Chapter 4: A Guitar and a Sunny Day

That September at the start of the millennium, besides Jay Chou songs playing on repeat in every street, there was a craze in the air that struck fear into the hearts of elementary schoolers everywhere.

After-school classes and extracurricular lessons.

Parents of the time had just begun to taste the benefits of the economic boom, and a collective anxiety was quietly spreading: their children couldn’t be allowed to fall behind at the starting line.

Whether you lived in a state-owned enterprise compound or an apartment building for government employees’ families, the first thing adults asked each other on weekends was bound to be, “What classes did you sign your kid up for?”

Naturally, on my first weekend after transferring schools, Mom pulled the covers off me.

“Fang Luo, get up and brush your teeth! We’re going to the Children’s Palace to sign you up today!”

I sat up in bed, my hair a bird’s nest, and let out a long sigh.

Elementary schoolers had no rights, and certainly no freedom on weekends.

Even if I was mentally a grown man, in this house I still had to obey my parents.

Not that I could really blame them. They were my parents, and I cherished them. I’d given them plenty to worry about in my previous life. This time, I should listen to them more.

I’d been reborn for a week and was gradually accepting my life as an elementary schooler, trying to live in this world with an optimistic attitude.

Anyway, there I was.

The sun was blazing, and the hall of the County Children’s Palace was packed and as noisy as a market.

Red banners hung everywhere: advanced Olympiad math, Cambridge English for children, taekwondo, penmanship, abacus mental arithmetic, piano, accordion…

The registration hall was positively overflowing.

Mom pulled me from booth to booth, then pointed at a black piano. “How about piano? Look how elegant and refined the people playing it on TV are!”

I glanced at the densely packed musical notation and shook my head like a rattle drum.

I’d typed until I got tendonitis in my previous life, and now she wanted me to sit on a piano bench practicing Czerny every day?

Spare me, Mom.

“What about taekwondo?” Dad suggested, taking a drink from his insulated cup. “Ha! It’ll make you strong, and nobody at school will bully you.”

The image immediately formed in my head: tumbling on mats every day, shouting “Ha! Hah!” and kicking boards, drenched in sweat.

That didn’t sound leisurely enough either.

I rejected it without mercy.

After we’d wandered around some more, my eyes landed on a booth in the corner with a wooden guitar propped up beside it. The poster showed a cool guy with shoulder-length hair holding an acoustic guitar against a backdrop of autumn leaves on a street.

“That one,” I said, pointing.

Dad blinked. “Guitar? Isn’t that what street performers use to—”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s music too. Haven’t they been talking about folk music lately?” Mom cut off his old-fashioned prejudice.

As an elementary schooler, all I could do was express my wishes with a serious look.

There was no profound reason for choosing it. Guitars were easy to carry and made looking cool cheap. Most of all, in my previous life I’d genuinely practiced in college to show off at the welcome party. I’d even placed in the top three of the campus’s top-ten singers competition.

If I signed up for this class, I could slack off openly and think about life…

Not that there was much to think about.

What troubles could an elementary schooler have?

Seeing how determined I was, my parents paid 280 yuan on the spot for twenty lessons.

Afterward, Dad took me straight to the county’s only music shop and spent a whopping 300 yuan on a Hongmian acoustic folk guitar with a solid top.

As I carried the heavy guitar bag on my back, the casual indifference I’d felt turned into a weight of gratitude.

My parents scrimped on themselves, but they never hesitated when it came to spending money on me.

Sunday morning soon arrived: the first lesson of the Children’s Palace beginner guitar class.

At the front, the old guitar teacher spoke enthusiastically about tablature and how to hold the instrument. Below him, a group of eight- and nine-year-olds grimaced under the heavy bodies of their guitars. Pressing the steel strings hurt their fingers so much that they cried for their mothers, demanding refunds and refusing to practice.

Meanwhile, my fingertips moved gently across the strings as I played through a basic C major scale with precision.

Ah, a familiar feeling.

The teacher made a couple of rounds, saw my proper posture and rock-steady rhythm, and promptly decided I was a musical prodigy who came along once in a century.

He patted my shoulder, told me to practice on my own, and turned to rescue the other wailing little monsters.

During the twenty-minute break, the classroom was noisy. I wandered into the corridor, planning to get some air in the courtyard garden. It was hot cooped up inside.

