Xiao Fengtai claimed not to care much about the competition, yet two weeks before the event, he finally suspended his Chinese lessons on the pretext of needing more time to practice.
The two of them communicated sporadically via WeChat. Xiao Fengtai would send photos of his violin to Jiang Tong.
"My grandmother said this violin was a gift from my great-grandfather to her. She passed it to my mother, and my mother passed it to me. It’s said that Paganini once played it," he said with a hint of mockery. "Fortunately, my father never set his sights on this instrument; he’s always kept a respectful distance from female artists."
Jiang Tong, however, noticed something else.
"What happened to your hand?"
One of Xiao Fengtai’s hands had accidentally entered the frame. His skin was fairer than most, making the blisters and red marks on his fingers particularly striking.
The boy dismissed it casually. "I’ve been practicing a lot before the competition. A few blisters are normal."
Jiang Tong felt a pang of bitterness in his heart. Xiao Fengtai’s offhand remark only deepened his sense of guilt, ensuring that whenever his mind drifted, the image of the boy’s suppressed, longing gaze would surface. The more he reviewed his own work, the more uneasy he became. By the day of the competition, he was still hesitating over whether he should even show up.
What if his seat was next to Xiao Zhizhong? What if he wasn't overthinking it, and Xiao Fengtai’s desires for him truly exceeded what he could give? Accepting the ticket felt like a silent acquiescence to those desires, and Jiang Tong could not bear the weight of so many "what ifs." He took off the coat he had already put on, only to remember Xiao Fengtai’s fingers again—the skin rubbed raw and red by the violin strings.
Between leaving late and the heavy traffic, Jiang Tong stepped through the doors almost exactly as the opening bell rang. He had just found his seat among a crowd of parents with young children when the house lights dimmed one by one, and the competition officially began.
There were five contestants before Xiao Fengtai. Jiang Tong kept his eyes on the stage, but his mind was miles away. His knowledge of classical music was limited to "Ode to Joy," let alone being able to distinguish the nuances of different performers' interpretations. As a girl in a lavish gown played Bach with great emotion, he was silently calculating his income and expenses for the month. His lease was ending, the landlord wanted to raise the rent, the GRE registration was imminent, and the peanut oil at home was almost gone... Amidst the soothing, steady music, he grew drowsy, his eyelids becoming increasingly heavy.
"Mom, that older brother is so handsome!" a young violin student beside him whispered in awe, jolting him from his half-asleep state. The little girl squirmed in her seat, causing Jiang Tong’s chair to vibrate along with her.
"What’s his name? I want to get his autograph!"
Jiang Tong instinctively looked up and met Xiao Fengtai’s eyes.
From their first meeting, Jiang Tong knew he was attractive, but he hadn't realized he could be this beautiful. The white shirt and black suit were perfectly tailored, hugging the boy’s tall, slender, and slightly delicate frame. To suit the stage lights, Xiao Fengtai wore light makeup, which further accentuated the androgynous elegance of his features. Jiang Tong couldn't help but notice his lush, crimson lips—a finishing touch of color that made his skin look like jade and his eyes appear deep and focused.
He was looking at him.
Across the vast expanse of the concert hall, his gaze felt almost physical, causing a faint, prickling itch on Jiang Tong’s skin. Jiang Tong heard the audience around him begin to stir; they were flipping through their programs, searching for the name of the extraordinarily beautiful dark-haired boy on stage.
Xiao Fengtai liked him. The guilt that had long tormented Jiang Tong evolved in this moment into a subtle sense of pride. Here was a youth as fresh and tender as a flower bud, a future pillar of society meticulously polished by a wealthy family. Countless gazes of praise, curiosity, and envy enveloped Xiao Fengtai, yet he only looked at Jiang Tong from afar.
He looked with that familiar gaze—intense, suppressed, and burning.
"Mozart Violin Concerto No. 5," the announcer’s voice rang out. "Kenneth Siu, Lion City High School."
Xiao Fengtai bowed to the audience, his violin carving a graceful arc through the air. The commotion in the stands gradually subsided. In the absolute silence, even a single cough became clearly audible.
He drew the bow.
A light, lively Allegro poured from the boy’s hands like a clear spring, carrying a hint of playfulness and cynicism that teased the listeners' nerves. It was the sound of youth that knows not the taste of sorrow; a nineteenth summer that seemed as if it would never end, day after day of endless banquets and play, clear blue skies, and peaches so plump and red that their sweet juice nearly burst through the skin. Boys and girls chased each other through the woods, the sun’s dappled light reflected in their eyes.
