Chapter 0036: Father's Prose Poem

Everyone has the right to choose their own path and even their way of life. Even as friends, there is no reason or justification to interfere with others' choices, because that is an especially foolish act.

Independence is a need that every personality immerses into the soul.

Zhao Fusheng is like this, and Tan Kaixuan is also like this.

So at the very beginning, even though he clearly saw that Li Zhiyuan had feelings for Mu Qingqing, Tan Kaixuan did not stop him, because in Tan Kaixuan's view, if Zhao Fusheng had no interest in Mu Qingqing, he had no reason to stop Li Zhiyuan.

But facts prove that one must not have the heart to harm others, but must have the heart to guard against them.

When Zhao Fusheng was caught off guard, Li Zhiyuan actually turned his矛头 toward him.

As the saying goes, one fish spoils the whole pot. It must be said that sometimes one person can indeed change the atmosphere of a gathering. Although it's not to the extent of 'near vermilion, one gets red; near ink, one gets black,' at least before and after Li Zhiyuan and his roommates arrived, the overall atmosphere of the gathering changed somewhat.

Men, after all, always like to show their strong side in front of women, especially beautiful women. This is the instinct of male creatures. For thousands of years, whether humans or animals, it has been the same.

Obviously, in Li Zhiyuan's view, regardless of whether Zhao Fusheng had feelings for Mu Qingqing, he would become a stepping stone for Li Zhiyuan to pursue Mu Qingqing.

Zhao Fusheng was very irritated. He hated this kind of clichéd and utterly annoying situation. Having had some alcohol and with the atmosphere of the karaoke bar, his mood was already not good. Li Zhiyuan's behavior was like the fuse that ignites the explosive package, making Zhao Fusheng increasingly uncomfortable.

But as a mature and rational person, he couldn't stand up and throw punches, which only made the fire in Zhao Fusheng's heart burn even more.

"He doesn't like singing, so I'll sing one."

Tan Kaixuan spoke up, taking over the conversation.

"Yeah, let's sing a few. Come on, come on." Wen Yu and Wang Zhen also noticed something was off. As roommates, they naturally stood by Zhao Fusheng.

"Heh, coward."

Someone muttered in a low voice, not loud, but Zhao Fusheng heard it, and Hu Xia and the others also heard it.

Tan Kaixuan's face immediately turned ugly. He stood directly opposite Li Zhiyuan and said, "Li Zhiyuan, what do you mean?"

Li Zhiyuan chuckled but didn't speak. However, the person beside him said in a mocking tone, "What's the matter? Too scared to even sing a song, and you still try to pick up girls?"

Seeing Tan Kaixuan's face darken, Zhao Fusheng, knowing that this guy was ready to fight, sighed helplessly and slowly stood up.

He didn't want to cause trouble. More importantly, Zhao Fusheng, with pride ingrained in his bones, despised from the bottom of his heart this kind of behavior of vying for a woman's favor. It was too childish, too boring.

"Wang Zhen, go ask the boss here if they have a guitar?" Zhao Fusheng sent Wang Zhen off with one sentence, then looked back at Tan Kaixuan. "Calm down. There are so many girls here; don't let them laugh at us."

Hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, Tan Kaixuan took a deep breath and was about to speak when he saw Zhao Fusheng gently shake his head. "Trust me."

After saying that, Zhao Fusheng looked at the person behind Li Zhiyuan, the one who had just mocked him, blinked, and asked, "Do you like picking up soap?"

"Huh?"

That person looked confused, obviously not understanding what Zhao Fusheng meant.

Sighing, Zhao Fusheng shook his head helplessly, feeling a sense of having few kindred spirits.

"What do you mean?" Li Zhiyuan looked at Zhao Fusheng and asked in a deep voice.

Zhao Fusheng ignored him, just stood there quietly, waiting for Wang Zhen.

Soon, Wang Zhen returned, and he actually came back carrying a guitar.

"Wait, how did you know there was a guitar here?" Wang Zhen asked curiously as he handed the guitar to Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng didn't speak. He just took the guitar and fiddled with it, looking down. But Mu Qingqing suddenly spoke up, "When we came in, there was a singer performing at the ground floor bar..."

