Whose little item is she holding in her hand…

“Wha-what’s wrong?” Xu Fengluan mumbled through a mouthful of grapes, her voice garbled, trying to mask her nervousness but only sounding guiltier.

The older woman noticed something but didn’t call it out, her tone steady as she asked: “Didn’t you say you wanted to do music?”

Xu Fengluan quietly sighed in relief, unsure why she was so anxious, chalking it up to discomfort around her idol.

Swallowing the fruit, she replied promptly: “Yeah.”

At the mention of music, her stray thoughts settled, her expression turning serious.

“What direction are you aiming for?”

“Musical theater?” Liu Tingsong ventured, connecting the dots.

“No, no,” Xu Fengluan hurriedly swallowed her fruit, denying it quickly.

“Hm?” Liu Tingsong tilted her head, adding: “You need a specific direction.”

Worried she’d be misunderstood as just rebelling against her mother without a plan, Xu Fengluan explained: “I want to go for a band.”

That caught Liu Tingsong off guard. She echoed: “Rock?”

Then added: “*Rock of Ages*? *Chess*?”

Xu Fengluan’s eyes lit up brighter, now seeing Liu Tingsong as a true kindred spirit, her face breaking into a smile: “That’s part of it.”

Musicals were versatile, not tied to one style, even blending with rock. The two Liu Tingsong mentioned were famous rock adaptations.

The awkwardness of the past few days melted away. Xu Fengluan unconsciously leaned closer, her loose sleeve brushing Liu Tingsong’s arm.

“But I lean more toward post-punk,” she added. “Other styles work too—I want to try everything, not box myself in.”

Liu Tingsong nodded slightly, approving.

Having a general direction was enough; she could experiment without locking into one style, avoiding boring herself or the audience.

“What about band members?”

At this, Xu Fengluan’s gaze flickered, guiltily admitting: “Just me.”

“I didn’t know many music people before, and starting college, my mom kept me on a tight leash—how could I meet anyone?” Her voice grew quieter.

Liu Tingsong thought for a moment, then asked: “Keyboard, guitarist, bassist, drummer, vocalist—which role can you take?”

She listed the standard band setup, though many bands tweaked it—keyboard doubling as drums, guitarists or bassists as vocalists, or adding extra bassists, guitarists, or even instruments like pipa, cello, or guzheng, depending on vision.

But for Xu Fengluan’s current state, starting with the basics made sense before experimenting.

Xu Fengluan, like a student caught off guard by a teacher’s question, stammered: “I can sing, played piano for a few years—maybe keyboard? Guitar too, but just a bit.”

Among instruments, she was drawn to guitar. When she learned her mother wanted her to study an instrument, she’d called to ask if she could swap piano for guitar.

But guitars were easy to start, affordable even for the broke, earning their “commoner’s instrument” label.

So how could her mother agree?

Making Xu Fengluan learn an instrument was about chasing “high-class” refinement, aiming to mold her into a proper successor. A “commoner’s instrument” was out of the question.

The little guitar Xu Fengluan knew was self-taught from online videos.

Liu Tingsong’s brow furrowed. She’d thought Xu Fengluan was somewhat reliable, but now…

Glancing over, she saw Xu Fengluan’s nervous face, cautiously watching her—a kid who hadn’t faced the world.

Liu Tingsong relaxed her frown, saying decisively: “Tomorrow, come with me to a recording studio to test it out.”

Talk was cheap; results mattered.

Also…

Liu Tingsong’s eyes lifted: “Like the bass?”

Xu Fengluan nodded blankly.

“Then try bass,” Liu Tingsong decided.

Keyboard and piano seemed similar but were worlds apart.

Keyboards, essentially synthesizers, mimicked pianos, saxophones, drums, and leaned toward pop. Pianos were classical.

A great keyboardist was a versatile powerhouse, enabling a band to push boundaries and enrich arrangements.

Electric guitar, a core band instrument, used bends and slides to enhance melody and rhythm.

Both were critical, and Xu Fengluan’s half-baked skills weren’t worth forcing into those roles.