September sunlight fell in patches across a wooden bench in the courtyard.

I sat beneath the trellis to cool off and closed my eyes.

This was a comfortable way to rest.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when a soft voice called out in surprise, “Fang Luo?”

I turned to find a little girl standing beside me in an off-white cotton dress. Her smooth black hair hung over her shoulders, and she carried a delicate cloth bag for brushes and ink.

Wen Shuyao.

She seemed to have just come out of class for some air too. A fine sheen of sweat covered her fair forehead, and a few loose strands of hair clung beside her ears. Everything about her had a gentle, tranquil quality.

Unlike my deskmate Chu Hanya, who acted like a miniature adult, Wen Shuyao was quiet in a purely girlish way. She was very calm, with no trace of awkwardness in her eyes, only a natural friendliness.

But ultimately, she was still an elementary schooler.

How did kids normally greet each other when they met at the Children’s Palace?

I racked my brains, then decided to be friendly. “You’re at the Children’s Palace too?”

I shifted a little on the bench. A very little.

Forgive me, I still didn’t know how children greeted each other. In the adult world, a gesture like that was usually just politeness. Hardly anyone actually stayed; you’d say hello and go your separate ways.

But clearly children operated by a different logic.

“Mm-hmm.” She smiled sweetly, gathered her skirt, and sat down beside me without hesitation, pushing me farther along the bench.

Uh, I thought I’d brushed against her skirt.

She pointed to the cloth bag in her hand. “My parents signed me up for brush calligraphy. It’s on the third floor.”

“That explains it.” I pretended to understand and forced myself through the small talk. “I saw your handwriting on the first day of school. Your name was the neatest and prettiest in the class. So you’d practiced calligraphy.”

At the compliment, Wen Shuyao’s long eyelashes fluttered, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks.

“Not really… The teacher always says my brushstrokes aren’t forceful enough.”

Huh. I’d only been making polite conversation. In the adult world, you couldn’t go wrong complimenting whatever someone did. It was perfectly normal small talk. In fact, I’d never even seen her write.

Were kids bad at polite exchanges? Maybe that was one of those mature, obscure adult habits.

After answering, Wen Shuyao studied the big red guitar in my arms, her eyes full of curiosity and longing.

“Fang Luo, you signed up for guitar? That’s amazing… It looks so big.”

“It’s all right. Just passing the time.” I plucked a string, producing a clear open note.

Wen Shuyao cupped her chin in both hands and blinked at me. “Fang Luo, could you play something for me now? I’ve never heard anyone play guitar in real life. The people who play on TV look so cool.”

I hesitated at her expectant expression.

If the chubby boy or one of the other boys in class had egged me on, I’d have told him to go play in the dirt. But this was a gentle, sweet little classmate, and she’d helped zip up my Digimon schoolbag before.

It was a small request I could easily grant.

As the old saying went, a drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring. I didn’t like spicy snacks enough to give her some, so this would do.

“Sure. I just finished tuning it. Let me show you what I can do.”

I adjusted my posture and settled the guitar securely on my right leg, my left hand on the neck and my fingertips resting lightly on the strings.

What should I play?

The complicated fingerstyle pieces from my previous life would be too difficult with these short nine-year-old hands. A melody turned in my head, and I found myself thinking of the song I’d heard outside the little shop last night.

My right index finger and thumb alternated gently, plucking the bass and treble strings with practiced ease.

The acoustic guitar sounded clear, a little wistful, yet bright.

Chords flowed out into the sunlight.

The introduction to “Sunny Day.”

I’d practiced the melody thousands of times on the college lawn in my previous life. Even in a child’s body, the rhythm was still etched into my bones.

I cleared my throat softly and began to sing with the guitar’s beat, my voice still a child’s, unchanged but clear:

“♫ The little yellow flower in the story has drifted since the year I was born…”

“♫ The childhood swing keeps swaying in my memories to this day…”

A breeze brushed overhead, and dappled sunlight fell across the guitar and my fingertips.

Wen Shuyao listened quietly, her eyes fixed on my hands. Her gentle gaze gradually filled with delighted surprise.

“…♫ On that windy day, I tried to hold your hand, but the rain grew so heavy I could no longer see you ♫…”

“…♫ Re So So Si Do Si La, So La Si Si Si Si La Si La So ♫…”

After the chorus, I pressed my right palm lightly against the strings and cut off the last overtones.

