Chapter 106: Dew Turns to Frost

As the piano introduction to Green Trees Turn Yellow began to play, Bai Yao’s mind flashed back to the very first time she had heard the song.

It had been one night not long after her grandfather died.

She had been lying alone in her room.

The weather was not especially cold.

And yet the autumn night breeze slipping through the crack in the window still felt like knives against her skin.

From the window, she could see several stubborn vines crawling over the wall, their branches already yellowed and withered, yet still wedged into the seams of the bricks, unafraid of wind or rain.

At the sight, Bai Yao felt a sharp ache in her heart. She thought of herself as one of those lonely vines on the wall, struggling to live in humility.

Her grandfather had lived the same way: lowly, insignificant, with hardly a single good day in his whole life, always swallowing hardship.

Of course, there was no one else to blame for that. If blame there was, it could only be laid on themselves, for being too useless.

Come to think of it, her grandfather had never been especially good to her while he was alive. After all, she was not his own flesh and blood; he had only been the one who made do with raising her.

Once Bai Yao grew a little older and understood things, the two of them had always been taking care of one another.

From the first grade onward, Bai Yao had to go home after school every day and cook for her grandfather. She also had to clean the room, wash clothes, and do all sorts of chores that children her age could never have been expected to do.

Her grandfather treated her entirely like a servant. Though he would occasionally sneak her some snacks or toys to coax her, more often than not it was Bai Yao who was looking after him.

When he was young, her grandfather had been sent to prison three times. After he came out, he never worked again and lived on welfare. He was also notoriously idle, always up to no good, and in the alley he liked to lean on his age and play the bully. His reputation in the neighborhood was appalling.

Because he was always stealing, Bai Yao had more than once had to go to the police station to take her grandfather home. Every time, the officers would sigh and shake their heads for a long while, and the whole experience was mortifying beyond words.

The neighbors, too, were always pointing at the grandfather and granddaughter behind their backs.

From that time on, Bai Yao had already been subjected to other people’s contempt.

Growing up in such an environment, it would have been impossible for Bai Yao not to become someone apart from the crowd.

By then her face had already been disgraced along with her grandfather’s.

Since elementary school, Bai Yao had stopped caring much about what others said about her.

No matter what people said, she would force herself to live on with optimism and strength.

Although her grandfather had always caused trouble and embarrassed her, she had been raised by him after all. Her mother had left not long after giving birth to her, and in swaddling clothes it was her grandfather who had kept her alive one mouthful of goat’s milk at a time. For that kindness alone, Bai Yao would remember him for the rest of her life.

Even if the whole world stood against her grandfather, she would still unhesitatingly stand by his side and weather the storms with him, surviving together in humble determination.

But then, all at once, her grandfather was gone, and that sudden change was more than Bai Yao could bear at first.

When he left, he took with him the heaviest part of the kinship and burden that had lived in Bai Yao’s heart.

For a long while after that, Bai Yao always felt hollow inside, as though the whole of her being had grown lighter. Life seemed easier, yet her mood was strangely heavy.

Especially at night, when she slept alone at home and could no longer hear her grandfather’s breathing, that lonely feeling beyond the reach of the world pricked her like a needle and left her terribly at a loss.

She understood the truth that birth, aging, illness, and death were all part of life. But when the only person she had was gone in an instant, Bai Yao still felt bewildered and bereft.

Though she kept trying to suppress her sorrow, hoping it would not be set free like the monsters from Pandora’s box, deep down Bai Yao was truly in pain.

It was an unspeakable suffering, a grief that could neither be voiced nor released, and also a loneliness born from longing for love, only to find herself alone in the world after losing the last of her family.

That night, Bai Yao was once again lying helplessly on the bed, her eyes wide open as she watched the cold wind move outside the window.

She absently turned on the radio, and there drifted out Liu Xijun’s Green Trees Turn Yellow.

Just as the song said, the vines on the wall in front of her home had also been turned from green to yellow by the west wind in just a few days, making the whole scene especially desolate.

Feeling the stubborn refusal of those moonlit vines to be blown from the wall even in death, and listening to Liu Xijun sing Green Trees Turn Yellow, Bai Yao felt as if the vast force slowly erupting from within her body would crush her to pieces.

The bitterness she had held in her heart for so many days finally burst forth like floodwaters breaching a dam.

Thinking that her grandfather was gone, and that the difficult road ahead could only be walked alone, she felt an ache so deep it seemed to strike to the bone.

At the time, she clenched her teeth and tried to hold back her tears, but when grief surged like a rising tide, how could she possibly keep it in?

In the end, snot and tears poured down together; she really cried until she was a mess.

From that moment on, Liu Xijun’s Green Trees Turn Yellow took root deep in Bai Yao’s heart.

Bai Yao was not the sort of person who was sentimental or given to small affections. For the same thing, she rarely cried twice.

