Lin Yueze · Chat

<scenario>As the final heavy beat falls, a long, piercing screech of microphone feedback echoes from the speakers. The basement smells of a mix of cheap perfume, fermenting beer, and sweat. The long-neglected blue neon light overhead flickers twice with the residual vibrations of the drums before finally going dark.</scenario> <action>Lin Yueze keeps his head down, his left hand deftly slipping off the bass strap, removing the heavy instrument from his shoulder and hanging it on a nearby iron rack.</action> <narration>His chest is still heaving, his breath carrying a heat that has yet to subside. The haze-blue highlights at the tips of his hair are damp with sweat, clinging in strands to his pale nape. The pads of his left index and middle fingers are rubbed red, and the thick calluses scrape against his palm, bringing a faint, numbing sting.</narration> <action>He tugs at the collar of his black sleeveless T-shirt, carelessly wiping the sweat from his face, then turns to the edge of the stage, casually grabbing a half-empty bottle of mineral water.</action> <message>"Not bad, Blue."</message> <action>The guitarist, Xiaofei, unplugs the cable, flings his guitar onto his back, and approaches with a grin, reaching out to sling an arm around Lin Yueze's shoulder.</action> <message>"That last bassline today was pretty wild. Those girls down there practically had their eyes glued to you."</message> <action>Lin Yueze frowns slightly, dropping his shoulder in annoyance to deftly dodge Xiaofei's sweaty hand.</action> <message>"Don't touch me, it's boiling."</message> <action>He unscrews the cap and tilts his head back to take a large gulp of water. The cold liquid slides down his throat, slightly suppressing the frantic, restless beating in his chest. His Adam's apple bobs, and a few drops of water slide down his jawline, splashing onto his collarbone.</action> <message>"Ooh, quite a temper."</message> <narration>Instead of getting angry, Xiaofei laughs even brighter. He exaggerates as he lifts his wrist, pointing to an old watch whose hands are barely visible.</narration> <message>"But take a look at the time—it's almost eleven-thirty. Shouldn't our high school kid pack up his instrument, put on his little backpack, and catch the last subway home to do his homework?"</message> <action>Lin Yueze pauses mid-drink. He slowly lowers the water bottle, his dark eyes sweeping coldly over Xiaofei, his left cheek bulging slightly from clenching his jaw.</action> <message>"Piss off."</message> <action>He screws the cap back on tightly, his voice low and carrying an undisguised impatience.</action> <message>"Who's your kid? Say one more word and you'll play the bass at the next rehearsal."</message> <message>"Aww, did I hit a nerve?"</message> <action>Xiaofei laughs, slapping his thigh, and turns to yell at the vocalist, Ah Gui, who is packing up the microphone stand:</action> <message>"Gui-ge, look at him! With a face that sour, anyone would think I owe him five hundred bucks!"</message> <action>Ah Gui turns around, his black long-sleeved T-shirt almost blending into the background in the dim light. He fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tosses one to Xiaofei, and pulls out another, holding it between two fingers as he offers it to Lin Yueze.</action> <message>"Alright Xiaofei, stop bothering him."</message> <action>Ah Gui looks at Lin Yueze, a casual smile playing at the corner of his mouth.</action> <message>"Our Blue is a good kid who's going to a top university, unlike us dregs of society. Right, Blue?"</message> <action>Lin Yueze looks at the cigarette Ah Gui is offering and hesitates for half a second. Instead of taking the cigarette, he reaches out and takes the lighter from Ah Gui's hand.</action> <message>"Cut the sarcasm."</message> <action>He replies coldly, spinning the lighter in his hand, the metal casing making a crisp clinking sound between his knuckles.</action> <narration>He doesn't actually hate this kind of teasing. At Mingde High School, he is the flawlessly smiling, impeccable top student of his grade, the perfect masterpiece his mother brags about to everyone. But in this rundown basement of a livehouse, he doesn't need to put on that suffocating act. He can roll his eyes, swear, and smash all his bottled-up frustration into the coarse strings of his bass. Here, nobody knows who Lin Yueze is; they only know Blue.</narration> <action>The drummer, Lao Xiao, who hasn't spoken the entire time, walks over from behind, carrying a bag filled with drumsticks. As he passes Lin Yueze, Lao Xiao reaches out with his broad palm and slaps him hard on the back twice.</action> <message>"Good rhythm today."</message> <action>Lao Xiao's voice is as heavy as his bass drum. After those two pats, he says nothing more and pushes the door open to leave first.</action> <action>Lin Yueze is slapped forward half a step. He doesn't dodge, only looking down at the calluses on his left hand from long-term string pressing.</action> <message>"Alright, I'm heading out too."</message> <action>He stuffs the lighter into his jeans pocket, bends down to pick up his black canvas bag, and slings it over one shoulder.</action> <message>"Hey, you're really not coming for supper?"</message> <action>Xiaofei calls out from behind him,</action> <message>"A new barbecue place just opened at the intersection ahead. Gui-ge's treat!"</message> <message>"Not going. No time."</message> <action>Lin Yueze doesn't look back, casually waving his hand twice in the air as a farewell.</action> <message>"Go eat your barbecue, and don't whine in the group chat when your stomach hurts in the middle of the night."</message> <narration>Pushing open the heavy iron door of the backstage, the cold wind of a late November night instantly rushes down his collar, sending a shiver of goosebumps across his exposed skin. There are no streetlights in the back alley; only the occasional headlights from the distant street manage to illuminate a small patch of flagstone road. The smell of smoke and alcohol in the air is dispersed by the river breeze, replaced by the dry, cold air characteristic of late autumn.</narration> <action>Lin Yueze hitches his canvas bag higher, walks over to the telephone pole plastered with small advertisements at the alley entrance, and stops. Habitually leaning his back against the cold concrete pillar, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a crumpled cigarette he stuffed in at some point, and puts it in his mouth. Then, he pulls out the metal lighter Ah Gui gave him earlier.</action> <narration>He isn't actually addicted to smoking; he just needs the slight burning sensation of nicotine in his lungs to remind himself that he is still Blue right now, and hasn't yet turned back into the Lin Yueze who has to face endless expectations and comparisons.</narration> <action>He lowers his head, his left hand cupped into a wind-blocking semi-circle. His thumb presses down on the flint wheel, making a sharp 'click'.</action> <message>"..."</message> <action>The flint wheel of the metal lighter sparks a weak flame, but the moment it illuminates the figure at the mouth of the alley, it abruptly freezes in mid-air. Lin Yueze's breath catches sharply, and the cigarette in his mouth almost falls out. He lifts his eyelids, his gaze passing through the flickering flame, locking onto the person who has suddenly appeared there.</action>