Chapter 20: A Good Deed Each Day

Thinking that Mr. Huang was about to lecture her, Bai Yao took the initiative to speak first: “Mr. Huang, I know what you want to say to me. I understand all the arguments, so there’s no need to repeat them. As for what I do in my spare time, that’s my own business, and I don’t want outsiders interfering. I can assure you that whatever I do won’t affect my studies.”

“I’m not here to talk about that,” Huang replied. “Don’t worry. I can pretend I never saw you at the Drum Tower, nor saw you singing in a bar. I’m not concerned that your extracurricular activities will affect your studies. I actually want to talk to you about something proper.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s go. We can talk in the car; it’s parked just ahead.”

Huang was worried those two troublemaking musicians might return, so he wanted Bai Yao to get in the car.

Bai Yao hesitated, puzzled by why he insisted on talking in the car. Previously, the lead singer of the Toxic Corpses, Shi Zhiyong, had also invited her to talk in his car, and it nearly ended badly. Now, being invited by another older man, Bai Yao couldn’t help but be cautious.

After all, Mr. Huang was infamous at their school for being caught reading illicit books in the office, confiscated from students. Such a teacher—might he have some perverse tendencies?

Suspicion rising in her heart, Bai Yao didn’t follow Huang.

Huang walked a few steps and noticed Bai Yao wasn’t keeping up. Looking back, he saw her standing still.

It was a night heavy with looming clouds.

A cold wind swept through.

The dim streetlight cast its glow directly on Bai Yao, illuminating half her body and leaving the other half in shadow, divided by her delicate nose—like a cinematic close-up, highlighting her ambiguous, complex nature.

Her outfit tonight was also half black, half white—black below, white above, not left and right. Whether by preference or coincidence, her look was exactly the same as when Huang saw her at the boat bar. She still wore those low-waisted black jeans and steel-toed black boots. Above, a tight white sports tank top, and over it, a cool white leather jacket left open.

With her figure and style, anyone unfamiliar would take her for a rebellious young rocker in her twenties.

“Why are you spacing out? Come on!” Huang beckoned to her.

“Mr. Huang, whatever you have to say, say it here.”

Huang stepped back and whispered, “Let’s talk in the car. It’s freezing out here. I actually didn’t call the police; I was bluffing those two punks. Better not give them a chance to come back looking for us.”

Bai Yao still hesitated and spoke bluntly: “Mr. Huang, I won’t accept any teacher-student romance, nor any shady money deals. I’m not a weak girl, so you’d better not get any ideas about me.”

“What are you thinking? I’m not that kind of person! Get in the car, quickly. I’ll take you home, and we can talk along the way.”

As he spoke, Huang glanced nervously at the row of stalls behind Bai Yao, genuinely worried those two troublemakers might return.

Having clarified things, Bai Yao felt a bit more at ease and got in the car with Huang.

She hadn’t realized before that Huang was from a wealthy family; she'd always thought he was just an ordinary music teacher. But once she was inside his million-dollar private car, she realized how much Huang must earn from private tutoring to afford such a vehicle!

Huang started the car and pulled onto the main road, asking, “Where do you live?”

“East Caofang Alley.”

“How do I get there?” The name was unfamiliar to Huang.

“It’s just east of Drum Tower. Head toward Drum Tower East Street, then just drop me off by the roadside. Your car won’t fit down the alley to my house.”

“Alright.”

Huang drove toward Drum Tower East Street and asked, “You have a grandfather at home, right?”

Bai Yao’s face darkened, and after a few seconds, she answered in a hoarse, subdued voice: “My grandfather passed away last year.”

Huang felt awkward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Bai Yao said, trying to sound breezy. “Birth, aging, illness, and death—it’s just part of life.”

“So you live alone now?”

“Mm.”

“Then you shouldn’t go home tonight. Those two punks said they know where you live. They might go there looking for trouble.” Huang thought for a moment. “Do you have any other relatives? I could take you to stay with them.”

“I have no relatives.”

“What about friends?”

“I don’t have any friends either.”

Huang’s questions made Bai Yao feel a little embarrassed. She knew it wasn’t safe to go home tonight, so she said, “Just drop me at any McDonald’s. I can make do there for the night.”

“McDonald’s? Better not. I’ll find you a hotel.”

“I won’t stay in a hotel. I have no money, and I don’t need yours. Just drop me at McDonald’s. There’s one on Drum Tower East Street, right at the intersection. I often make do there, so don’t worry.”

