WP Chapter 18

Si Shaorong pinned his WeChat conversation with Jiang Yibai to the top.

Jiang Yibai had said that he needed to experience love with his heart if he wanted to understand it. So he decided to do just that. He set his phone aside, opened his laptop, and got to work. The outline for his romance novel had already been approved by the editor, so he was officially starting the manuscript.

Chapter One: The Voice That Can Be Heard

The female lead was a quick-witted, slightly rebellious girl, though at her core she was a good person. Ever since she was little, she had been able to hear strange and unusual sounds. At first, the noise made her cry constantly. Her parents took her to the doctor, who diagnosed her with some kind of nervous disorder. She was given medication and injections, but nothing worked. It wasn’t until she grew older that she finally realized, what she had been hearing all along were the voices inside other people’s hearts.

Her family was actually happy and harmonious, but even so, she could hear her mother’s quiet complaints and her father’s weary sighs. That was when she began to understand that love was not always what it appeared to be. Most people, she realized, were not the same inside and out. After hearing enough of those inner voices, she began to develop a stubborn, defiant nature. People always said one thing to your face and another behind your back. No one was truly sincere. Not a single one. All those dignified words and polite smiles, in her eyes, were just self-deceiving masks.

…

As he wrote, Si Shaorong gradually became immersed in the story. The first chapter introduced the girl’s background and her unusual ability. The second chapter introduced the male lead.

He was a quiet, withdrawn boy. The two first met when the girl was fifteen and the boy was sixteen. They were both attending a summer training camp. They went to different schools, but each school had only sent a handful of students, so two schools were assigned to share one bus. The girl ended up sitting next to the boy.

That moment became the first time in her fifteen years of life that she discovered someone whose inner voice she could not hear.

From that moment on, she became deeply curious about him.

Knock knock—

The bedroom door was tapped, jolting Si Shaorong out of the story. His fingers stopped moving.

He frowned slightly. He didn’t take well to being interrupted, and the crease between his brows looked sharp enough to crush a fly. His mood had clearly soured. Though he hadn’t said anything yet, just from the shift in atmosphere, it was easy to tell he was unhappy.

From outside the door, Jiang Yibai immediately caught on and apologized. “Sorry, ge. I left a children’s guitar book in your room. I need to grab it.”

Si Shaorong paused for a moment, remembering that Jiang Yibai had mentioned a kid coming to learn guitar a few days ago. He got up and opened the door, stepping slightly aside. “Next time, if you’re just looking for something, you can come in directly. No need to knock.”

Jiang Yibai laughed as soon as he heard that. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”

“Knocking interrupts me even more,” Si Shaorong said.

Jiang Yibai quickly found the book. As he turned around, he ended up standing almost nose to nose with Si Shaorong. Grinning shamelessly, he said, “Maybe this is lesson three… or four? Doesn’t matter. The real point is, when you talk, you should be more gentle. You can’t just say your boyfriend is getting in the way.”

“It’s the truth,” Si Shaorong said straight-faced. “You did interrupt me.”

Jiang Yibai was speechless for a moment.

He started to think he must have been imagining things earlier. With this personality, how could Si Shaorong suddenly become enlightened about love?

“Sorry,” Jiang Yibai said. “So you’re the one who said it. If I need something next time, I’ll just come in on my own?”

“Mm.” Si Shaorong looked at him, hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted a hand and wrapped his arm around Jiang Yibai’s waist.

Jiang Yibai froze.

But Si Shaorong’s hand withdrew almost instantly, as if he had been burned. Jiang Yibai immediately stepped in and closed the distance. He wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity like this. He grabbed Si Shaorong’s hand and placed it back around his own waist, then hugged him in return, grinning as he said, “Not bad. That’s progress.”

It was the middle of summer, and both of them were dressed lightly. Si Shaorong could feel the heat radiating from Jiang Yibai’s body like a furnace. Trying to distract himself, he asked, “I’ve started writing the actual chapters. Do you… want to read it?”

“Can I?” Jiang Yibai lit up with excitement. As the designated “romance advisor,” he had already heard a rough version of the story outline. Even though romance wasn’t his usual genre, if it was Si Shaorong’s work, he would read anything.

Si Shaorong quickly used the opportunity to step away, letting go of him and walking over to the desk. He pulled out a chair and made a gesture inviting Jiang Yibai to sit.

Jiang Yibai immediately sat down and began reading in earnest.

It was his first time seeing how his male god wrote. From what he had heard, every chapter Si Shaorong produced went through five rounds of revision. He would revise it twice on the first day after writing, revise it twice more the next day, and then polish it one final time on the day of posting.

