Feb. 28th, 2023 at 10:31 AM
3.
Using the words “destined enemies[1]” to describe the relationship between Yan Jin and I would be the most appropriate.
We were born in the same year, the same month, and the same place. We lived in the same street, studied at the same elementary school and the same junior high school. We were admitted into different high schools and, after being separated for three years, we unfortunately tested into the same university.
It would be reasonable to say that this fateful relationship of ours is incredibly rare, not everyone can have something like it. Two people who, after many twists and turns from childhood until now, can always come back to one place must have a very deep relationship, and be the sort of intimate friends that could never be replaced.
However, Lady Luck likes messing with people——I’ve wondered countless times whether fate deliberately arranged it so that the two of us would be born with entirely opposite personalities, and that it just so happened that the other party was the type that we each hated most.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I can’t stand Yan Jin, and Yan Jin can’t stand me either. We hate each other, oppose each other, and provoke each other, or, to be more accurate, we secretly compete against each other. I grew a centimetre taller, and he just wanted to grow three centimetres; he passed the university entrance exam for a 985, and I just tested for a 211[2]; I dated the prettiest girl in my department, and he deliberately pursued the prettiest girl in campus; he was recruited by a well-known management company after graduating, so I also joined.
It’s just men’s vain rivalry. Really childish, I know.
But the two of us just couldn’t stop.
When the company was arranging our debuts after the trainees graduated, they expressed that, considering our strengths and selling points, and combining them with the current popular trends and market feedback, they had weighed the pros and cons and come to a conclusion: Yan Jin and I would debut as a duo.
The reasons for this were as follows: firstly, there hadn’t been any capable duos in the entertainment circle recently. Secondly, Yan Qin’s weak point was creation, and mine was stage performance, so we would be able to complement each other perfectly if we were to work together. Thirdly, and this was a reason I didn’t want to accept yet had no choice but to accept, my works and his singing were in astonishing coordination with one another, they were simply impeccable put together.
Even though we would get into huge fights locked inside the recording studio every time we had to write and record a song due to our differences in taste and ideas, and sometimes even hit each other, we would change our ways the next day due to the manager stepping in and personally persuading us to make up. We would put on an act and reconcile, showing fake smiles in front of the spectators at press conferences and concerts, engaging in a few familiar interactions that wouldn’t make people suspect anything, with friendly conversations and banter. No matter how craftily one tried to capture a photo, it wouldn’t reveal anything, we were the best and most adept at this superficial brotherhood act anyways.
Thinking back to that time, I was too short-sighted. I was only thinking about debuting as soon as possible and carelessly became Yan Jin’s partner, which was the biggest mistake of my life so far.
I spent three years paying for that stupid choice, paying a price comparable to splitting up my mind, and, having reached this point, I don’t want to torture myself anymore.
Granted, reality was just like the company had anticipated, our debut was greatly-received and we’ve maintained a beautiful record for these past few years, earning a lot of money, with a fixed fanbase, a steadily rising career, and great future prospects.
But I’ve had enough.
I took the music sheet and lyrics that had been completely messed up by Yan Qin and folded the stack in two, then tore it into pieces and tossed into the rubbish bin in the corner where toilet paper and takeout boxes were stacked.
“If you won’t leave, I’ll leave.”
I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him away forcefully, and his back slammed into the door with a bang, his eyes widened slightly, shock and surprise fleeting across his face.
I turned around and left, not looking back.
4.
When I stepped out through the entrance of the company, I glanced at my watch, it was almost 12 AM. The night sky was dark and gloomy, with no moon or stars to be seen. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, took out a black facemask out of the pockets of my trousers and put it on, then walked back through the front yard and the decorative shrubs as I went towards the desolate main street.
There weren’t many restaurants still open at this time, so I found a food stall nearby and ordered a midnight snack. I sat down at a low table and turned my phone off to prevent my manager from calling. I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.
My brain was numb, with all kinds of thoughts chaotically tangled up inside. Was I being haunted by jealousy? I was dissatisfied, unwilling to resign myself to forever be second fiddle to Yan Jin. When the audience talked about me, they would just laugh it off and collectively refer to me as “that guy that plays the guitar”, I’ve painstakingly written every song, yet can’t even compare to his good-looking face in front of the camera.
I wasn’t going to resign myself to that.
When my food arrived, I lowered my head and concentrating on eating, not thinking about anything else. Since I was so determined to break up the partnership, I didn’t care what Yan Jin would do.
There was no need for me to care about any of his opinions or resentment.
I didn’t immediately return to the recording studio after I finished eating, instead, I wandered about aimlessly outside, going for a walk in the park roads and sitting next to a flowerbed in the plaza for a while. There were some people who passed by going home late from work, but they couldn’t see my face clearly, nor did they recognise who I was.
I walked around until around half past one, guessing Yan Jin had probably already left the company and returned home. He wasn’t responsible for writing or producing the songs, so there was no need for him to stay behind so late.
I calmed down and thought about it. Just now I impulsively tore the sheet music, so I would probably have to spend the entire night re-arranging it, otherwise it would delay the production of the entire song.
I sighed as I rode the lift upwards.
I should also curb my disagreeable, volatile temper.
Sure enough, there was no one inside the recording studio, but the lights were on as if guessing I would come back. I shut the door and looked around both inside and out, and there really was no one there.
Yan Jin had left.
The window was open, and the blowing air scattered the remaining smell of tobacco inside. I walked in front of the mixing board and saw a few sheets of paper spread out in front if it, it was the sheet music I’d torn apart.
There were big and small pieces, and their creased edges were very hard to seamlessly join together, but they’d still been forcefully stuck together with pieces of Scotch tape of varying sizes, they were wrinkled and with some barely-legible handwritten musical notes, and there were a few small words written in the lower right hand corner.
“Knock it off.”
It was Yan Jin’s handwriting.
“I was wrong.”
I stood there for a while, picked up the paper and then put it back down, thought about it, then properly put it into the font pocket of my shirt.
It was a really bad job.
[1] The word 冤家 means enemy/foe, but it’s also used in opera to refer to destined lovers, so it’s commonly used as an endearing way to call sweethearts (esp. those who bicker a lot). ⤴
[2] Project 985 and Project 211 universities are elite institutions in government programs to promote education, there’s 39 universities in 985 and 112 in 211, though a few universities are in both lists. ⤴