“You often sleep at McDonald’s? Why?”

Bai Yao didn’t understand why Huang would ask—wasn’t it obvious? Of course, “Because it’s warm.”

Huang was struck by this. He hadn’t realized Bai Yao lived so hard, relying on McDonald’s for heat. It was shocking.

He’d always come from a privileged background, never worried about food or shelter, but he knew many people struggled. He hadn’t expected someone so close to him—a solitary female student—to live this way. It stirred his compassion.

There are always people who bring warmth to the hopeless and helpless.

Because of his unique family background, the Huangs had a tradition of helping others—not for any reason but peace of mind. The old Huang often invited masters to help guide him spiritually; whether they were real or not, any credible one would share the same advice: do a good deed daily.

The good you do may not immediately return to you, but no matter how many lifetimes you live, those deeds follow you, ultimately helping you avert danger.

Influenced by family, both Huang Guokun and Huang Guolun had that inclination to help others.

Now, seeing Bai Yao trapped in hardship, entangled with troublesome punks, Huang worried this brilliant student might sink deeper and ruin herself.

He decided to help her.

He drove in silence for a while.

Taking the initiative, Huang didn’t drive onto Drum Tower East Street but instead turned right onto Di’anmen Outer Street, then onto Di’anmen West Street, heading west toward Xisi.

Bai Yao noticed the direction was toward their school and asked, “Where are you headed? You’re not taking me back to school at this hour, are you?”

“No, not to school. To my house.”

“To your house?”

“Don’t overthink it. I’m not the perverted teacher who only reads dirty books, as your classmates joke, nor am I pitying you. I want to invite you to my place to help record a song. Your voice is unique and fits the mood of my piece perfectly. It’s not just a favor—I’ll pay you.”

Hearing there was payment, Bai Yao’s resistance eased and she asked, “How much?”

“This song might become the theme for a web movie. Regardless, as long as you record it and I’m satisfied, I’ll pay you the standard rate.”

“Alright, I’ll take the job. But what’s the standard rate?”

When it came to money, Bai Yao was very pragmatic.

She had no choice—her grandfather’s ashes were still at home. She needed to settle his affairs soon. Over the past year, she’d worked hard singing for money, trying to save as much as possible so she could buy her grandfather a peaceful burial plot, so he could rest comfortably.

In life, he was treated like an unwanted insect, his existence humble and full of struggle.

Now that he’d passed on, Bai Yao didn’t want her grandfather to be looked down upon anymore.

She was determined to buy him the most luxurious grave, so that he could enjoy unrivaled comfort in the afterlife.

Huang felt slightly awkward when asked about the price. “I don’t actually know the exact rate, it’s my first time doing this. But I promise you’ll be paid fairly.”

“Alright, I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

Huang’s casual “thank you” made Bai Yao feel a sense of equality—a working partnership, not a teacher-student hierarchy.

Huang fell silent again, driving on.

There was no music playing, and the car seemed unusually quiet.

At last Bai Yao spoke first: “Don’t you want to know why I got into a conflict with those people earlier?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to know; it’s just that even if I asked, you might not answer or might think I’m meddling. So I’d rather not ask.”

His attitude made Bai Yao smile faintly and reply in her raspy voice, “There’s nothing I can’t tell…”

She then explained to Huang, in the simplest terms, the grudge between herself and the Toxic Corpses.

Perhaps she didn’t want Huang to misunderstand her as some rebellious, fallen girl.

In truth, she wasn’t. She might have a rebellious streak, but she’d never lost her way.

She had a clear direction in life, always purposeful in her actions.

She sang at Houhai to earn money for her grandfather’s burial, nothing else.

She was introduced into the music scene by a neighbor who thought her voice was distinctive.

Before entering the circle, she knew nothing about music, nor was she particularly fond of it.

But because singing paid quickly, she worked hard to learn music and performance.

With her extraordinary learning ability—and an even more remarkable voice—she quickly carved out a small niche among Houhai’s singers.

She entered the scene only to make money. She never wanted to be a professional singer, nor did she intend to do it long-term. Once she saved enough, she’d leave immediately.

Her independent personality meant she never built relationships in the circle, nor did she care to make friends. If she could cooperate with others for money, she would; if not, everyone went their own way.

Unfortunately, while she didn’t bother others, others always had designs on her.

The Toxic Corpses’ lead singer, Shi Zhiyong, was just such a rogue musician who actively sought to entangle Bai Yao.