Chapter 101: A Stone

The 2002 Hefei Crawfish Festival left everyone with an indelible impression of all kinds of spicy, delicious crayfish. For many people in Hefei, it was the first time they realized that this humble little creature, usually deemed unworthy of the spotlight, could undergo such a dazzling transformation and become a fashionable delicacy. Beer paired with crayfish had never tasted so good.

Yet the opening performance on the day of the festival was swiftly forgotten in the city-wide craze for eating crayfish. Few people remembered that there had once been a band on stage, singing two rather mediocre songs.

But the fact that the public forgot doesn't mean that Zhang Tan and the Drift Band's show simply faded into oblivion. In fact, after the performance ended that day, quite a few crayfish restaurant owners came to the organizing committee, asking for the band's contact information, hoping to play “Stones of Hefei” in their establishments.

One has to admit, lyrics like “Sanli Street, Sipailou, Women’s Street, turning onto Changjiang Road” held an enormous appeal for locals. After Zhang Tan and the others finished singing, you could hear young people humming “Sanli Street, Sipailou” as they headed out for crayfish.

Upon learning of the restaurant owners’ requests, Zhang Tan cheerfully uploaded the audio file of the song online, letting owners download it themselves. Those with a bit of tech savvy quickly had “Sanli Street, Sipailou” playing in their restaurants.

Of course, in most places, the air was filled with the strains of “Spicy Crawfish.”

“You want me to eat more spice, I’m not afraid of heat, you are my little crayfish.”

Even when Zhang Tan reunited with his parents and family to dine at the uniquely fragrant Crayfish House, “Spicy Crawfish” was playing inside. Zhang Tan couldn’t help but marvel at how well the festival’s theme song had been promoted—it had “entered the halls of every home.” While eating crayfish, it was almost impossible not to remember the tune.

After finishing his meal to the sound of his own music, Zhang Tan was hurried back to school by his parents. His singing had already taken up too much of his study time.

Last month’s midterm results were disappointing. From thirty-ninth place at the end-of-term exam before the New Year, he had slipped to forty-first. Ever since his first exam, Zhang Tan’s grades had been on a downward trend: thirty-sixth at the first semester’s midterms, thirty-ninth at the end, and now forty-first.

The decline was obvious.

He really did need to buckle down and stabilize his grades, if he still had any thoughts of going to university.

He did, of course, still want to go—not with burning ambition, but being admitted to college would fulfill a long-held wish, and would also comfort his parents.

If he had the ability, why shouldn’t he try?

“Go for it, young man!”

…

Zhang Tan withdrew into himself—burying his head in books and in writing.

After basking in the limelight for two songs, Drift Band too declared “game over,” each member busying themselves with the daily grind of their music studio, hustling to put food on the table.

That’s how life often is—passing by, day after day.

Every day, countless ordinary people have no choice but to keep their heads down in monotonous, repetitive work.

Xiaoping was just such a girl.

She left home promptly at six-thirty in the morning to catch the bus, arrived at work by seven, and worked all day, only grabbing a quick snack from a street vendor at lunchtime.

After six in the evening, she could finally pack up and board the bus home. As dusk fell, Xiaoping would return to her familiar, aging neighborhood, entering the dim, narrow stairwell. After a few turns, she reached her tiny room on the third floor, her own little snail shell. Without resting, she cooked a bowl of noodles on the small stove by the door.

Cradling the steaming bowl, she set it on her nightstand. She reached into a drawer for a radio, tuned it, and locked onto Anhui Music Radio.

On air was a program about music, life, and emotion. The host, Shen Yun, spoke with a gentle voice, her words floating through the air and filling the tiny room: “Whenever people ask me how I feel when hosting a radio show, I always tell them: speaking into the microphone, I can feel my voice drifting over the city, carried by the broadcast.”

“It’s as if I’m bringing a bit of liveliness to this city. In truth, Hefei is a very quiet city. Walking home from work at night, the streetlights stretch my shadow long; the occasional speeding car, the scattered pedestrians, they all bring me messages from this city—quiet, like a stone, always here.”

“Now, I’d like to play a very special song for everyone. I discovered it through a friend. It has a heartwarming name—‘Stones of Hefei,’ performed by Zhang Tan and the Drift Band. I couldn’t find much information about them, but I heard vaguely that they are amateur musicians from Hefei.”

“Let’s enjoy this song about Hefei, sung by Hefei people, together.”

The airwaves carried “Stones of Hefei.”

Zhang Tan’s clear voice, accompanied by the gentle melodies of guitar and other instruments, soared and fell in waves.

Unfamiliar lyrics, familiar place names, an unhurried melody—all exuded a gentle warmth. Xiaoping felt as if her heart had been struck. Living adrift in Hefei, was she not just like one of Hefei’s stones?

“To speak of life is to speak of promises—my promise is a stone. Every day, passing the clock tower on the way to work, you realize time is never quite right. Yet the days go by, one after the other, as you watch me, all five foot three. Yet the days go by, one after the other, as I watch you grow older, layer by layer.”

“But still, we have to rely on each other to get by.”

“Hefei’s life, Hefei’s promises, Hefei’s gentleness, Hefei’s stones…”

The song finished, and Shen Yun began sharing other stories.

But Xiaoping was no longer listening. Her feelings surging, she set her bowl of noodles aside, fished her diary from under her pillow, and leaned over her desk to write.

“It’s been two years since I came to Hefei… Time flies, and I haven’t earned much yet… I wonder how Mom and Dad are doing back home. I can’t bring myself to call… Did Grandma’s cough get better? Did she receive the new clothes I sent last time? Will my brother be able to get into a good college next year?”

“Tonight I heard a song called ‘Stones of Hefei.’ It felt like it was sung just for me… Everything’s fine in Hefei, even if I’m just a stone lying quietly by the roadside, I’m already very happy. I have food, shelter, work—when I’ve saved enough, I’ll bring Mom and Dad here, and we’ll stay in Hefei for good.”

“And, I hope I can find someone for myself… Yet the days go by, one after the other, as you watch me, all five foot three. Yet the days go by, one after the other, as I watch you grow older, layer by layer… la la la.”

Closing her diary, Xiaoping picked up her bowl and finally ate her noodles with gusto, listening as Shen Yun continued to speak of the romance of everyday life.

Even a seemingly insignificant stone has its own life, its own promises, its own tenderness, doesn’t it?

“Stones of Hefei,” quietly and unassumingly, began to spread from person to person in Hefei.

There was no need to know who sang it.

It was enough just to love it.