Chapter 87: Suddenly, I Miss You So Much

“Sister Huan, could you please not interfere? Today’s just a sound check—let Mr. Huang play as he likes.”

Zhao Jing put a stop to Huanzi and turned to Huang Guolun. “Mr. Huang, the piano was a bit overpowering just now—it drowned out your vocals. You might want to keep the microphone closer.”

Earlier, Huang Guolun had sung straight through without interruption, so Zhao Jing had waited until now to comment.

Catching her meaning, Huang Guolun pulled the mic stand closer, played a few notes, and asked, “How is it now?”

Zhao Jing replied, “That’s better. Try singing another song, anything you like.”

Liu Xiaowei persisted, “How about ‘Xi Shua Shua’?”

Su Ling kicked him in annoyance. “Go stand over there! Mr. Huang, please sing a song of your choosing—preferably one you wrote yourself. Sister Yan and Sister Jing both said your original work is amazing.”

Huang Guolun thought for a moment, flexing his nimble fingers over the black and white keys. “Alright, I’ll sing something I wrote myself.”

He said this, but with so many “new songs” swirling in his mind, he couldn’t immediately decide which to sing.

The café quickly fell utterly silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone waited with bated breath for Huang Guolun’s original music.

Perhaps the mood of longing had already been brewing during his earlier rendition of “Happy Break-Up.” Now, in the sudden stillness, that feeling sharpened to a needle, piercing Huang Guolun’s heart and letting a haunting melody spill into his mind.

He closed his eyes, let his heart guide him, and let his fingers glide across the keys, releasing the melody that filled his soul.

The song he was about to sing was nothing less than the cry of his own heart—“Suddenly Missing You So Much.”

Driven deeper by the wave-like piano prelude, Huang Guolun began to sing, slowly and with feeling:

“... Most afraid of the air growing suddenly still
Most afraid of friends suddenly showing concern
Most afraid of memories suddenly surging, twisting in pain without cease
Most afraid of suddenly hearing news of you
...
If longing had a sound
I wish it weren’t sorrow’s weep
Now, at last, I belong to myself
Only tears still cannot deceive me
...
Suddenly missing you so much—where are you now
Are you happy, or suffering
Suddenly missing you so much, as memories cut sharp
And eyes grow suddenly blurred
...
We were once the loveliest song
Now we’ve become two sad films
Why did you take me on the most unforgettable journey
And leave behind the most painful keepsake
...”

His singing remained as weathered and restrained as ever, flowing without pause.

If the previous “Happy Break-Up” was a bittersweet net that trapped everyone in inescapable melancholy, then “Suddenly Missing You So Much” was a rolling blade, carving into the heart and dredging up nothing but painful memories.

Each of us harbors a few regretful memories deep inside. When they’re touched and come flooding back unbidden, that aching sorrow, though not enough to shatter us completely, feels like a blunt knife scraping the heart—bitter and unbearable.

For everyone in the café, it was their first time hearing “Suddenly Missing You So Much,” but its emotional resonance hit them all, right from that first listen.

Even chubby Liu Xiaowei, who’d never been in love before, felt as if he’d lived through a profound romance, a dull ache settling in his chest.

In the game of love, Zhao Jing had always played the queen, but even she felt her tough exterior stripped away by Huang Guolun’s song, exposing the soft, sensitive part within.

The weight of the lyrics—“Suddenly missing you so much”—pressed down on her through noise-canceling headphones, leaving her breathless. She too longed, suddenly, for someone to miss that way.

Truth be told, among all her previous, fleeting romances, none had ever moved Zhao Jing so deeply or left her with such longing. Yet sometimes, she’d recall someone, a fragment of a happy affair.

She’d always believed that these light, harmless romances were joyful and to be savored—far more interesting than the heavy, solemn kind that came with vows of undying devotion.

Until now, she’d never wanted that kind of serious love, even looking down on those who did as foolish. She’d never be a love-struck fool like her sister.

But struck by Huang Guolun’s soulful singing, Zhao Jing suddenly felt that even a love full of sadness and regret could be meaningful. Such a love, though painful, was what it meant to be truly unforgettable.

If someone went through life without ever experiencing a love that branded itself so deeply, as Huang Guolun or her sister had, then they would surely regret it in old age.

She found herself yearning for such a fated encounter, to throw herself into love’s fire without a second thought, just once, as her sister had.

Huang Guolun himself was swept away by the emotion of “Suddenly Missing You So Much,” his longing surging within him.

He’d always tried to suppress his feelings—he hadn’t let them fully erupt during the first chorus. But longing is a volcano; suppressing it only makes the pressure mount.

