Chapter 134: A Tale of Time

"The world is not perfect, and hope crumbles every day."
"Together, we shout with burning passion, refusing to turn into dust."
"In our youth, it's inevitable to be body-slammed by life, one after another."
"Fortunately, we rise time and again, refusing to be defeated."
"Fate grants us ten thousand chances; no fool would waste them lightly."
"The fall is painful, yet it’s worth savoring; with only one life, how could we squander our beautiful youth?"
"Na-na-na-na... my university!"
"Na-na-na-na... my university!"

On the small stage, Zhao Jing jumped and danced, singing with a slightly off-key voice, leading everyone to belt out the most youthful and unrestrained anthem of their lives.

Sitting nearby, watching Zhao Jing lead the entire hall of students in song, Huang Guolun couldn't help but feel a tinge of melancholy—a sadness for his own departed youth. Though he had never been as passionate and unrestrained as Zhao Jing in his own wilder days, he, too, had once possessed that same fervor for dancing with youth. Back then, he was naive but vibrant, his courage overpowering cowardice, his drive overshadowing complacency. He lived every day with intensity, his mind filled with the dream of exploring and changing the world through music.

Yet, times have changed, and the world has shifted. Although only a few years had passed since then, the weight of life had become so heavy that it left Huang Guolun struggling to breathe. He didn't want to admit it, but he had to: compared to vibrant young people like Zhao Jing, his own youth had not even a tail left—only memories and tributes remained.

But he didn't feel dejected by this. Having already experienced the most beautiful youth was enough for him. Which leaf can survive the late autumn? And who can live forever? Let what has passed fade away; as long as he kept the most beautiful memories in his heart, his own brilliant youth had not been in vain.

Zhao Jing’s radiant energy pushed the atmosphere in the café to a new height. The heat in the live stream was also set ablaze by this off-key but passionate "University Song." Finally, a small thumbnail screenshot of their live stream appeared on the homepage of Sunny Live!

The image captured Zhao Jing on stage in her yoga outfit, singing her heart out. This scene attracted a flood of passersby to pour into the stream to see what the commotion was about. Upon entering, they saw a girl of breathtaking beauty singing and dancing in a real-world setting, leaving many otaku fans ready to lick their screens, exclaiming:

"This streamer sister is so pretty! Why haven't I noticed her before? Is she a newcomer?"

"What newcomer? This is the famous Brother Jing! If you like beauties and don't know Brother Jing, you're way too out of the loop. Check the stream's profile and the rankings—she's been famous on Sunny for a long time!"

"Brother Jing's eyes shoot lightning when she sings! If only she weren't so off-key, I’d be completely electrified!"

"Don't be so harsh about her singing being off-key. With looks like that, if she could sing perfectly too, would other streamers even have a way to survive? In short, even off-key, Brother Jing is the most beautiful!"

"Brother Jing, open your mouth, here's a rainbow ice cream for you!"

"She actually hit half the notes on key! It looks like Brother Jing has put in a lot of hard work lately!"

"Brother Jing, please, stop singing. You're losing followers, seriously!"

"Is this a live concert? Why isn't she streaming from home like other streamers? Where is this? It feels so immersive."

"Admin Tip: Newcomers, check the stream profile. This room is broadcasting the music theme night at Salome Café in Houhai—'Stories of Time.'"

"Ooooooh!"

As Zhao Jing finished "My University," the college students in the café cheered wildly. Zhao Jing invited Huang Guolun and Bai Yao back onto the stage, excitedly saying, "Teacher Huang, please kick off tonight's music night with 'Stories of Time'!"

"Clap, clap, clap!" Wang Peng and the others applauded in unison.

Zhao Yan, finally less busy, brought desserts to the booth near the stage where Shen Yumeng and Hu Xuefang were sitting. After serving them, she sat down with her own cup of coffee, finally able to enjoy the music in peace. The guests who were supposed to come had mostly arrived; the aisles were filled with extra chairs, and the café was packed to the brim.

Facing such a fiery atmosphere, Huang Guolun's spirits were high. With the two beauties, Zhao Jing and Bai Yao, on either side of him, he adjusted the microphone and said to the passionate audience, "This is 'Stories of Time,' dedicated to everyone!"

He looked at Zhao Jing and Bai Yao, signaling with his eyes to follow the latest rehearsal—the three of them would sing this song of youth together.

The three sat in a row, Huang Guolun in the center, cradling his guitar and plucking the melody of nostalgia. As the music began, the room immediately grew much quieter.

