One Less Star in the Night Sky

Chapter 8: Wishing Stars Fall When You Appear (3)

Chapter 8: Wishing Stars Fall When You Appear (3)

"Xiaocheng," said Father Shen while looking into the rearview mirror, "are you also classmates with our Yan'er? Why haven't I seen you before?"

"We just met for the first time today," I interposed, "he's also a final year student but he's not from my department."

"Oh, then which department are you from?"

As I resisted the urge to turn around, Cheng Yujin's voice sounded from the backseat of the car. "I'm in the Composition Department."

"Composition Department? Does that mean you learn—"

"Father!" I interrupted, "I told you, we've just met for the first time today. We're not friends. You don't have to pay too much attention to him."

"Yan'er, that's not the way to speak to our guest," tutted Father Shen, shooting me a quick chastising look before turning back to Cheng Yujin with his newfound curiosity. "Sorry, Xiaocheng, where were we? Right—as a music composition major, what kind of songs do you write?"

"We're taught to compose all kinds of music and songs. Technically, music is different from songs—simply put, the later being music with lyrics. I've written classical music for class before, but I prefer dabbling in writing songs."

Father Shen laughed embarrassedly. "Unlike Yan'er and her mother who are artistic, I'm just an ordinary businessman who doesn't really know much about the music and dance. The both of them always complain that I'm tone-deaf."

"Don't say that, Uncle Shen. Music is a universal language and can be appreciated by everyone," Cheng Yujin replied kindly.

"That's right," Father Shen smiled as he looked up into the rearview mirror again. "Do you hear that, Yan'er? Music is for everyone."

"What?" I turned to stare at him, startled. Tilting my head on one side, I stole a glance at Cheng Yujin, whose attention was already on me.

"Xiaocheng, my daughter always refuses to sing at home whenever we ask her to. She claims that I'm tone-deaf and wouldn't be able to appreciate her or understand her performance," Father Shen complained to the young man sitting in the backseat, sounding almost smug and completely unconcerned that he was barely an acquaintance of his daughter. "But now she shouldn't have an excuse anymore."

Swallowing whatever protests that I, as Lu Yujuan, would have against Shen Yan's personal beliefs, I listened to her father's lamentations in quiet embarrassment while looking at Cheng Yujin.

As the car passed under a streetlamp and light flooded into the car, his expression illuminated with a sort of white radiance of anger which quickly vanished as the car plunged into darkness again. A second later, the light from the next streetlamp illuminated his face again, casting a warm glow across his now deadpanned face. His eyes continued to hold my gaze, as if silently communicating his disdain.

A spilt second later, darkness enveloped us again. Tearing my gaze again from him, I turned back towards the road and leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath. In a weak whisper, I acquiesced, "Yes, I was wrong to think that way. Music is for everyone."

The rest of the car ride went rather quietly, with Father Shen occasionally asking Cheng Yujin random questions about his family and hobbies, and the latter kindly and politely indulging the former with answers. Although most of Cheng Yujin's replies were common knowledge that anyone could gleam from an internet search of Celebrity Cheng Yujin in my past life, there was still some new information that I learnt about him, albeit the information was not tabloid-worthy.

As another conversation between Father Shen and Chen Yujin, this one about food, died down again, the soft hum of the engine took over the silence.

Resting my head against my elbow and propping my chin up, I gazed out of the window at the passing scenery which was a blur of lights and colours. I sighed inwardly, feeling at a loss for what I should do next. It was evident that Cheng Yujin's impression of Shen Yan was worse than unfavourable. At this point, it was almost impossible for me to befriend him and attempt to talk him out of giving up on his singer-songwriter career, let alone speak to him about time travelling. If Father Shen had not insisted on giving him a ride home earlier—it turned out that Shen Yan and Cheng Yujin lived in the same neighbourhood—Cheng Yujin wouldn't have gotten into the car.

The car slowed to a stop in front of Cheng Yujin's house. Expressing his thanks for the car ride, Cheng Yujin opened the door and stepped out into the cold wintry night.

As the car pulled away, I stared out of the window after his departing back and felt a pang of regret, wishing that I had the courage earlier to speak my mind. Who knew if I would have another chance to encounter him again.

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