thefictionvixens Chapter 50 The Person I'm Waiting For: How Far Away in the Future Is She?
Chapter 50 The Person I'm Waiting For: How Far Away in the Future Is She?
In Wang Bo's live stream, the screen was flooded with comments.
"Here it comes!"
"Purchased! Downloaded! On repeat!"
"The prelude killed me! Wang Bo, you're my god!"
Wang Bo sat at the piano, watching the rapidly scrolling comments on the screen, completely unfazed.
"Thank you everyone," he smiled at the camera. "The song 'Encounter' took quite a long time to create and produce. There were many revisions, and I even thought about giving up, after all, I was under a lot of pressure after 'The You of the Past'."
The live chat immediately erupted with comments like "I feel sorry for you," "Don't give up," and "You're amazing."
"But then I thought about it," Wang Bo continued, "Music isn't a competition. Not every song has to surpass the previous one. What's important is expression and sincerity. So in the end, I decided to make this song and share it with everyone."
"I hope you like it."
Gifts were flying in the live stream room, including rockets, sports cars, airplanes... it was dazzling.
Some of it was paid for by the client.
Looking at the special effects, Wang Bo suddenly remembered the days just half a month ago when he was still worrying about tens of thousands of yuan for surgery.
He began to tell the story of the creation of "Encounter," recount his experiences during this period, and talk about his perseverance in music.
When a fan asked about the poem, he cleverly avoided the question; when someone asked about Zhou Yuji, he smiled and said that she was a respectable former boss.
Within twenty minutes of the live stream starting, the number of viewers had already exceeded 300,000.
As scheduled, Wang Bo sang a segment of "Encounter," answered fans' questions, and shared his upcoming plans.
Everything is going smooth.
A comment scrolled by: "Wang Bo, do you believe in love at first sight?"
Wang Bo said earnestly, "I believe that every encounter is meaningful, whether it is love at first sight or love that grows over time, whether it is romantic love, friendship, or gratitude for being recognized and appreciated. Cherish every encounter, because they make up our lives."
The barrage of comments exploded again.
"Well said!"
"Wang Bo, are you a philosopher?"
"I'm going to copy this down!"
Meanwhile, on a subway.
Chen Hao squeezed into the crowd, carrying a crumpled bag in his hand, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.
He failed his job interview again today.
This is the sixth time this month.
I graduated from a 985 university and have three years of work experience. Logically speaking, it shouldn't be this difficult.
However, with the economic downturn, layoffs are occurring in all industries, and even a simple operations position can attract hundreds of competitors.
He'd heard the interviewer's final words, "Go home and wait for our call," so many times that he could now decipher the unspoken meaning: "No chance, next one."
The subway rumbled along, the carriages packed with tired faces.
Some people were scrolling through their phones, some were spacing out, and some were dozing off against the railing.
Chen Hao found a corner, took out the bread he had just bought from his bag. It originally cost eight yuan, but it was on sale for three yuan and fifty cents that evening.
The rustling of the plastic bags sounded particularly jarring in the quiet carriage.
A well-dressed white-collar woman next to her frowned and moved half a step to the side.
Chen Hao pretended not to see it and took a bite of bread.
Dry.
I feel choked up.
He took out his phone, trying to distract himself.
I opened my music app, the screen lit up, and a Google notification popped up: "Wang Bo's new song 'Encounter' has been released online, have you listened to it?"
Wang Bo?
Chen Hao remembered this person; when "Once Upon a Time" became popular, he listened to it on repeat for several days.
That song seemed to have a magical power. Every time he heard "I once dreamed of traveling the world with a sword," he would think of himself when he had just graduated from university, full of vigor and feeling that the whole world was his stage.
What now?
The stage belonged to someone else; he couldn't even get a seat in the audience.
He found the song "Encounter" and clicked to play it.
Chen Hao paused for a moment when the piano intro flowed from his cheap headphones.
This melody... is so gentle.
It's as gentle as the first ray of winter sunshine, not scorching or dazzling, just quietly shining into your heart.
"I heard winter leaving~"
Wang Bo's voice still carried a slightly husky quality, but it was more restrained and delicate than in "Once Upon a Time".
Chen Hao took another bite of bread, chewing mechanically.
"I woke up in a certain month of a certain year~"
As the subway train passed through the tunnel, it was pitch black outside the window. Only the lights inside the carriage reflected on the glass, showing tired faces.
Chen Hao looked at his reflection in the glass. The suit was bought a long time ago. His mother had specially taken him to the mall to pick it out for his first job interview. She had said at the time, "My son looks so smart in a suit. He'll definitely get the job."
That suit cost eight hundred yuan, which was my mother's monthly pension.
He did get the job, but was laid off three months later.
Later on, the suit became my battle armor for every job interview. I wore it again and again, and the cuffs started to pill.
"I think, I wait, I look forward, but the future cannot be planned because of this."
When Wang Bo sang this line, Chen Hao stopped chewing.
The future cannot be planned.
Yes, he had planned his future many times: becoming a manager at twenty-five, earning an annual salary of 300,000 at thirty, buying a house in this big city at thirty-five, and bringing his parents over...
He is now 28 years old, has been unemployed for three months, has a bank account balance of 4,200 yuan, and will have to pay 1,500 yuan in rent next month.
future?
The future is tomorrow morning's 7 a.m. alarm clock, another resume that sinks without a trace, an interviewer's formulaic smile and that "go back and wait for our notification."
"A cloudy evening, outside the car window, someone is waiting for me in the future."
The subway arrived at the station, the doors opened, and crowds poured in and out.
Chen Hao didn't move. He just stood there, eating his bread bite by bite, with "Encounter" playing on repeat in his headphones.
When he heard "who I meet and what kind of dialogue we'll have" for the third time, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
When he called last week, his mother asked, "How did the interview go? Do you have enough money? I have two thousand left, I'll transfer it to you."
He said, "No need, Mom, I have money. The interview went well; I'm waiting for their call."
The mother laughed on the other end of the phone, "That's good. My son is so outstanding, he'll definitely succeed. By the way, is your suit worn out? I saw they're on sale at the mall, should I buy you another one?"
He said, "No need, Mom, I can still wear the suit."
The mother said, "That won't do. You need to dress smartly for the interview. I'll go check it out tomorrow. You wait here."
He opened his mouth as if to say, "Mom, I really don't need to," but in the end he only hummed in agreement.
Because he knew that buying a suit for her son was one of the few things his mother could do for him now.
She couldn't help with anything else, so she poured all her love into these little things.
"Who will I meet, what kind of conversations will we have, and how far in the future is the person I'm waiting for...?"
Upon hearing this, Chen Hao finally burst into tears.
Silently, scalding hot, it smashed onto the half-eaten bread in my hand.
He quickly lowered his head and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but the more he wiped, the more his eyes came back to life.
The white-collar woman next to him glanced at him again, this time with a look that wasn't one of disdain, but rather a complex emotion.
Perhaps it was sympathy, or perhaps it was empathy.