Chapter 104: Heaven’s Blessing on One’s Meal

Outside the window, a fine drizzle seemed to fall gently, as Bai Yao’s fragile, flickering voice and Huang Guolun’s romantically light jazz piano played like the slow, nostalgic turn of an old gramophone needle.

Though Bai Yao was young, her weathered, smoky voice rivaled that of mature women who had long since shed the layers of life’s hardships. Her captivating smoky timbre flowed quietly through the warm café, enveloping everyone in a profound, lingering intoxication.

That evening, Wang Peng, Jiang Lili, and their group of college students dined on steak sets at the duck restaurant, paired with pizzas personally made by Zhao Yan. They were already enjoying themselves immensely, yet Bai Yao unexpectedly gifted them an unparalleled auditory feast.

Several of the young men were initially startled when Bai Yao began to sing; they had never imagined that such a pure-faced girl would possess a voice so husky and smoky. But as the enchanting sound unfurled, they were all irresistibly conquered by the unexpected, unique beauty in her singing.

Some were nearly breathless, unwilling to even take a breath for fear of disturbing the perfect listening atmosphere. Bai Yao herself, accompanied by Huang Guolun’s piano, slipped into a silent world where only music existed. With closed eyes, she seemed immersed in a lake filled with moonlit notes.

Her deep, resonant voice rose from the depths like a melody emerging from the lake’s bottom, dancing gracefully with the piano’s tune. This transcendent, self-forgetting beauty, though imperfect, was intoxicating and mesmerizing.

The usual numbers and calculations she dealt with daily transformed at that moment into dancing notes. Bai Yao relished this feeling of total control, singing with increasing heartfelt emotion:

“On the road of love, with you / I am not lonely / You treat me so well / This time, it’s truly different.”

“Perhaps I should cherish / Having you / Just as you have always waited for me...”

It was a classic love song, steeped in tender, lingering passion.

Though she had never experienced true romance, Bai Yao had a vague understanding of love through films and dramas. When singing this song and practicing others of its kind, she always imagined the recipient of her song as her devoted teacher, Huang Guolun.

Yet, she did not see Huang Guolun as a romantic interest, but rather as someone she deeply respected, admired, and liked—a teacher.

Since the day Huang Guolun unexpectedly caught her eating skewers by the Drum Tower Road, Bai Yao’s life had undergone a profound transformation; it was as if she had stepped directly from hell into heaven.

Once proud and aloof, living a solitary life and forcing herself to embrace loneliness, she now understood that life could be beautifully different.

All of this was thanks to Huang Guolun. Bai Yao hardly spoke of the profound kindness he had shown her, but in her heart, she was genuinely grateful to fate for bringing such a kind-hearted, capable, and utterly reliable teacher into her life.

With Huang Guolun by her side, life was easy; with Huang Tao, it was joyful beyond measure.

This father and son pair had become, for her, the closest “loved ones” she had ever known. This love was unlike romantic love between man and woman—it was genuine compassion and care, like the family she had always lacked.

Like peach blossoms flowing in water and the vast blue sea and sky, days spent with them erased the loneliness she once knew.

For such “intimate family,” Bai Yao was willing to cherish them with all she had. With sincere emotion, she poured her soul into the song’s more intricate chorus, her golden smoky voice shattering everyone’s hearts:

“Dear one / Intimate lover / Thank you for being with me all this time.”

“Dear one / Intimate lover / This is the most thrilling moment / Of my life...”

Zhao Jing, sitting near the stage, was nearly entranced. Holding a single almond in her mouth, she had yet to chew it, frozen in stunned silence from the very first note of Bai Yao’s singing.

Bai Yao’s performance of the ending theme for "You Are a Noble Corpse" was fierce and sharp, her vocal presence piercing like a solitary plum blooming in the snow, unrivaled among all beauties.

Zhao Jing thought Bai Yao’s husky voice suited rock music best, but unexpectedly, her jazz-inflected softness was equally moving, carrying a nostalgic, almost historic quality that was astonishing for a seventeen-year-old girl.

Though Bai Yao’s singing had some minor flaws, her powerful voice alone earned Zhao Jing’s wholehearted admiration.

Zhao Yan, too, was struck by a rare, thunderous sensation upon hearing Bai Yao’s rendition of “Intimate Lover.” The opening line felt like a soft, deliberate punch, gently swaying before her eyes but utterly stunning her.

Each carefully etched phrase felt like a slow yet firm blow to her heart.

A nostalgic soul, Zhao Yan preferred old songs like “Intimate Lover” and often played Joanna Wang’s version in her shop.