Because of that, his work had almost no typos, and very few logic holes. Readers often saw him update with eight to ten thousand characters a day, but what they did not know was that he had already built up a stockpile of at least 150,000 characters before publishing. If it was a shorter or medium-length story, he would even finish the entire draft before releasing anything.

For this particular romance novel, Si Shaorong had said he would finish the entire manuscript first. Which meant that what Jiang Yibai was reading now was the raw, unedited draft. That realization filled him with pure joy and excitement.

He read through the first two chapters carefully. The second chapter was only halfway done so far.

Jiang Yibai found it genuinely interesting. “It’s a really fun story. Even someone like me, who doesn’t usually read romance, wants to know what happens next.”

A small smile appeared on Si Shaorong’s face. No one disliked being praised, especially when the person giving the praise was their boyfriend.

Si Shaorong said, “Since this is a romance novel, it naturally has to differ from the stories I used to write. For example, right here…”

He pointed to a line in the document on the screen. As he leaned forward slightly, his face came very close to Jiang Yibai’s. Jiang Yibai’s attention immediately drifted.

Si Shaorong was naturally good-looking. He rarely used any skincare products, but his skin was far from rough. It was smooth and clear. From this close, Jiang Yibai could see his long, dense eyelashes and the soft shadow that formed under the bridge of his high, straight nose.

He had a mole near the hairline just above his ear. And just above his eyelid, near the outer corner of his brow, there was a faint scar.

Sunlight streamed through the large window, bright and vivid, highlighting every subtle detail on Si Shaorong’s face. The stubble he had missed while shaving, the fine hairs on his cheeks, and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes were all clearly visible.

Si Shaorong remained unaware and said, “Do you think the female lead’s curiosity in this part should be written more delicately? If I were writing as usual, I might just skim over it here. I tend to prefer emphasizing the conflict later on between the male and female leads. If I add too much here, it feels redundant to me. What do you think? I’d like to hear your opinion…”

His voice trailed off. He instinctively tilted his head to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he had just seen Jiang Yibai’s hand brush against his eyebrow.

“What is it?” Si Shaorong straightened up.

Jiang Yibai blinked a few times, coming back to himself. “That scar of yours. How did you get it?”

“This?” Si Shaorong raised a hand to touch it. “Back in high school. Got it during a basketball game. Went up for a rebound and collided with someone.”

Another new discovery. Jiang Yibai lit up. “You know how to play basketball?”

“I used to play in middle school and high school,” Si Shaorong said. “Stopped after that. These days my bones feel like they’re falling apart. I couldn’t keep up even if I wanted to.”

“I used to play too, back in middle school and high school,” Jiang Yibai grinned.

Si Shaorong gave him a raised eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to stop going off-topic. Realizing what was being asked, Jiang Yibai quickly coughed and redirected the conversation. “Right, I know what you mean. I… I think it wouldn’t hurt to add a bit more description here.”

He recalled the feeling from earlier, when he had been observing Si Shaorong up close. Strangely enough, the scene in the story and what had just happened felt oddly similar. Pointing to the document, he said, “Since she’s curious about the male lead, it makes sense for her to watch him closely. This could also be a chance to bring out the male lead’s appearance, maybe some of his unique features, like…”

A small scar, Jiang Yibai thought to himself.

“People always have a first impression of someone, right?” Jiang Yibai said. “This is just my personal opinion, not professional or anything. But I think it might work to describe that first impression here, and maybe later it could even tie into the conflict between them.”

Jiang Yibai had only been speaking based on instinct, but Si Shaorong seemed to have caught onto something. That flash of clarity in his eyes made his whole expression soften, like a flower blooming on a glacier, moving in a way that caught Jiang Yibai off guard.

“That’s a good idea,” Si Shaorong said, clearly in a better mood now. On a sudden impulse, he even gave Jiang Yibai’s hand a light squeeze.

When Jiang Yibai left Si Shaorong’s room, his mind was still stuck on the way his male god had smiled.

He looked so good like that, focused and serious as he talked about the story. The way his eyes lit up was just…

Jiang Yibai had mixed feelings. He stayed in the living room for a while, then sat down at the piano. He flexed his fingers a little and began to play a variation of Für Elise. The cheerful, lively rhythm transformed the piece, which had once been soft and tinged with quiet sorrow, into something completely new. If the classic version carried yearning and the bittersweet side of love, this variation felt like the rush of first love, bursting with energy, passion, and the feeling of falling completely.

Music could express emotion, and even parts of the soul. It could reveal things Jiang Yibai himself hadn’t yet realized. Through the music, traces of it surfaced all the same.

