Chapter 153: A Woman of Thirty

Huang Guolun was slightly stunned, failing to understand why Cai Yafang would want to listen to a song about a thirty-year-old woman.

Zhao Jing was also baffled and asked Cai Yafang, "That is such a bizarre request. Why on earth would you want to listen to a song about a thirty-year-old woman?"

"Because I am thirty," Cai Yafang replied with a shy and gentle smile.

"What?"

Zhao Jing had never realized that Cai Yafang was already this "old," and she asked in utter astonishment, "Are you kidding me? You're thirty? Three years older than my sister? You don't look it at all! Judging by your appearance, you should be three years younger than my sister!"

Zhao Yan viciously pinched Zhao Jing's thigh and snapped angrily, "You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you?"

"Ouch! Why are you pinching my leg just because I spoke without thinking!"

Zhao Jing was pinched so hard it brought tears to her eyes. She swore to herself that the next time she hung out with Zhao Yan, she would never wear thin leggings again. She had to armor herself in the thickest jeans paired with thermal underwear and fleece pants! Otherwise, her peerlessly long and gorgeous legs would definitely be pinched into a honeycomb by Zhao Yan.

Seeing Cai Yafang casually expose her own age, Tan Shan and Han Yue couldn't help but guess that this intellectual yet emotional female travel writer had truly been touched and moved to the core by Huang Guolun's music.

Although the two of them also acknowledged that Huang Guolun sang exceptionally well, they usually immersed themselves endlessly in "high-end" music. They could never quite warm up to mainstream pop music; even the finest live-level performance could not move them as deeply as a less-than-perfect acoustic piece.

However, seeing Cai Yafang so profoundly touched by a single song from Huang Guolun, they were filled with emotion. This Teacher Huang certainly had some genuine tricks up his sleeve. True to the Zhao sisters' praise of him as a genius, he really was a "pop music killer."

Huang Guolun sat at the piano, separated by a distance from Zhao Jing and Cai Yafang, yet his sharp ears caught the conversation between Cai Yafang and Zhao Jing.

Just like Zhao Jing, he was somewhat surprised to find out that Cai Yafang was already thirty years old.

Looking at her appearance, she truly did not look like a woman of thirty. Zhao Yan was twenty-seven and looked quite youthful, but Cai Yafang looked even more vibrant and youthful than Zhao Yan, resembling a girl in Zhao Jing's age group.

However, upon closer sensing of the aura radiating from Cai Yafang—a steady composure washed clean of worldly artifice, characteristic of music—she must have been a woman who had weathered quite a few storms. She lacked Zhao Yan's fairytale innocence and was even further from Zhao Jing's youthful recklessness.

If one ignored her face and focused solely on her mindset and state of being, she really did resemble a blooming woman of thirty.

At that moment, two versions of "A Woman of Thirty"—one male and one female—surged into Huang Guolun's mind.

He did not know that this song was originally written by Zhao Lei from another world and sung by Tan Weiwei in the female version.

Instead, he assumed it was his own sudden inspiration after observing so many women nearing thirty from the perspective of a social observer.

Thus, he said to Cai Yafang, "I have a melody in my heart dedicated to women of thirty, though I've never sung it before. Today, taking advantage of this opportunity, I'd like to present this song to you. It's called 'A Woman of Thirty'."

"Thank you." No one had ever written a song for her before. This was the first time, and Cai Yafang was deeply moved.

"This song is my personal summary of women in the thirty-year-old age bracket. It stems purely from my personal perceptions and views, with no other implications. If there is anything offensive, please don't mind it. Just think of it as listening to the story of a woman of thirty in my heart."

Cai Yafang nodded with a knowing smile, eager to find out what kind of song Huang Guolun had written for women of their age.

Sentimental girls nearing thirty like Zhao Yan were also full of anticipation for this summary work by Huang Guolun.

Han Yue, who usually remained indifferent to pop music, paid utmost attention to this original creation by Huang Guolun at that moment. She was also a woman whose age began with a three, and she wanted to see how Huang Guolun, this so-called pop music genius, would portray women of their age through song.

The two student fans were thrilled and excited upon hearing that Huang Guolun was going to perform an original piece, and both raised their phones to record Huang Guolun's premiere of his original work.

Everyone in the coffee shop quieted down, watching as Huang Guolun began a desolate-style piano accompaniment.

He prepared to present the female version of "A Woman of Thirty" to Cai Yafang in the style of a male singing a female song, much like Wakin Chau singing "Tomorrow I'm Going to Marry You."

Compared to the male version, the female version of "A Woman of Thirty" was gentler and more moving, making it even more suited for piano and vocals.

