WheeppedintotheeseliteraturecramschoollobbyonNanyangStreetlikeafullyloadedinfantrysoldier,shenaturallydrewmorethanafewfusedlooks.Inthisbattlefieldofacademixietyandink,astudentshowingupwithaninstrumentcaseracticallyanalien.
Cradidn’tcareaboutthestares.Shemovedwithpracticedeasetothebackofthergeandfoundaerseatpressedtightagainstacretepilr.Carefully,sheunloadedtheheavybassandproppeditlyintothedeadangleformedbythepilrandthewall.Theookouthereseliteraturehandouts,asifnothinghadhappeall,andwaitedquietlyforcsstobegin.
Aslongassheheldoutuntilnoon—untildedattwelve—shecouldleavewiththebassonherback,straightfromthere.
Minutebymiimepassed.Whenthenoondismissalbellfinallysoundedovertheinter,Crawasalmostthefirstoofthe.
ShethreadedthroughthecrowdonNanyangStreet,stoppedatthealways-steamingnoodlestaltthealleyentrandquicklyboughtasmallbowlofpinnoodlestogo.Withthesticbagloopedaroundherwrist,sheheadedstraighttothebusstoponZhongxiaoWestRoadandhoppedontoabusboundforXimending.
Atthesametime,intheundergroundrehearsalstudioinXimending—
Theear-splittingdouble-kickdrumpatternandtheviolentdistortiuitarhadjuststopped.Thecrampedroomwasthickwiththesweatysmellofadrenalierahardrun-through.Elianandhisbandmateshadstartedwarmingupearlytoday—rightatnoon.
Thedrummer,Dexter阿潘,twirledhisdrumstick,grabbedatowel,andwipedthesweatfromhishead.HelookedtowardElian—whowastuning—withaworriedfrown.“Yu-Fan宇帆,we’repushingthepadoffast.Thatsophomoreundercssgirlingthisafternoon…shereallykeepup?Thisalsongisn''''''''tsomethingyoufakebyjustthumpingrootnotes.”
“I’mcuriousaboutherleveltoo.”Elianpluckedastring,butinhismindfshedtheyellowedbreathabletapeonCra’srightthumbfromstSundayattheidthedarkredbloodbehit.Hesmiled,histonecarryingatrusthedidn’tevenrealizehehad.“Butshe’satleastasophomorebassinstructor.AndLuLuLuXing-Ze陆星择/-Xing晨星’sthatpridefulsenior-yearinstructor—hewouldn’tpickasuccessorrandomly.”
“Alright.Ifyousayso.”Thevocalist,Enzo小恩,atallboywithshorthair,setthemicrophosstand,stretchedwide,andheadedforthedoor.“ThenI’llgoupstairstothevenieoreandbuylunchdrinks—andgrabsomesnacksfortheafternoonbreak.Waanythingforourtleundercssbassist?”
Elianpaused.
Thatquestionactuallystumpedhim.Thinkingback,Craalwaysseemedindifferentaboutfood.Evenwhenshe’dbeensickwithahighfever,she’dgonehungry—aheyfinallymadeittoMald’s,she’dorderednothingbutasmallfriesthatcostthirty-somethingdolrs.
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