Chapter 127: A Waste of Precious Things

"Here is a song called 'Bell and Drum Towers.' I hope you enjoy it."

Huang Guolun gave a cool introduction, then began to strum his guitar, producing a sound reminiscent of a traditional sanxian. This vintage, traditional melody instantly cleansed the café of its pretentious atmosphere, as the Beijing-flavored essence of the Bell and Drum Towers and the Houhai district began to permeate the air.

Using an authentic Beijing accent, Huang Guolun sang the masterpiece he had kept deep in his heart:

"My home lies within the Second Ring Road,
Where the people here have so much time,
Talking about the troubles of their neighbors,
Watching to see what brand of cigarettes you pull out.
In the small eateries, the hardworking folks from other provinces,
Their expressions are just like mine..."

As the first line rang out, several college students chuckled, thinking Teacher Huang was showing off his wealth. But as they listened further, they felt as if they were being drawn into a bygone, vibrant era of flowing white shirts that had only recently faded away.

There were no desperate screams, no thunderous rhythms, nor the affectations of a phony folk ditty. Huang Guolun’s performance of "Bell and Drum Towers" was like a down-to-earth, simple scroll unfolding slowly, evoking a familiar, traditional scene in everyone’s mind.

For Hu Xuefang, a native of the Bell and Drum Tower district with years of life experience, the song was deeply moving. In this melody, time seemed to flow backward by twenty years, and she felt as if she were seeing scenes from her own childhood. She had previously read Liu Xinwu’s novel *The Bell and Drum Towers*, which won the second Mao Dun Literature Prize. Although some critics argued the characters were stereotypical and lacked depth, the novel’s structure was remarkably innovative. It described the lives and mentalities of residents in a courtyard near the towers over a single day—December 12, 1982—from five in the morning to five in the evening, with each hour as a chapter, centered around a wedding in the Xue family that brought the lives of every resident to the fore.

When Hu Xuefang had read the book, she felt a profound sense of intimacy. Hearing the opening of Huang Guolun’s song, she felt a sudden resonance, instantly recalling the stories from Liu’s book. The streets and alleys described in both were so similar and so dear that she fell in love with the song immediately, captivated by the singing that struck a chord in her heart:

"Bicycles tread upon fallen leaves, watching the sunset vanish.
I can no longer see the Silver Ingot Bridge, nor the Western Hills.
The moon in the reflection negotiates with the streetlights,
The lotus leaves in the water have already withered.
Discussing who will light the fire to cook in the morning,
Discussing whether to eat fried dough sticks or biscuits tomorrow..."

As Huang Guolun sang, more and more vivid, grounded images formed in the listeners' minds. The lyrics lacked the ornate, flowery vocabulary of prose poetry, nor did they depict grand or celestial landscapes. Yet, these simple, familiar scenes were enough to touch the soul and stir a sense of nostalgia.

Bai Yao had heard Huang Guolun sing this song before. Hearing it again, she was still moved to her core, feeling a sense of shock. The soul of a city lies in the ordinary yet great lives of its people. Every note and rhythm of this song resonated with the life experiences of common folk, striking a deep chord with Bai Yao, who had grown up at the foot of the towers. From the song, she not only heard a typical life but felt the scenes, sounds, scents, and the shifting dynamics of time being pulled from the depths of her memory. To her, the old hutongs around the towers were like the wings of the buildings—though they could no longer fly, they accompanied the two ancient structures, silently bearing the weight of historical change. It was a tangible power, slowly accumulated by time.

This power was also present in Huang Guolun’s performance. The song was not merely a sketch of street life; it contained awakening questions. The changes of the era brought both novelty and pain. Through the image of the Bell and Drum Towers, Huang Guolun subtly revealed this trauma:

"The Bell and Drum Towers breathe in the dust and smoke, letting you paint their faces.
I cannot hear your voice; it is too noisy and chaotic now.
You have watched for so long, why have you not spoken?
Who set such a difficult question, where the correct answer is everywhere?
Who set such a difficult question, where the correct answer is everywhere!"