Yet, a shadow lurked within the joy. Unlike the grey, heavy misery of adulthood, the sorrow of the young was bright and pure. The violin melody gradually settled from its high peaks, yet remained hovering in mid-air. The snowy wings of the music spread wide under the moonlight, refusing the entanglements and troubles of the real world.
Jiang Tong gazed at Xiao Fengtai, entranced. The boy’s body swayed with the rhythm of the music. His eyes were half-closed, his brow slightly furrowed, and his long, pale fingers moved nimbly over the strings like carved jade. Jiang Tong had a strange illusion that the violin was an extension of Xiao Fengtai’s body, the sound resonating within his own chest, as if Xiao Fengtai’s cool fingers were tracing his cheek and collarbone, moving all the way down to rest against his heart.
A soft place in his soul was gently touched.
Sadness is never the main theme of youth. A new day arrives, the sun rises, and the sorrow of dreams and the single tear at the corner of the eye upon waking are forgotten by breakfast. Life is short; one might as well play to their heart's content while the times are good. *Come join us*—the music was a passionate invitation that the audience could not help but be swept into. The melody climbed higher and higher, the dance steps whirled faster, the flying skirts became a dizzying blur. Faster, faster still, until the light and shadow before his eyes blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors. Then, at the height of the climax, the music stopped abruptly.
This, too, was like youth: starting in a rush, ending suddenly. A banquet one thought would never end, only to turn around the next second and find nothing but a mess of scattered plates and cups.
As the piece ended, the applause was like thunder. Jiang Tong clapped vigorously along with the rest of the audience until his palms stung with a burning heat.
***
The gold medal was awarded without suspense. When the results were announced, Jiang Tong heard the mother beside him mutter quietly, and only then did he learn that this was the third consecutive year Lion City High School had taken the championship.
Compared to adult competitions, youth competitions were far more about entertainment than pure rivalry. The gold medalist was arranged by the organizers to perform a self-selected piece on stage. When Xiao Fengtai reappeared, he had changed out of his suit. He ran onto the stage in jeans and a T-shirt, earning a warm round of applause mixed with good-natured cheers.
"I’m dedicating this piece to someone," he said, standing still on stage with a smile. "I hope he likes it."
It began with a gentle start, like a soft kiss brushing against a cheek, or a morning after the rain, waking up in bed with a lover and sharing a silent smile. The violin’s voice was slender, long, and winding as it rose, then suddenly dropped from the heights, singing in a low, lingering voice of the sweetness and sorrow of love. Just like the rotation of day and night, where light and shadow are born together, true love always contains a hint of melancholy. The piano entered at the right moment, gently cradling the violin’s deep melody like a sigh. This was not the bitter echo of one who had weathered the storms of life, but a soft sigh of anticipation, laced with joy. Love turns mortals into saints, willing to lay bare the softest parts of their hearts to collide and resonate with another.
The joy of love overwhelmed the pain. The melody continued to soar, sublimating from the mortal realm to a golden heaven. While the feet of men are bound to the earth, returning to dust as time passes, love is eternal. It experiences peaks and valleys, magnificent sacrifices and painful memories, finally stripping away all pretension to return to its original form—quiet, tender, a kiss as natural as breathing.
Jiang Tong felt his limbs go numb, a slight dizziness washing over him. The seat beneath him seemed to melt away, and the surrounding audience vanished into the darkness. He sat upon the surging waves of the dark, the only source of light being the boy performing on stage. As he played, he watched him—Jiang Tong knew Xiao Fengtai was looking at him. His gaze, that undisguised heat, that clarity, that pure trust and attraction. He was in the darkness; the boy was in the spotlight. Yet Jiang Tong had the illusion that he himself had caught fire, and the boy, like a moth to a flame, would throw himself toward him regardless of the cost, embracing him, and together they would vanish into the scalding heat of their emotions.
*Salut d'Amour*—this was the gift Xiao Fengtai had given him. A piece being recorded, being reported on; a love letter played before thousands.
Jiang Tong felt his eyes grow hot. He covered them with his palm, only to find his hand wet with tears.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 狮城高中 | Lion City High School | "Lion City" is a common nickname for Singapore. |
| 莫扎特第五号小提琴协奏曲 | Mozart Violin Concerto No. 5 | A famous violin concerto by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. |
| 爱的致意 | Salut d'Amour | A famous musical work by Edward Elgar; literally "Love's Greeting." |
| 少年不识愁滋味 | Youth knows not the taste of sorrow | A reference to a famous poem by Xin Qiji. |
| 洗净铅华 | Stripped of all pretension | Literally "washing away the lead-based makeup," meaning to return to a natural or pure state. |