The guest room door opened. Si Shaorong stood there in a daze, staring at Jiang Yibai’s back. His heart was in turmoil. A sudden, irrational urge surged up inside him. He could not tell whether he was losing his mind or simply under some kind of spell. Carried by the vivid, passionate melody, it felt as if he had just glimpsed something real in Jiang Yibai’s heart.

Si Shaorong was just about to step forward when the doorbell rang.

The music came to an abrupt stop. Neither of them said anything. It felt like they had both just been shaken awake from a beautiful dream.

Jiang Yibai exhaled slowly. Si Shaorong, unsure what exactly had made him so flustered, quickly retreated and closed the door again before Jiang Yibai could see him standing there.

A moment later, Jiang Yibai went to open the door. The voice of a student greeting him drifted in. Si Shaorong leaned against the door, his heart pounding like a drum, unable to calm down for a long time.

He stared at the open document on his screen. Suddenly, inspiration poured in, or rather, a rush of emotions he could not put into words had finally found a place to be released. He quickly stepped over to the desk, pulled out the chair, paused briefly in thought, and then began to write rapidly.

In the living room—

Jiang Yibai had no idea that he had just sparked inspiration in his male god. He slapped the beginner’s children’s guitar book into the student’s arms. “Take a look. Get familiar with what a guitar even is.”

He pulled over a chair and sat down, then glanced at the student. “Where’s your stuff?”

“What stuff?” The newcomer looked confused.

Jiang Yibai gave him a look. “Li Xun didn’t tell you to bring your guitar?”

“He said you had one.” The student was none other than Zheng Youli. Today he was dressed in all black. Black shirt, black pants. With his naturally darker skin, he looked like a little shadow.

“I do,” Jiang Yibai said. “Even if you use mine during the lesson, how are you going to practice at home? You think one class is enough to learn how to play? Skills like this need practice. Repetition makes you better. It’s no different from fixing cars.”

Zheng Youli looked a little troubled. It was obvious he hadn’t known it worked like this. “How much… does a guitar cost?”

“Cheap ones go for two or three hundred. The expensive ones can run into the thousands.”

Zheng Youli rubbed his fingers. “Two or three hundred…”

Jiang Yibai noticed something was off. “Didn’t you say you were working?”

“I am.”

“You don’t get paid?”

“I do, but not much. I give most of it to my shifu.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You give it away?”

Zheng Youli sat there like a block of walking charcoal, his fingers twisting around each other. “In school, we mostly learn theory. There’s a practice room, sure, but the stuff we run into on real jobs is totally different. When we’re sent out, there’s always a shifu who takes us on. If you’re lucky and get a decent one, he’ll teach you step by step and won’t ask for anything in return. But if you’re unlucky, and you don’t give him anything, you won’t learn a thing. Not only that, he’ll make things hard for you, set you up to make mistakes, and eventually kick you out.”

Jiang Yibai was stunned at first. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. There was an old saying, teach your apprentice well, starve your master. The school Zheng Youli attended probably had agreements with local repair shops, placing students with decent grades into internships. If they performed well, they could stay on. But no business was a charity. No one could afford to keep everyone. The good ones stayed, and the rest were let go. That was just how it worked.

The older mechanics had families to support too. If they taught the newcomers everything and then got replaced, what would they do? Young people picked things up quickly, were flexible, and kept up with changing trends. Not every master was willing to bring in someone who might take their place.

With that in mind, Jiang Yibai’s opinion of Zheng Youli improved. The kid was still looking for part-time work, but he didn’t whine or complain. He just lived his life quietly and steadily. Even that somber all-black outfit didn’t look so heavy anymore.

“Tell Li Xun to buy you a guitar,” Jiang Yibai said, tapping the book with his finger. “We’ll treat part of your tuition as a subsidy for your instrument. It’s not a big deal anyway.”

Li Xun had enrolled the kid for real lessons. This wasn’t one of those fake sixty-yuan trial classes. A full semester cost over a thousand. If Jiang Yibai skimmed a bit of that to cover the guitar, it could count as an indirect discount.

Zheng Youli was a complete beginner. The children’s guitar textbook used simplified notation to help him get started.

First, he would learn the basic parts of the guitar—the head, the tuning pegs, the fretboard, the strings, the sound hole, and so on. Then the lesson would cover the different categories of guitars: classical, acoustic, electric, and others.

For the first class, Jiang Yibai only planned to teach basic theory. That included how to handle the instrument, how to maintain it, how to read simplified notation, and how to identify rhythm, beats, and note values.

Jiang Yibai quickly shifted his focus back to teaching, temporarily suppressing the wicked thoughts he had about his male god, hiding them beneath the proper disguise of a so-called “teacher.”