She found Joanna Wang’s rendition more enduring than Anita Mui’s original, with a soulful, record-like effect that never tired her.

Bai Yao’s version, in comparison, was like a cool breeze under the moonlight—both had their merits, which Zhao Yan found truly remarkable.

Joanna Wang’s version sounded like a pristine, flawless old record, each note perfect, with the needle’s friction producing impeccable sound.

Bai Yao’s voice lacked Joanna’s sultry laziness but carried a profound, enduring quality, like listening to a century-old, slightly flawed vinyl. The raspiness in her voice lent a sense of history and poignant beauty, deeply artistic and genuine.

Compared to Joanna’s languid tone, Bai Yao’s was mottled and timeless, bearing an aura and vintage feel far beyond her years—perhaps the greatest charm of her divinely gifted smoky voice.

Zhao Yan had never heard a voice so artistically rich because of its imperfections. It was like observing an eroded stone sculpted into a broken-armed Venus—its beauty was in its flaws.

This imperfect beauty moved Zhao Yan deeply. Huang Guolun, who recognized this unique charm in Bai Yao, earned Zhao Yan’s quiet admiration.

While others focused intently on Bai Yao, Zhao Yan stole a glance at Huang Guolun, who was concentrating on his piano.

His calm, steady presence reminded Zhao Yan of a seasoned elder cadre, stirring a small, unexpected flutter in her heart.

A few nights ago, lying in bed and drawing back the curtains, she had gazed over the dazzling, densely packed lights of Guomao from her high-rise room.

At that moment, she secretly wished that if anyone could kick Zhao Yijun out of her heart, it would be Huang Guolun.

Yet, the troublesome Zhao Jing, that wretched girl, had warned her on the night of her blind date with Huang Guolun that he considered them mismatched.

Zhao Jing had urged Zhao Yan to see Huang only as a friend, cautioning her against harboring any other feelings—trying to protect her from further hurt or wishful thinking.

But Zhao Yan, sensitive to emotions, already sensed that Huang Guolun felt no romantic interest toward her, treating her merely as a friend or a cherished younger sister.

Still, Huang Guolun’s presence rekindled a long-dormant spark of desire for love within Zhao Yan.

Whether she would eventually walk hand in hand with Huang Guolun or fall in love with someone else, at this moment, Zhao Yan sincerely thanked him for the heartfelt transformation, beauty, and joy music had brought to her.

Unlike Zhao Yan, who listened with a heart full of happiness, her deskmates Nanfang and Shen Yumeng were left dumbfounded by Bai Yao’s performance of “Intimate Lover.”

Earlier, Zhao Jing had told Shen Yumeng that Bai Yao’s voice was a divine gift, while Nanfang was not so blessed—something Shen had found hard to believe, thinking Zhao Jing was exaggerating.

Usually, Zhao Jing’s sharp tongue was unbearable—maybe too much of something like durian—but her words often proved true.

Now, after hearing Bai Yao sing, Shen Yumeng finally grasped just how far-sighted Zhao Jing’s praise had been.

After all, Bai Yao was only a high school student, yet her voice carried such depth and experience—it could only be described as a divine blessing.

Even more understanding was Nanfang, who had long regarded Huang Guolun and Bai Yao with mild disdain.

Hearing Bai Yao’s first note struck Nanfang like a thousand-point blow—he was utterly overwhelmed.

Her husky voice was not the rough, wild scream he had imagined but rather a finely sculpted tone, weathered and textured like time itself.

Such a voice was unique in the entire Chinese music scene, unmatched by any other.

Its distinctiveness made Nanfang’s envy nearly tear him apart. It was simply unfair that the heavens had bestowed this girl with both exquisite looks and such a singular voice.

She was, without doubt, a chosen one.

If she pursued a music career, fame would surely follow.

Nanfang, by contrast, struggled just to establish himself in the industry.

Comparing himself to Bai Yao made him furious. Watching her effortlessly radiate such brilliance and personality, Nanfang’s envy churned into a tempest, making him want to pound the ground and roar.

Yet on the surface, Nanfang maintained a veneer of coolness, unlike others who openly revealed their shock and admiration.

Wang Peng and the other college students were less pretentious than Nanfang.

As the song neared its end, with Huang Guolun’s piano still flowing, one particularly bold and shameless single man could no longer contain himself. He suddenly rose and confessed to Bai Yao:

“Goddess, I like you! May I ask if you need a provider, a bath ticket, or a boyfriend?”