The woman in this version of the song also aligned more closely with Huang Guolun's portrayal of a thirty-year-old woman in his heart.

In his view, a thirty-year-old woman, regardless of whether she was single or not, should be one of the brightest landscapes in her life's journey.

If she were a single thirty-year-old woman like Cai Yafang, she would often experience an inexplicable sense of loneliness in the dead of night when dreams returned.

It was a kind of loneliness born of being underestimated.

The blooming and withering of the flowers of youth wearied them; the romantic trysts across the four seasons left them haggard and worn.

The chaos of the world and the churning mortal realm had honed their delicate and soft hearts.

The traces of time were carved not only upon their faces but had settled deeply within their hearts.

At this moment, they were poised, serene, and gentle women, yet they were also the most deeply solitary.

No one cheered for them when their flowers bloomed most brilliantly; there was no audience when their songs were sung most touchingly.

Yet women at this age were precisely the ones who needed a kindred spirit the most.

But who could truly understand a woman of thirty?

Who could resonate with their innermost voice when they were at their loneliest?

To soothe a woman of this age, one needed to be able to truly appreciate their beauty—that inner beauty.

One needed to achieve spiritual communication with them.

Women of this age had many more trivialities in their lives, along with a lingering sense of unwillingness.

Most of the time, they perhaps did not fully understand what their heart's true desire really was.

Sometimes they felt their souls wandering outside their bodies, while at other times they still chased those dreams that were neither flower nor mist.

Only now, there was a clearer outline within the dreams, no longer so wildly out of reach.

And yet, every time they woke from the dream, they would silently shed tears of quiet sorrow.

A thirty-year-old woman could still be brought to tears by listening to a melodious tune, reading a tragic novel, or watching a touching movie.

Perhaps they could not imagine that, even at thirty, they could still be so sentimental.

Yet this was their most authentic self.

They likewise needed love; when exhausted, they needed someone to cherish them; when lonely, someone to keep them company; when helpless, someone to support them.

A thirty-year-old woman might yearn even more for her own spiritual space, a sky that truly belonged to her alone.

When left entirely to themselves, they would still let their minds wander, still nostalgic for those unforgettable past events, missing the few important figures who had once appeared in their lives, including the sweethearts of their youth.

A thirty-year-old woman had been eroded by frost and wind, dampened by rain and dew, yet still cared so deeply about the pristine whiteness of her skirt's hem.

A thirty-year-old woman had lost the shy bashfulness of a young girl and the rosy complexion of youth, but had gained an extra layer of self-confidence and worldly wisdom, an extra measure of maturity and tolerance.

They hovered among joy, grievance, and emotional turbulence.

Yet they would tightly clutch the most beautiful truths of life within their hands, unwilling to let this seed bloom blindly.

They only wished for genuine emotion to be an offering, rather than a selfless love that demanded something in return.

For they knew that a thirty-year-old woman's expectations were too high, leading to too many disappointments; they transitioned from passion to indifference, from hope to disillusionment, from clarity to lostness. After experiencing great joy and deep sorrow, profound awakenings and major realizations, they seemed to no longer be perplexed.

That poetry-like beautiful dream had already drifted away with the wind.

Yet their inner selves grew step-by-step from fragile to strong.

They wanted to imbue themselves with a poised demeanor in handling affairs.

They wanted to maintain a calm and clear mind.

They perhaps should no longer be that "child" who refused to grow up.

They desired an attitude of detachment and tranquility toward life, making people feel that they were forever a story that could never be fully told.

Yet sometimes this story left people sorrowful and weary.

While those plain, ordinary details remained unforgettable.

Amidst the past mists and rains, they no longer waited, no longer allowing themselves to become lost and lonely over a mirage born of a long, drawn-out wait.

They wanted busyness to occupy their everything, to forget their attachments within that rush, letting time dilute a woman's heart.

Yet loneliness always lingered like a shadow.

In a song, a movie, a book, or even an empty night, they could feel a loneliness that devoured their body and mind.

Yet against this, they were utterly helpless.

Regardless, a woman of this age was the one most resembling a flower, the one who best understood how to cherish others, the most brilliant and moving woman, and even one purer than she had been at twenty.

The lonely and touching piano prelude seemed to step right onto the lonely, moving heartstrings of women of this age, and Huang Guolun's weathered voice, laden with life's insights, slowly broke through the air.

In an instant, it diffused that unique flavor of solitary brilliance carried by women of this age:

"I am a woman of thirty / Who has yet to marry to this day / At the corners of my smiling eyes / There are already a few ripples"

"At thirty years old / Radiance and passion have been polished away by time / Is living alone / Really livelier than living as two?"

