Mi Cai didn't reply to my message until I was almost done with my cigarette. "You're wrong," she texted, "What I like is: the snowy winters of Hailar, the singing of three sets of car stereos, the gentle summer nights by the Yimin River, the sound of the accordion drifting... this line!"

I wasn't surprised by Mi Cai's answer. Our different preferences were due to our different experiences. I liked the life depicted in the lyrics, while she was fascinated by the scenery. But what did it matter? At least we both found something in this song.@@novelbin@@

I stubbed out my cigarette and, ignoring the strange looks from passersby, lay down next to a tree. I didn't think I was acting drunk, I was just really tired. And being tired was good, at least I wouldn't hear the loud cracks of my wounds.

My consciousness was blurry, but the ringing of my phone woke me up again. I struggled to answer, stuttering out a few "hellos".

"Zhao Yang, have you been drinking?"

Facing Mi Cai's question, I denied it, saying, "No."

"Then sing the song you just sang for me again."

Under the continuous stimulation of alcohol, my consciousness was blurred, I couldn't even remember the lyrics, let alone sing them completely. I impatiently said, "Good songs aren't sung twice."

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