Sure enough, midway through the song, cracks appeared in his restraint. Like a storm bursting through a window, a tidal wave of longing broke free.

Though longing brings no benefit, perhaps bittersweet sorrow is its own kind of wildness.

The keys beneath his hands suddenly grew passionate. His voice soared, phrase by phrase, pouring out all the unforgettable memories he’d kept locked away:

“We were so sweet, so beautiful, so trusting
So wild, so fervent in our past
Why must we now
Each grow old in our own separate happiness and regret
...
Suddenly missing you so much! Where are you now!
Are you happy or suffering!
Suddenly missing you so much! Memories cut so sharp!
Suddenly my eyes blur!
...”

With each repetition of “Suddenly missing you so much,” Huang Guolun’s voice became a blade of steel, slicing into everyone’s heart, echoing all the way up to the distant heavens.

He longed to know where Chen Jia was now—was she happy, or burdened with sorrow? Was she, in heaven, just as lonely as he was?

The thought brought a wave of helpless grief crashing over him.

Of everyone present, no one resonated more with the song’s emotion than Zhao Yan.

From the very first line, she felt as though she’d been struck. Every lyric seemed written for her.

Following Huang Guolun’s mood, Zhao Yan tried hard to suppress her own yearning. She knew how much she missed that man, but forced herself not to think of him.

Her emotional restraint mirrored Huang Guolun’s own control as he sang. But when his longing finally broke free, Zhao Yan’s defenses collapsed completely.

After the song’s emotional climax, every rhetorical question in the lyrics was one she longed to ask Zhao Yijun.

Just as Huang Guolun sang—they’d once been the most beautiful song, but now were two sad films. Why did he take her on such an unforgettable journey, only to leave her with the most painful keepsake?

They’d loved so sweetly, so beautifully, so wildly, so passionately—why must they now grow old in their own separate happiness and regret?

On the piano keys, he spoke of longing—those same moonlit nights that once lit the clouds as they returned home.

Emptied out by the song, Zhao Yan wished she could be as reckless as Zhao Jing, to storm Zhao Yijun’s wedding and shout in his face, demanding to know why things had turned out this way.

But she was not Zhao Jing. Such wild, world-burning acts were only dreams for her.

Yet, she truly wanted to see Zhao Yijun’s wedding. She wanted to see what kind of person he’d chosen in the end.

“I know your temper.
I’ve seen your talent.
I’m aware of your faults.
I know all of your sides.
Now, the only thing I want to see is what you’re like when you no longer belong to me—I really want to see...”

As Huang Guolun’s voice faded to a hush, Zhao Yan’s eyes brimmed with tears she could not hold back.

“... Most afraid of the air growing suddenly still
Most afraid of friends suddenly showing concern
Most afraid of memories suddenly surging, twisting in pain without cease
Most afraid of suddenly hearing news of you
Most afraid that I’ve resolved to live my life without you
Yet I suddenly hear news of you
Most afraid that I’ve resolved to live my life
Without you, yet suddenly
I hear news of you
...”

The river runs to the sea, and calm returns.

As Huang Guolun finished singing, it was as if an emotional brand had been seared into everyone’s heart—the song “Suddenly Missing You So Much” left its mark on them all.

The song didn’t just move Zhao Yan to tears. Huanzi and Su Ling also found their eyes wet with emotion.

Such intimate, heartfelt singing was something the girls had never experienced before. In his soulful performance, it was as if they were watching the most wrenching Korean drama—sentimental, yes, but if you let yourself be drawn in, the pain was gut-wrenching and inescapable.

Especially when Huang Guolun’s signature, world-weary voice called out “Where are you now?”—the sound was like a lightning bolt, blood-soaked and sorrowful, splitting every heart open. Anyone who’d ever been in love would feel a powerful resonance, their eyes stinging, their throats tightening.

Even Zhao Jing, who prided herself on her “heart of stone,” was moved to softness by Huang Guolun.

She found herself more and more in awe of his musical genius. In a Chinese music scene starved for memorable new songs, Huang Guolun could casually produce one that struck straight to the soul—his talent was simply extraordinary!

If nothing else, Zhao Jing truly admired his gift. To call his music astonishingly brilliant was no exaggeration.

Meanwhile, the livestream audience had surpassed three thousand viewers.

Yet the chat was no longer chaotic; on the other side of every screen, it seemed as though each lonely heart had been struck by Huang Guolun’s deeply moving music.

They all listened in silence, unable to get enough even as the last notes of the piano faded.

At last, as the final melody settled into stillness, a torrent of praise erupted in the discussion area.