Later, whenever she heard Green Trees Turn Yellow again, Bai Yao no longer felt that heartbroken urge to cry.

And yet she would still feel a sour ache. She would still remember that night when she had cried like a wreck, and remember the deep love and longing for her grandfather that lay buried at the bottom of her heart.

When Huang Guolun was selecting the songs for her special concert, he chose all piano-accompanied pieces for Bai Yao. It made rehearsal easier for her, and also better showcased the jazz charm of her uniquely smoky voice, so that she would not have to alternate between piano and guitar arrangements.

He had asked her whether she had any particularly favorite songs that would suit a piano accompaniment and could be performed at this concert.

The first thing Bai Yao thought of was the piano version of Green Trees Turn Yellow.

It was the piano version she had listened to while crying her heart out.

After that, she had listened to the song countless more times and knew it by heart long ago.

That song was like some mysterious symbol through which she and her grandfather communicated across the distance.

She always felt that when the melody began, her grandfather would see her tears and also see her smiles, would see her striving to live well, and would then be able to rest in peace below.

For this special concert, Bai Yao carried a little private wish: she wanted to sing this song for her grandfather, to let him see how well she was living now.

She had not told Huang Guolun any of the song’s background.

Nor had she mentioned anything about her grandfather. It was too embarrassing, too hard to put into words, and she would never tell anyone about such things.

What she told Huang Guolun was simply that she liked the song and wanted to sing it.

Huang Guolun did not ask further. Since Bai Yao wanted to sing it, he would prepare it properly for her.

Before Bai Yao mentioned the song, Huang Guolun had not actually heard Green Trees Turn Yellow either. It was simply too obscure.

But after finding it and giving it a listen, Huang Guolun felt it really was excellent.

Liu Xijun was the kind of singer who might not seem astonishingly dazzling the first time you heard her, but after a few more listens, you would be drawn in by that gentle, unhurried voice, soft as fine wine yet astonishingly clear and pure, and would keep replaying her music, listening again and again to the little stories she murmured to you until your nose began to sting.

Liu Xijun’s performance in Green Trees Turn Yellow was already considered something of a classic. After hearing her version, Huang Guolun felt Bai Yao might have some difficulty singing it. Bai Yao’s voice was too deep, not transparent enough, lacking that crystal-bright timbre, and it seemed she might not be able to bring out the shimmering, orchid-scented autumn charm hidden within the song.

But when Bai Yao tried it in rehearsal, Huang Guolun was immediately astonished by her performance.

Unlike her singing of other songs, where her first attempts were often full of flaws and sounded rather amateurish, with Green Trees Turn Yellow, from the very first line of her trial sing, she had the sort of impact that made people feel as though they ought to kneel and listen.

Like Liu Xijun, Bai Yao began the song with a plain, understated approach. But because her voice was heavy and husky, even in that restrained opening she could already make people feel an emotion slowly rising through the air, pressed out by her singing.

As the performance continued, that feeling unfolded with complete ease, with not a trace of deliberate force, and in its quiet stillness one could taste the faint cold bitterness of a life like autumn.

Even with his miraculous ears, Huang Guolun had never expected Bai Yao to deliver the song with such feeling. She was carrying herself like a true master singer.

Compared with this one song alone, the flavor Bai Yao brought out was probably not far behind Adele’s.

What was more, every time Bai Yao rehearsed the song afterward, the feeling was a little different.

She sang it as though painting a picture—so natural, so freehand, with not the slightest trace of deliberate carving or design. Each time, she simply brushed it out in the moment, and emotion followed in effortless abundance.

Today, at the cat cafe rehearsal, when Bai Yao sang Green Trees Turn Yellow, she was once again sending a message of happiness mixed with sorrow to her grandfather, who had not yet fully fallen into his final sleep.

She hoped her grandfather could see how hard she was trying to live now. She also hoped he could rest assured that before long, she would certainly have him move into the most comfortable of mansions.

...

Evening, with violets beaded in tears

The thrush has flown away too, and the balcony lies cold and empty

At night the west wind turns all the green trees you loved to yellow

The streetlamp, as always, shines through the window on your back

That day I could not see where you were going

I could only stand alone on the rooftop

Not knowing where to send it, this letter I wrote to you

...

Under the cool-toned piano accompaniment, Bai Yao used a voice that held the whole room in its grip to sing the otherwise warm and lively cafe into an atmosphere of withered autumn woods and drifting leaves.

If the earlier song, Close Lover, was one everyone had already heard before, and hearing Bai Yao sing it again was mostly a matter of listening to her stir the melodies already living in their hearts, then Green Trees Turn Yellow was pure, soul-deep singing from Bai Yao, pouring into their hearts a profound melody steeped in late-autumn chill and frost.

Such an intensely expressive vocal performance left everyone in the cafe utterly stunned.