Every time she heard this deafening cry, Bai Yao felt a melancholy beyond her years. Amidst the music, the rebellious girl felt as if she had stepped into the haze surrounding the towers, traversing streets and crowds once familiar but now strange, discovering that the place she once called home had vanished. After the clamor and destruction, amidst the ruins and smoke, this song brought her a powerful, comforting solace—it was so beautiful that she felt Huang Guolun had brought the towers to life, engraving them deeply into her heart.

Huang Guolun sang the opening lines again at the end, as if reconstructing a patch of nostalgic old hutongs within the ruins:

"My home lies within the Second Ring Road,
My home lies on this side of the Bell and Drum Towers,
My home lies inside this great courtyard.
My home, my home,
My home lies upon this Earth..."

The singing was weary yet gentle, carrying the power to heal and provoke thought, tapping into the hearts of everyone present. Whenever he finished this song, Huang Guolun felt a sense of loss himself. Under the ruthless grinding of history’s wheels, the scenes of his childhood could no longer be revisited or reenacted. The hometown no longer felt like a hometown; the home no longer felt like a home. All that remained were a scarred world and his own battered self. He could only hope that music, in this moment, could wipe away the pain in everyone’s hearts and allow beautiful memories to live on forever in this city folk song that swept away the dust.

After hearing the song, Hu Xuefang felt her nose stinging with emotion. Shen Yumeng had said that the videos she recorded of Huang Guolun didn't capture even a tenth of the live experience. Now, having heard him in the café, Hu Xuefang felt like retorting angrily that those videos didn't even capture one-hundredth of the magic of Teacher Huang’s live performance! Perhaps the song had stirred the deep-seated nostalgia in her heart, leaving her overwhelmed. After listening, she truly believed Huang Guolun was a musical talent far greater than Shen Yumeng had described.

This live performance was the most moving and impressive she had heard in years. To call this song a masterpiece was no exaggeration. Just from this one performance, she could deeply grasp the shock Shen Yumeng had felt. This brilliantly gifted music teacher possessed a level of musical literacy a hundred stories above the so-called big-name stars they had invited to their revamped show. He was truly a master-level folk musician! As Shen Yumeng had said, given time, this Master Huang would surely shine with a brilliance in the Chinese music scene that could establish a new school of thought. If their show could invite this master-level musician as a guest to chat about music and life, they might even leave a mark in history! After this song, Hu Xuefang was firmly inclined to invite Huang Guolun to be a guest on their program.

Zhao Jing, watching the live stream numbers quickly surpass a thousand on her laptop, felt a pang of regret so deep she wanted to beat her chest. She hadn't expected "Bell and Drum Towers" to be so grounded and beautiful! By her own musical standards, it ranked in the top three of all Huang Guolun’s original works she had heard. To sing such a classic song when there weren't many people in the live room yet was a waste of a treasure! As she listened, she stomped her feet in anxiety, complaining to herself: *Teacher Huang, why sing such a good song right at the start, and only for this handful of people in the café? You really don't know how to pace yourself!* If he had waited until the live room heated up, this could have been a major peak! Did he not know how classic this song was? Or was he so full of such heart-wrenching, brilliant songs that he didn't care? Either way, jumping straight into such a moving piece without even a warm-up was a terrible waste.

Zhao Jing was so anxious she felt like she might strip off her clothes—though she still hadn't taken off Huang Guolun’s black jacket yet. She understood that one should save the best for the most critical moment. She wouldn't show off when it wasn't necessary, but when it was time, she would do so boldly and generously.

The customers in the café, having heard "Bell and Drum Towers," were filled with a poignant sense of the passing seasons and the relentless march of time. Wang Peng took the lead in applauding: "Teacher Huang, this folk song you wrote is incredible! Listening to 'Bell and Drum Towers' right beneath the towers... the feeling is just indescribable!" Jiang Lili, leaning in Wang Peng's arms, wore a look of pure intoxication and nodded vigorously in agreement. Others chimed in, praising the vividness and precision of the song. Especially those hearing Huang Guolun for the first time felt incredibly lucky and happy; they realized how wise they had been to come to this musical event tonight.

Feng Zheng, who had been eyeing Bai Yao, commented, "Teacher Huang’s 'Bell and Drum Towers' is good, but I still think Zhao Lei’s 'Drum Tower' has more character."