Done.

Silence held for a full three seconds.

Clap, clap, clap!

Wen Shuyao applauded like an enthusiastic fan, her voice full of undisguised admiration. “Oh my gosh, Fang Luo! That was so beautiful!”

She was almost incoherent, her long hair swaying over her shoulders as she moved excitedly. “You’re… you’re amazing! What’s the song called? The melody is wonderful! And you sing it even better than the cassette!”

Then she looked at me as though meeting me all over again. “The boys in class all say you’re really aloof and hard to approach. Even Chu Hanya says you’re an arrogant transfer student… But you’re not scary at all, and you sing so gently!”

Keep it together. People in this era didn’t use words like Jiahao and Sasuke for this kind of thing yet, or I’d definitely have been stuck with one of those labels.

Anyway, back to the present.

Her sincere praise left me awkward and, strangely, a little embarrassed in a way I hadn’t felt for a long time.

When you were used to insincere compliments in the adult world, a little girl’s wholehearted praise could hit surprisingly hard.

“…Keep it quiet.” I shook my head helplessly. “I’m not that good. Don’t broadcast it to the whole class.”

“I won’t! It’s our secret!”

Wen Shuyao smiled, then suddenly seemed to remember something. She rummaged in the cloth bag holding her calligraphy supplies and produced a small chocolate wrapped in gold foil, offering it to me with both hands.

“Here, this is for you!”

I blinked. “What’s this?”

“Dove hazelnut chocolate. My aunt brought it back from the provincial capital.” She looked as serious as if she were presenting a medal. “It’s your reward!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Wait… Why am I getting a reward all of a sudden?”

I wasn’t a kindergartner.

“Because you play so beautifully! Of course you deserve a reward for such a lovely song!”

Without waiting for an answer, Wen Shuyao took my hand and pressed the chocolate, still faintly warm from her palm, into it. Like a little adult, she instructed me, “You have to keep practicing guitar. If you learn a new song, play it for me next time! Taking extra lessons at the Children’s Palace is actually pretty boring…”

Just then, the shrill bell calling everyone back to class sounded from the building.

“Oh! Class is starting. I have to get back to calligraphy!”

She hurriedly picked up her little cloth bag, stood, and waved at me, her smile in the sunlight as bright as a blooming daisy.

“Bye, Fang Luo!”

Then she trotted toward the classroom building with the light, cheerful steps of a kitten.

I watched her go, then looked down at the gold-wrapped chocolate in my palm, its faint cocoa scent drifting up to me.

She was a quiet girl, thoughtful and romantic, with a natural artistic air in every movement.

In a few years, when she reached middle or high school, she’d probably be the kind of distant schoolgirl crush who inspired love letters from boys across the grade.

I was smiling helplessly to myself when a system notification suddenly rang in my mind—

【Ding! A Sunny Day Beneath the Wisteria!】

【Perfect Life Moment Check-In】

【The true meaning of a perfect life lies not only in fame, fortune, and status, but also in each pure and beautiful moment that makes the heart flutter along the way!】

【Reward: +1 Corner Shop Coin!】

【Reward 2: +100 unallocated experience points!】

The golden notification flashed before my eyes. My coin balance leaped from a pitiful 0.6 to 1.6, and the experience bar visibly grew!

(Note: The balance was 0.6 because I had dutifully done my homework all week.)

I stared for a long moment. An event like this could earn coins too?

How strange…

Holding the chocolate, I couldn’t help laughing.

One whole coin, plus a hundred experience points?

Just for playing an old song and accepting a little girl’s chocolate?

Ahhh… Fine.

I’d thought being dragged to the Children’s Palace on a weekend would be a waste of time, but apparently there were surprises after all.

See her next week?

When I unwrapped the chocolate later, it had melted a little, but it really was the genuine brand-name stuff.

…

The Perfect Life Guidebook is now online.

Name: Fang Luo

Age: √81 + 0 × 9

Academic ability: S

(Can easily master everything taught in primary school)

Athletic ability: B

(Average for a third-grader)

Looks: B+

(The clean-cut type among primary school boys)

(9,800 experience points needed for the next level)

Current mission: Place first in class on the monthly exam.

Current ranking: 26th in class

Corner Shop Coins: 1.6

…