Hu Xuefang had been deeply impressed by "Stories of Time" when she watched the video on her phone earlier. She had listened to it many times on Shen Yumeng's phone and never tired of it. For someone of her age—similar to or even slightly older than Huang Guolun—this song resonated the most. People of their generation, when reflecting on the past, always found themselves stirred by deep thoughts—a mix of regret and gratitude for how quickly time slips away, wishing they could hold onto the moments passed and cherish those who walked through that era with them.

For those of them at the tail end of their youth, the events and emotions of the past were complex. Looking back now, whether good or bad, the mind automatically filters and beautifies them, leaving only the finest aspects. Everything related to youth—love, friendship, hatred, or disdain—perhaps becomes the best plot in that story.

Hidden behind his sunglasses, his eyes carried a smile of a billion memories. Huang Guolun began to sing, his voice sculpting time itself: "The flowers of spring, the winds of autumn, and the setting sun of winter; the melancholic, young, and ignorant me once thought like that... The windmill turns day after day in the cycle of the four seasons; in the verses of romance, I grew year after year..."

This melodic sound, paired with Huang Guolun's vinyl-quality, magnetic, and gentle vocals, conquered every ear in the café the moment it began. Hu Xuefang wanted to shout, "Why is this song so good!" Zhao Yan and Shen Yumeng were also intoxicated by the song of spring flowers and autumn moons, admiring Huang Guolun immensely.

Bai Yao and Zhao Jing joined in on the chorus: "The flowing water carries away the stories of time, changing a person; right there in that sentimental, first-waiting youth..."

The three-part harmony was slightly discordant, mainly because Zhao Jing’s voice was higher and a bit off-key, while Huang Guolun and Bai Yao’s were lower. Yet, this layered dissonance represented the collision of youth. Such harmony gave a more authentic sense of nostalgia and era. Zhao Jing was purely a supporting player; with her ability, she couldn't carry the weight of this song.

In the second verse, Bai Yao, who possessed a voice with the same vinyl texture, took over: "Yellowed photographs, old letters, and faded Christmas cards; the song I wrote for you in my youth, you must have forgotten it by now... Past vows are like colorful bookmarks in a textbook, etching so many beautiful poems, yet eventually turning into smoke..."

Then, the three-part harmony returned: "The flowing water carries away the stories of time, changing three people; right there in that sentimental, first-tearing youth..."

Compared to Huang Guolun’s verses, Bai Yao’s section was full of personality and variation, making it deeply meaningful. The doors of youth for different people were all being pushed open by this warm, soul-touching song.

In the final verse, Huang Guolun and Bai Yao joined forces once more, their voices striking the deepest memories in everyone's hearts: "The distant journey, the dreams of yesterday, and the laughter that has faded; meeting again, how much ground have we covered... I am no longer the familiar me with those old, fervent dreams, and you are no longer the familiar you, though you still have that smile..."

Zhao Jing, content to play her supporting role, joined Huang Guolun and the others for the finale: "The flowing water carries away the stories of time, changing us; right there in that sentimental, first-remembering youth... The flowing water carries away the stories of time, changing us; right there in that sentimental, first-remembering youth..."

The café felt as if a warm, youthful sun had risen; almost everyone had their long-hidden memories of youth stirred by the trio's singing. Many in the live stream were filled with colorful emotions and countless thoughts. Some reached back to pick up fallen flowers, others grew melancholy. Although many weren't actively pining for the passing years, a single line of the lyrics inadvertently pierced the sadness of time’s passage in their hearts, leaving their memories hazy and strangely bittersweet.

Time waits for no one. The lyrics, filled with lingering attachment and expectation, yet shadowed by the uncertainty of the road ahead, resonated with everyone. In their singing, time made them feel nostalgic yet amused, eventually crystalizing into frames stored in their minds. It was like entering an archive sealed for years, turning the pages of precious documents—there lay the most beautiful memories we have in this world. No matter how much dust they collect or how much is piled on top, we will never forget them, because they are our youth.

In his office, Huang Guokun listened to "Stories of Time," and his entire being felt as if it were being shattered by the song. Listening to this tribute to youth, his memory was like a taut string; through those yellowed images in the song, he struggled to recall the past, only to be pulled back to reality in an instant. This strange sensation of traversing between the past and the present left him deeply moved. He finally understood why Huang Guolun’s singing was so good now—his music and voice had condensed the essence of time. He had finally achieved mastery!