Bass, though, wasn’t less important—often called the band’s “heartbeat.” It anchored the low end, stabilized harmony and rhythm, and paired with drums to set the vibe. Without bass, a band’s rhythm could stray, feeling airy and flat.

But bass was easier to pick up, like humanities in school—effort could get you a pass, though mastery was tough.

Many bassists became background root-note players, spawning bass jokes:

Called a four-string guitar or oversized ukulele.

The band’s least essential member, stuck fetching takeout or mediating fights.

Why does the bassist’s hand move with no sound?

Why is bass the band’s soul? Because souls are invisible.

Yet a great bassist could elevate a band’s ceiling.

Like Red Hot Chili Peppers or Queen abroad, or Chen Zhou Band domestically, with bassists weaving a distinctive “swagger” into their sound.

Liu Tingsong’s suggestion was calculated. Though it was just Xu Fengluan now, recruiting was tough. If she could handle vocals and bass, that solved three big problems.

Switching from guitar to bass wasn’t starting from scratch. If Xu Fengluan lacked talent, she could stick to root notes as a vocalist. If she had potential and practiced, she could lead the band forward.

Plus, summer break was two weeks away—how to use that time…

In a flash, Liu Tingsong considered much, but it hinged on tomorrow’s recording. If Xu Fengluan flopped, no plan mattered.

Her thoughts paused. Looking at Xu Fengluan, now brimming with excitement she couldn’t hide, she nodded heavily: “Good!”

Liu Tingsong stayed quiet, not voicing other concerns, turning back to the screen.

She clearly loved this, diving right in.

Music filled the living room. As time passed, the scorching sun eased, no longer stinging the skin. The room dimmed, the once-full fruit plate now just juice and lingering scents.

Perhaps from excitement, Xu Fengluan stared at the screen, but what usually held her focus failed her now, her mind a jumble of thoughts.

The distance she’d unconsciously closed, she now carefully widened, leaving a small gap.

The woman beside her seemed oblivious, her clear eyes reflecting the musical, shimmering with the flickering light.

Xu Fengluan stole a glance.

Liu Tingsong’s once-wet hair had dried, tucked behind her head, revealing half her profile. Xu Fengluan didn’t dare linger, her gaze settling on Liu Tingsong’s neck.

Her skin was fair, the line of her neck long and smooth, faint veins hidden beneath thin skin, trembling slightly, like warm jade, softer than jade. Further down…

Xu Fengluan forced her eyes away, trying to focus on the musical for the first time. But, as if on cue, the screen hit the scene where Arthur’s sister uses magic to trick him into thinking she’s his queen.

Knowing what came next, Xu Fengluan shot up, stammering: “I forgot to wash my underwear from a few days ago. I’ll do it now.”

She’d gotten her period recently, staining her clothes, and left them soaking until it passed.

Liu Tingsong didn’t stop her, just nodded.

Xu Fengluan’s steps were rushed, nearly crashing into a wooden divider, the door slamming louder than before with a heavy “bang.”

Liu Tingsong looked away. The screen showed Arthur’s sister straddling him, the implications clear.

Liu Tingsong’s eyelids fluttered, her hand brushing her neck, rubbing briefly before dropping.

In moments, she was back to normal, no trace of anything amiss.

Inside, the younger one, thin-skinned and unsteady, was a mess, ears red as blood, mindlessly scrubbing the clothes.

The basin’s water changed again and again, scrubbed countless times, until Xu Fengluan calmed slightly. About to set the basin aside and splash her face to cool off, her gaze dropped—and froze.

The freshly washed item in her hands wasn’t her familiar underwear or panties…

Recalling Liu Tingsong fresh from her shower…

The heat she’d just cooled surged back, from neck to ears to cheeks, every inch flushed red.

Xu Fengluan stood frozen, at a complete loss.

Later, the musical neared its end, the cast holding hands, bowing to the audience.

Liu Tingsong snapped back, realizing Xu Fengluan had been in there too long. Frowning, she stood and headed over.

“What’s taking—” Her words cut off as she froze at the bathroom door.

This time, Liu Tingsong couldn’t maintain her elder’s calm. Her face flushed red alongside Xu Fengluan’s.