"I love / The unique gentleness of a thirty-year-old woman / I know / The loneliness in the dead of night is hard to bear"

"You say you've been too busy with work / Before you knew it, thirty years have passed / Picky and selective / Rotating through choices / You choose and choose again..."

Seeming plain and unadorned in its narration, it felt just right due to the high degree of alignment between the theme and the melody.

Its powerful sense of immersion struck straight into the hearts of every woman nearing or approaching thirty, capturing their emotions and thoughts firmly from the very first line Huang Guolun sang.

This psychological sketch of a woman, seemingly ordinary and trivial, actually shone with brilliance, capturing the core creative essence of Big Brother Jonathan Lee.

Without excessive interpretation, music like this—as deep as poetry yet devoid of ornate phrasing—was worthy of making anyone pause and linger.

One didn't even need excessive life experience; listening to such an affectionate melody felt like listening to the heartbeat of a thirty-year-old woman—lonely, alluring, and displaying the full bloom of her youth.

Cai Yafang had cried her eyes out a few days earlier while watching Director Xiaogang's film "Youth." Although she was not from that era and had never experienced its cruelty, she had still been deeply moved by the film.

At the time, she felt that "Youth" must be the best movie she had seen all year, and that no other film, music, or anything else would ever give her such unpretentious spiritual baptism and shocking emotional impact again.

But now, hearing this song by Huang Guolun, she had a premonition that she was about to undergo yet another soul-piercing emotional baptism.

Every single line Huang Guolun sang pointed precisely and perfectly to the depths of her heart.

The further she listened, the more Cai Yafang felt pierced through by this strangely familiar song.

Every pause felt like a blank space left within her own heart.

Her lonely state of mind desperately needed a work like this to fill the void, and so desperately needed a song like this to offer comfort.

"I am a woman of thirty / A woman whose figure has not yet lost its shape / Can such a woman retain a shred of the youthful purity of years past?"

"Yet this world / Sometimes lets appearances decide everything / But no matter how brilliant the looks / They cannot withstand aging"

"I hear / The lonely sound of high heels and your laughter / You can / Find just anyone to lean on"

"Then after the bitter winter / Before scorching summer / Who will give you a love like spring? / After sunset / The most beautiful / Moments have slipped away..."

As the song progressed, everyone in the coffee shop was moved by Huang Guolun's performance of carving a woman's image with time.

Listening to this song, a thirty-year-old woman could hear herself, a twenty-year-old woman could read her future, and a forty-year-old woman could reminisce about her past; it seemed everyone could taste something of their own lives within it.

Men listening to this song would not experience any sense of dislocation or barrier either. Just as Big Brother Jonathan Lee sang, "Crossing the hills, though my hair has turned white; chattering endlessly, the sorrow of a time that waits for no man"—though men and women differed, upon the path of life, their destinations mirrored one another.

A married man could read a woman's hardships through Huang Guolun's words and singing, learning to cherish his wife all the more. An experienced yet unmarried man, such as Tan Shan, could read a sense of sorrow from the song, feeling deeply touched while naturally sharing it as a gift with his own "woman of thirty."

Young boys lacking the life experience to understand the song's nuances, such as Liu Xiaowei, were nonetheless conquered by the touching melody and emotional delivery, because true emotion could move all ages and even all living things.

The profound meaning within this song was worthy of being savored and relished with heart by everyone present.

Huang Guolun's final vocalize at the end of the song sublimated the image of the thirty-year-old woman—

"A thirty-year-old woman / A woman like a flower"

"A thirty-year-old woman / Knows better how to cherish someone"

"A thirty-year-old woman / How brilliant and moving she is"

"A thirty-year-old woman / Is purer than a twenty-year-old woman..."

Listening to this aria, Cai Yafang and Zhao Yan were so overwhelmed by heartfelt emotion that it nearly swallowed them whole. Though it did not bring them to streaming tears, it filled their inner hearts with the fragrant scent of autumn orchids and a thousand swirling thoughts.

Han Yue finally witnessed Huang Guolun's genius stroke firsthand. The grace and elegance, the lonely blossoming of women of their age portrayed by Huang Guolun through music, struck right at her heart.

She remembered the last time a pop song had moved her this deeply was Big Brother's "Hills."

After listening to "Nocturne" and now hearing this "A Woman of Thirty," Han Yue finally found herself unable to view Huang Guolun through colored glasses any longer.

Looking at Huang Guolun anew now, she vaguely felt that this high school teacher playing the piano was crowned with the halo of a genius.