light and dark, and this kind of boy, caught between maturity and youthfulness, a guitar hanging from his shoulder, a bun loosened into a low ponytail by his neck—this kind of boy would always cause people to be unable to look away. But Tang Heng ignored all the stares. He sipped his rice wine slowly, like he just wanted to feel more of the warm breeze or to whiff the fried chicken from the food stall on the side—nothing more.

Until his phone screen lit up with a text from Li Yuechi: 8 AM, outside the sociology department.

Tang Heng replied: Got it. In his mind, he added the second half of the sentence, See you tomorrow. Then he got up and tossed the empty plastic cup into the trash. He was going home to sleep.

He lived in an old faculty apartment building of Hanyang Uni. Fu Liling bought the apartment in his freshman year. Tang Heng walked while checking the map on his phone and saw that if he and Li Yuechi met up by the East Lake, it would be closer than meeting up at the sociology department. Their school was right by the East Lake. There was a gate called Lingbo Gate. You could see the green-blue waves of the East Lake as soon as you exited Lingbo Gate. But what would the two of them do at the lakeside so early in the morning? It’d be better not to make this suggestion, lest he seem even more like a good-for-nothing noob. It was strange though. He didn’t feel any anger when he thought of this word now.

 

When he got to his building, his phone rang. It was An Yun.

Tang Heng answered and asked, “You’re all done eating?” He’d thought that the group would mess around until two or three in the morning.

“Nah, I came out to buy water.”

“Oh.”

“Tang Heng, I… Wait.” It was noisy on An Yun’s side. Things quieted down a moment later. “I gotta tell you something.”

“What?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m over-thinking. If I’m not over-thing, then, don’t freak out…”

Tang Heng was taken aback. “Okay, just tell me.”

“Well, that Li Yuechi,” An Yun whispered, “I think he has a girlfriend.”