He wrapped his left arm around Jiutiao Meijie and rested his right hand on her shoulder, gazing down at her delicately upturned face.
Jiutiao Meijie closed her eyes.
The sunlight fell on her face.
Her cold, soft lips touched Dubian Che's breath.
Her heart felt like it was sinking to the bottom of a crystal-clear lake, yet soaring through white clouds into the blue sky.
Beside the lake, illuminated by the camping light, Dubian Che admired the oil painting centered around him and Jiutiao Meijie.
Five people sat around a table, with a charcoal fire in the middle, a grill atop the fire, and the grill laden with corn, sausages, asparagus, shrimp, skewered meats, and more.
The campfire burned nearby, sparks rising like a mist of rain.
"How is it, Mr. Dubian?" Mrs. Kiyono pouted her crystal lips, blowing on the asparagus, worried about getting burned.
"It's a realm I can never reach, no matter how hard I try." Dubian Che said admiringly as he set down the painting.
"No need to be modest," Kiyono Lin said as she ate a thin slice of grilled beef, "your caveman drawings are quite good too."
"That is true." Dubian Che picked up a skewer of meat, bit into it, pulled, and chewed enthusiastically, fat bursting in his mouth, "In drawing cavemen, I consider myself the best in Goda."
"Cavemen?" Mrs. Jiutiao asked curiously.
"That means 'ugly,'" Jiutiao Meijie said while eating a colorful skewer with meat, green pepper, corn, and asparagus.
"Just say ugly and be done with it, at least clarify what kind of ugly. It's the drawing that's ugly, not the person." Dubian Che protested.
"Mr. Dubian," Mrs. Kiyono said, her lips still burnt, "we've done some painting, how about you perform a talent for us?"
"You really want me to sing?" Dubian Che looked around at everyone, smiling.
"No singing!" Everyone quickly refused.
"Ah, I've got it." Dubian Che put down the skewer and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
He walked to the lakeside, plucked a leaf, and made it into a whistle.
Back at his seat, he announced, "Back in my hometown, I was the number one grass whistle blower in Misezawa Village."
"Surely you were the only one who blew it?" Jiutiao Meijie said.
"Nonsense, all the kids in the village blew it! There, done." Dubian Che placed the whistle at his lips.
The nostalgic, lingering sound of the grass whistle erased all other noises, leaving the world around the lakeside silent.
Under the radiant moonlight, the grass whistle, the crackling campfire, and the slapping of the lake against the shore intertwined into a soft, beautiful melody.
When the song ended, the ladies clapped softly.
"Beautiful," Mrs. Kiyono praised.
"Why the Goda school song?" Jiutiao Meijie asked as she tore off a small piece of meat to feed "the queen."
"'Shibuya Hills, where crows fly over the school buildings, our alma mater, Goda.'" Dubian Che sang the opening lines, "It's probably the only song I can sing without going off key."
"It's a shame we don't have a guitar," he added, "otherwise I would have made even the moon fall in love with me tonight."
"Guitar?" Jiutiao Meijie confirmed.
"A guitar gives a different feel than a double reed," Dubian Che laughed, "imagine me holding a guitar, leg propped up, by the lakeside, beside the campfire, singing a captivating song. How about it? Love me even more?"
"Sounds nice, but you can't play the guitar and your singing is even worse," Kiyono Lin said.
"Fair point," Dubian Che nodded, "Anyone want to sing? I can accompany you."
"The two of us will sing a duet, and then Lin and Meijie can sing one," Mrs. Kiyono suggested as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
Without any prior arrangement, Mrs. Jiutiao immediately agreed.
Not giving her daughter a chance to object, she said, "Since Mr. Dubian just played the school song, let's sing the graduation song." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel•fire.net
"'On the Day of Departure'?" Mrs. Kiyono guessed.
Mrs. Jiutiao shook her head solemnly.
"'Song of Leaving the Nest'?" Mrs. Kiyono immediately followed with another guess.
Mrs. Kiyono smiled happily, and the two seemed to be enjoying a game of guessing song titles.
Mrs. Jiutiao turned to Dubian Che and asked, "Mr. Dubian, have you heard it?"
"I have, but please wait a moment," Dubian Che closed his eyes, recalling the day, a year ago, when he graduated from Misezawa Junior High School.
Remembering the tune, he played it twice on the grass whistle.
"Ready," he said, and then started the prelude of farewell.
Mrs. Kiyono and Mrs. Jiutiao exchanged glances and began to sing simultaneously.
"Flowers in multicolor, clouds drifting along,"
"Unforgettable memories, stirring a myriad of thoughts,"
"Leaving the memories on the windowsill of yesterday,"
"Today, we spread our wings and soar into the blue sky."
The ladies' voices were truly captivating.
After the song, Dubian Che alone applauded, and the two ladies bowed their heads politely in thanks.
"The moms' turn is over, now it's the daughters' turn," Mrs. Kiyono said with clasped hands, "Mr. Dubian, when it's time, you'll be the judge, to see which group sang better."
"I'm not singing," Kiyono Lin simply refused.
"I don't have a problem with it," Jiutiao Meijie said cheerfully.
"Lin~" Mrs. Kiyono puffed up her cheeks like an upset little girl.
Kiyono Lin ignored her mother and elegantly grabbed a golden piece of grilled pork belly from the grill, dipped it in sauce, and placed it in her mouth.
"Then what shall we do?" asked Mrs. Kiyono, not pleased.
After finishing her pork belly, Kiyono Lin suggested, "Recently, the three of us entered a light novel writing competition. The results come out in early June; now we can recite it to you and you decide who's better."
"You wrote a novel?" Mrs. Jiutiao asked curiously, "Meijie can do that sort of thing?"
Dubian Che had told her the backstory, but she pretended to be unaware.
"The loser has to wear a maid outfit for a week," Jiutiao Meijie said, glancing at Kiyono Lin, "I already made your outfit."
"I made yours too," Kiyono Lin replied with a smile.
"How interesting," Mrs. Kiyono exclaimed eagerly, "go on, recite it to us!"
Kiyono Lin took a sip of barley tea.
"'At the end of March and the beginning of April, at Morioka Station, I was running...'"