If there was a resident singer, naturally there would be instruments, and a guitar was undoubtedly essential.

Even Zhao Fusheng glanced at Mu Qingqing in surprise, not expecting her observation to be so sharp.

After fiddling with the guitar for a while, Zhao Fusheng curled his lips, looked around at the environment, shook his head, and asked Wang Zhen, "Has the performance downstairs started yet?"

The KTV they came to was a fairly decent entertainment venue near the school. The bar was downstairs, and the singing rooms were upstairs.

Wang Zhen shook his head. "It'll be a while. There's a singer performing now. I borrowed this guitar from there."

Zhao Fusheng said 'oh', looked at Tan Kaixuan and Hu Xia, and said, "Let's go downstairs."

Tan Kaixuan and Hu Xia were baffled. The two looked at each other in confusion, then saw Zhao Fusheng stand up, sling the guitar over his back, and walk out the door.

"Hmph, putting on an act!" Li Zhiyuan muttered. Before he could say anything else, Hu Xia, Tan Kaixuan, and the others had already followed Zhao Fusheng out. Even Mu Qingqing followed.

From start to finish, no one looked at him.

"Come on, let's go see what tricks he's up to." Li Zhiyuan stamped his foot and walked out.

By the time they got downstairs, they saw Zhao Fusheng already sitting in the seat that originally belonged to the singer. In front of him was a set-up microphone, and in his hands was the guitar he had just tuned.

"This song is dedicated to my father." Zhao Fusheng cleared his throat, gently plucked a string, and a melodious melody began.

"In 1984, the crops had not yet been harvested.

My son lay in my arms, sleeping so sweetly.

Tonight's outdoor movie, no time to go see.

My wife reminded me to fix the pedal of the sewing machine.

Tomorrow I'll go to the neighbor's to borrow some more money.

The child cried all day long, fussing for cookies.

Blue polyester jacket, pain piercing into the heart.

Crouching by the pond, I gave myself two hard punches.

This is my father,

the words in his diary,

this is the prose poem

left by his youth.

Years later, I look at it and can't stop crying.

My father has already grown old, like a shadow."

In Zhao Fusheng's memory, his father had never been a very robust man. He was thin, with high cheekbones, and because of years of hard work, his back was somewhat hunched.

He still remembered one year when he went to another city. His father saw him off at the station. He wouldn't let him carry the luggage, insisting on carrying the suitcase himself. Walking ahead with a trembling body, looking at his father's graying hair, he realized that his father had truly aged.

His vision gradually blurred. Zhao Fusheng's voice was already choked. At that moment, he couldn't tell where he really was.

"In 1994, the crops had long been harvested.

My old mother last year left the world.

My son, wearing a white shirt, ran into the school.

But lately, he has some worries and has lost a lot of weight.

Thinking about the future,

I will have aged into a pile of old paper money.

By then, my son will be a true man.

He will have a lovely girl and start a family.

I hope they don't have to live so hard.

This is my father,

the words in his diary,

this is the prose poem left by his life.

Years later,

I look at it and can't stop crying.

But my father has already grown old, like a shadow.

This is my father,

the words in his diary,

this is what his life left,

the prose poem left behind.

Years later,

I look at it and can't stop crying.

But my father in the wind is like an old newspaper.

These are the footprints left by that generation,

After a few storms, the traces will be erased.

This land once made me cry endlessly,

But how many people's bitter pasts does it bury."

At the beginning, there were still people chatting and laughing in the bar. But as Zhao Fusheng's singing accompanied by the guitar sounded, the entire bar gradually quieted down.

The sound of the guitar was like clear spring water, refreshing the heart.

Sometimes, what brings tears to one's eyes doesn't need to be earth-shattering or passionate, but the ordinary.

Father's love is like a mountain. The old Forever bicycle that carried us to school when we were young, the figure carrying us to the hospital in the heavy snow—these are all memories of father.

Looking at the boy on stage who was already in tears, Mu Qingqing felt for the first time that she really didn't understand him.

...

...

The song ended. Zhao Fusheng stood up, placed the guitar on the chair, glanced at the audience, and said calmly, "I don't sing because I really don't like singing."