Chapter Forty-Eight: Remembrance

Liao Meiqi was slow to realize. It wasn’t until the staff member stepped forward to clip a tiny microphone onto her collar that she finally understood, bowing hurriedly to Director Fu Yuntao in gratitude. “Thank you, Director!”

Fu Yuntao smiled with the warmth of a kindly father. “All right, begin your performance!”

Surrounded by cameras from every direction, Liao Meiqi’s nerves were evident. “What should I sing?” she asked, voice unsteady.

Fu Yuntao’s smile deepened. “Of course, sing the piece you’re best at! The video I’m recording for you now will be used as a show highlight, released separately in the program’s video list. This is a great opportunity—make the most of it. Since you’ve already performed ‘The Rest of Our Lives’ and ‘If There Is a Next Life,’ there’s no need to repeat them. Why not try a new song? I’m sure your brother has written more than just those two for you, hasn’t he?”

A dampness spread across Liao Meiqi’s palms.

She tapped the body of her guitar, letting the melodies she’d listened to over the past month swirl in her mind. At last, she nodded. “All right. I understand.”

The dozen or so members of the director’s team were already in position. The practice room’s main lights were dimmed, and the stage lighting from the crew cast a theatrical glow, transforming the space into a stage.

With every gaze focused on her, Liao Meiqi’s nerves tightened. Suddenly, she recalled a method her brother had once taught her to channel emotions. Lifting her head, her voice trembling, she asked, “Director, do you remember your school days?”

“Eh?”

Caught off guard, Fu Yuntao hesitated, but answered, “Of course I remember. Those were the best years of my life.”

Suppressing her anxiety, Liao Meiqi pressed on, “Do you remember the last scene of your final year?”

“The last scene?”

Now, not only Fu Yuntao but the entire production team fell into contemplation at her question.

The last scene of senior year…

Fu Yuntao’s thoughts drifted back to high school.

“Thank you, teacher, for all your hard work!”

In the last class before the college entrance exam, students clustered in small groups, presenting their gifts to their teachers. Each teacher’s face beamed with satisfaction, their laughter ringing out. Even the most mischievous students, usually exasperated by the teachers’ endless admonitions, found their eyes brimming with tears that day.

Graduation—so many things ended before they could even begin.

You hadn’t even strapped on your sword, and in the blink of an eye, you were out in the world.

So many regrets, so many things left unsaid.

That first day at school: “Hello, classmate!”

The last day: “Goodbye, classmate!”

At last, you were off to brave the battlefield.

May you, on a certain afternoon in June, as you cap your pen, feel the pride of a warrior sheathing his sword.

May you, after weathering a thousand journeys, return still as young at heart as ever.

“In the blink of an eye, three years have passed
Everything in my heart so bright and clear
Now, the countdown shows just days remain
Scraps of paper at my feet
No time to pick them up
As if about to break free from this cocoon of pressure
After leaving school, everyone burns the midnight oil

Dark circles in the morning
Drowsiness in class
Day after day, again and again—”

The drawn-out final note, mingled with the pure, melodious clarity of her voice and the guitar’s full, resonant timbre, flooded everyone’s ears in an instant.

There were no flashy vocal techniques, only a girl pouring her soul into song.

Fu Yuntao opened his mouth, at a loss for words.

Listening to the lyrics, his skin prickled with goosebumps, long-buried memories welling up and leaving him with a sense of longing and loss.

“I just want to hold on to these years
To say a proper goodbye
Regrets and gratitude can’t bring back yesterday
I just want to remember this moment
The light-years we walked together
After June
The years become a commemoration”

Assistant Director Liu Hai was left stunned.

He’d never cared much for singing, nor did he have a discerning ear for music, but as Liao Meiqi finished this song, he felt as if struck by lightning, frozen to the spot, the ripples of memory slowly stirring within him.

Once known as the school’s worst student, during the last class of high school, Liu Hai didn’t sleep, didn’t skip, nor did he secretly play with his phone or read novels. Instead, he sat in the last row, earnestly taking in his surroundings.

He gazed at his teachers, his classmates, the maple leaves fluttering in the summer breeze outside the window.

That day, led by the class arts rep, everyone sang their class song for the first time in ages.

When the song ended, tears streamed down their faces.

During the final lesson, with the teachers’ tacit approval, students stood up one by one, frantically seeking autographs in their yearbooks.

Liu Hai watched it all in silence, as if he were an outsider.

When everyone had left, he quietly handed in the classroom key, closed the door, and locked it.

Farewell, my youth.

“This class is so proud
Never answers questions in any subject
But still so warm
The banter between classmates
Copying homework beneath textbooks
Stealing glances during tests
Now, thinking back
Doesn’t it feel endearing—

Doesn’t it feel endearing?”

In that moment, the entire production team was swept across the river of time, lost in the stories of their own memories.

Turning around during a physics discussion to talk with the student behind you about dreams and love…

Being suddenly called on in class, jumping up nervously, only to see your desk mate’s awkward, desperate shake of the head...

Walking down sunlit hallways after a midday nap to wash your face.

The dust swirling in the classroom during sunset as everyone cleaned together...

During study hall, the wave of vocabulary recitation suddenly interrupted by the strains of a pop song...

God, how I miss those people!

With these images surging in their minds, everyone found their eyes growing red and moist.

Within that song, everything was memory.

As for Liao Meiqi...

While singing, only one scene played in her mind.

That day, ignoring others’ attempts to stop her, she shouldered her backpack and walked out of the school.

No one came to see her off.

At the very moment she stepped beyond the school gate, she fought back the urge to return, turned amidst the surging crowd, and bowed deeply toward her high school years.

That image froze in time.

From then on, she vowed to forge her own path.

But in dreams long after, she often found herself back in the classroom.

Her classmates were still there.

Groups gathered, chatting all around.

It seemed there was still a year until the college entrance exam.

The homeroom teacher at the podium, explaining freshly graded papers.

Classmates jostling to talk and laugh with her.

Everything still seemed possible…

“I just want to hold on to these years
To say a proper goodbye
To carve your smiling faces in my heart
When a shooting star crosses the sky
We make our wishes together
Let this moment last forever
Forever—”

When the song ended, Liao Meiqi set down her guitar, nervously awaiting the verdict from the director’s team.

But the assistant director, executive directors, script supervisors, as well as the cameramen, lighting technicians, and assistants, all fell into a profound silence…

Fu Yuntao quietly wiped the corner of his eye, a gratified smile on his lips, and was the first to applaud.

Gradually, applause thundered throughout the room, long and unending.