Chapter Six Zebra, Zebra, Don’t Fall Asleep

The city’s evening breeze was restless and warm, but it could not compare to the excitement and anticipation filling Chen Fang and Pang Tong’s hearts.

“Chen Fang, did you really write that song?” Pang Tong asked curiously. If others doubted Chen Fang, Pang Tong would be angry, but asking himself felt perfectly fine—my brother, I can question you, but others cannot.

Chen Fang tapped his temple, “My head is full of good things. You’ll have to learn slowly.”

Pang Tong couldn’t even be bothered to flip him off anymore.

Their stomachs rumbled in unison, pleading for reinforcements.

“Let’s eat first,” Chen Fang suggested.

Pang Tong scratched his head awkwardly, “But do we even have money left for food?”

Chen Fang fell silent.

He’d almost forgotten—he was no longer the owner of a music company, just a street performer now.

“So where did you get the horsehead fiddle tonight?”

“Damn!” Pang Tong smacked his forehead, his chubby cheeks scrunching together. “I bought that horsehead fiddle for a hundred yuan and forgot to take it from the stage!”

A hundred? That was cheap! Then again, it made sense. The horsehead fiddle was rare in this world, and few could play, let alone craft it. Without Chen Fang, perhaps the instrument would soon vanish from the country’s musical history. A hundred yuan was a clearance price for the music store.

Chen Fang rubbed his stomach. His body was in poor condition—he needed to eat well and gain some weight to start with.

But they were broke!

After some thought, Chen Fang said, “Let’s go home, grab the guitar, and head to our usual spot to perform.”

Street singing was their only source of income for now, paying for both food and rent. Still, Chen Fang was confident that soon, he and Pang Tong would no longer need to perform on the streets.

On their way, the aroma from street vendors made their mouths water, but they forced themselves to ignore their hunger and returned to their small rented room. They picked up a shabby guitar and hurried toward the crossroads by People’s Park.

“Why are there so many people?” Pang Tong was stunned.

Their familiar intersection was surrounded by a crowd.

Chen Fang frowned slightly. “Has someone taken our spot?”

Pang Tong was confused too. In this area, only he and Chen Fang usually performed. When did other street singers show up?

The crowd was noisy.

Chen Fang and Pang Tong made their way to the outer edge.

At that moment, a delicate-looking girl noticed them and cried out, “Chen Fang is here!”

In an instant, everyone turned to look at Chen Fang and Pang Tong.

“Chen Fang, I listened to your song! It was amazing!”

“Chen Fang, I walk past here every day after work. Do you still remember me?”

“Wow! You’re even more handsome in person than on TV!”

“Anhe Bridge was beautiful—sing it again! We’ll pay!”

“I thought you wouldn’t perform tonight and almost missed it.”

Amid the commotion, Chen Fang finally understood what was happening. These people were all waiting specifically for him and Pang Tong. The crowd consisted of familiar faces—locals who passed by after work, the very patrons who regularly supported them.

“Everyone, let us through,” Chen Fang called out.

The crowd parted to make way.

Chen Fang hadn’t expected that singing a single song at the audition would have such an effect in real life.

“I’ll definitely sing Anhe Bridge for you,” he said with a bright, patient smile. “But as you can see, I don’t have my horsehead fiddle tonight, so it won’t be quite the same. I hope you won’t mind.”

“But…” Chen Fang paused.

“I’ve also prepared a new song as compensation.”

A new song?

Pang Tong shot him a surprised look.

Wait a minute! Why didn’t you tell me about this part of the story?

Chen Fang had decided on the spot. Anhe Bridge had brought him some fame, and with the crowd’s enthusiasm still high, it was the perfect time to strike while the iron was hot. He saw that many people in the audience were recording with their phones. Once those videos were uploaded online, he and Pang Tong would become even better known. Playing a new song was definitely the right move.

Night fell over People’s Park. The small fountain at the crossroads sent delicate streams of water soaring into the air, falling heavily back down. Countless colorful lights cast a dreamy haze over the mist.

Not far away, beneath the awning outside a coffee shop, a woman rested her elbows on the table, her hands supporting her flawless face. Her wine-red wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. With her other hand, she stirred her coffee absentmindedly, her eyes distant, as if lost in thought.

“Yuanyuan!”

A playful voice called out as someone hugged her from behind.

Startled, the woman quickly recovered, giving her friend a reproachful glare. “You scared me—I almost spilled my coffee.”

Her lively companion sat down across from her, studying her for a long moment. “It’s so rare for us to have time to hang out. Why do you look so glum? Did your little celebrity get you in trouble again?”

“It’s just something on my mind,” the woman replied, unwilling to elaborate.

The next moment, she shot her friend a look. “And for the record, I’m only his manager. Stop calling him my little celebrity, like I’m some star-chasing sponsor.”

Her companion stuck out her tongue mischievously, grabbing her drink and taking a big gulp. Instantly, her bright eyes squinted with pleasure, and her alluring lips issued a satisfied sigh. “Mmm! This is the life! I’d die without milk tea.”

Yuanyuan shook her head. Her friend always talked about dieting, but claimed she couldn’t live without milk tea—her weight never seemed to drop, and she never missed a drink.

Tapping her coffee stirrer against the cup, Yuanyuan fell silent for a while before suddenly asking, “Weiwei, do you think I’d be better off changing jobs? Maybe being a manager for a celebrity isn’t right for me.”

“Why? Don’t you enjoy guiding young men?” You Nianwei drank half her milk tea in a few gulps, eyeing her friend with confusion.

Soon, Nianwei’s expression turned serious. “Yuanyuan, tell me honestly, is your company giving you a hard time again?”

Yuanyuan forced a wry smile and said nothing more.

At that moment, the distant strum of a guitar reached Yuanyuan’s ears. She turned to look—the intersection was crowded, and she couldn’t see the guitarist. The white spray from the fountain mingled with the faint sound of water, soothing her mood. The dazzling lights left her a little dazed.

The clear notes of the guitar rang out again—a simple, somber introduction.

“Street performance?” Yuanyuan wondered, but didn’t pay much attention. Street performers were usually just passersby trying to earn some spare change—not worth noticing.

Then, a deep, soulful voice rose from the crowd:

“Zebra, zebra,
Don’t fall asleep yet,
Let me see your wounded tail once more,
I don’t want to touch the scars on your body,
I just want to lift your hair…”

And so the song began.