Chapter Ten: There Is a Wall Around Your Heart, but I Found a Window

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The boy’s voice was clear, bright, and smooth. Though it was only a simple unaccompanied line, it surpassed everyone’s expectations.

The gentle, soothing melody seized everyone’s attention with ease. Just one line, and it truly evoked the blue sea and sky described in the lyrics—natural, relaxed, and content.

Entertainment novels are a little too fake...

Although this particular passage had been written by Yu Wei himself.

In novels, before the protagonist sings, some people look forward to it, some question him, and some dismiss him entirely. Yet he is always the focus of the entire venue.

But the truth was—

Nobody cared about a genuine nobody.

No one below the stage cared what he wanted to do.

Yu Wei stood onstage, adjusting the microphone. Before him, the audience chatted among themselves, gathering in groups of three or five and talking merrily, apparently already discussing where to eat afterward...

Rather than standing on a stage, he seemed more like a street musician.

Their performances were wonderfully simple. If someone put down a coin, they would bow courteously, greet the person, or invite them to request a song.

Even when no one paid, they would not feel dejected. They would simply continue playing, content with themselves—not for any particular reason, but because performing was how they pleased themselves.

Yu Wei understood now...

When his novels had bombed and nobody read them, he had thought the same way. First, write a story he himself enjoyed. Everything else could come later.

So what if no one listened to him sing? Even if no one listened, he would not abandon this book!

“One person gazing out at the blue sea and sky,

And in his heart, the gray grows a little pale.”

...

“Shh. Listen.”

Zhang Lingye interrupted his teammates, who had been laughing and chatting idly, and pointed toward Yu Wei, who was preparing to sing onstage.

“Listen to what? You want us to laugh at Wei with you? That’s a little—”

His complaint was cut short by Yu Wei’s singing. Gripping the sofa, he twisted around in an exaggerated pose, as though he could hardly believe his own ears.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a prerecorded track?

What the hell—was this live singing?

This was the first time they had realized that Yu Wei could shine so brilliantly. He was not a lamp powered by capital, but firewood burning by itself.

Qi Yuan rose from his seat in astonishment. The feeling was rather like walking along a dark road with a friend, only to glance back and discover that the other person had vanished.

Even at his very best, he would not dare claim that his unaccompanied singing could reach this level. Was this really the same Yu Wei they knew?

The boy’s voice was not especially resonant, yet the unaccompanied opening was plain and unadorned, with remarkable clarity and a vivid sense of imagery.

It felt like a story being told slowly and gently...

Yu Wei was neither hurried nor agitated, and he had no desire to put on a show. He simply wanted to sing a song.

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The soft melody drifted closer from afar, finally sounding beside their ears, as if it had approached with extraordinary care.

To everyone listening, the song told a story of mutual salvation—the story of one person trying to draw close to another’s inner world.

Even when the other person’s heart was guarded by an insurmountable wall.

Those who had been hurt would instinctively seal away their hearts, building layer upon layer of defenses and pretending to be cheerful. Yet the occasional uncertainty in their eyes could never lie.

Yu Wei sang a few simple lines a cappella before smoothly joining the guitar arrangement of his favorite song.

The crisp notes of the guitar rang like water bubbling over a spring, perfectly leading into: “I’m learning not to worry too far ahead. With fewer plans, I can dare to take a chance.”

With that transition, the quiet boy playing and singing onstage finally became the center of the entire venue.

From a gentle approach, the song turned into soft consolation. One person confided their heart, trying little by little to melt the wall that had stood there for so long...

The delicacy of it caught them by surprise.

But even the most attentive care could not break through a closed heart. The person was merely healing himself; he had no need for anyone else’s comfort.

JJ Lin’s love songs never wore love and longing openly on their sleeves, nor did they spill yearning and remembrance across the surface. Instead, they portrayed the characters’ inner worlds with extraordinary subtlety.

Love, yet restraint—that was the feeling many of JJ Lin’s songs gave him...

There was no bold, passionate confession, no struggle from being hopelessly lost in love, and no acceptance born of two people gradually drifting apart. There was only the hesitation and ambiguity of reaching out a hand, then drawing it back.

The words one wanted to say were written down, then deleted. And afterward, one simply remained rooted to the spot.

Truly exceptional music could move the human heart. Even though the audience had previously thought little of Yu Wei, they now found themselves instinctively wanting to keep listening.

In the eyes of these girls, was there not also a wall between themselves and their idols?

Once they placed themselves inside the song, its warm yet faintly sorrowful atmosphere spread through them in an instant, allowing them to feel that quiet loneliness for themselves.

After everything they had done, could they really cross that thick barrier?

No.

Along the way, they had gained the sense of achievement that came from following stars, emotional gratification, and the pleasure of moving themselves. But they had never received even the slightest response from their idols...

“The first time I met an overcast day, it hid the side of your face.”

Love was restrained. But the writer Eileen Chang had once said that what could not be restrained was what truly deserved to be called love. Love was not clear-headed.

Even while the other person remained in a period of healing, temporarily sealing himself away behind a wall of defenses, the song still chose to say: “I feel that I understand what makes you special.”

This inner conflict might sound a little sentimental, but it truly reflected the thoughts of many people. The melody was gentle, yet it nevertheless drew them into rare contemplation.

Love seemed to possess a kind of invisible magic, like a restless heart pulling him until, in the end, he extended that hand after all.

“Your heart has built a wall,

But I have found a window,

Now and then, a thread of gentle light shines through.”

The faintly sorrowful atmosphere vanished the instant those lyrics were sung. That warm light was cautious, meticulous, and real.

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Because of that single thread of light, the old wall quietly lowered its guard...

Many audience members had secretly begun recording the moment as a keepsake. It was as though they had witnessed some legendary scene that was never meant to be missed.

“Even if your heart has built a wall,

My love will climb to the windowsill and bloom.”

Love could be restrained, yet still brave. Even if the wall around the heart seemed impossible to cross, he would find a window in the other person’s soul and offer his own tenderness and goodwill through it.

It was rather good. Without realizing it, the audience had begun to look at Yu Wei differently. Had he written this himself, or had someone else helped him?

Before they knew it, they seemed to have witnessed a flower climbing over the wall around a heart and blooming there.

These lines were the song’s central theme, as well as the source of its title. The story was simple, the emotions pure: for each other’s sake, two people healed one another amid a complicated world.

The wall represented the emotional barrier erected for self-protection, while the window symbolized a hidden passageway of hope. The process by which love broke through the wall around the heart was also the process of healing.

Yet beyond its delicate portrayal of love, the song expressed something else as well.

The wall around the heart was a metaphor for the self. When someone entered one’s life, one might build a wall simply because one’s rhythm had been disrupted. Yet after enduring the vicissitudes of life, one could still continue to believe in a glimmer of light.

Yu Wei was singing about that second meaning. He might build a high wall against the absurd entertainment industry, but he still remained full of hope for the future.

Even if the fan economy had seeped into every inch of the entertainment industry, there were at least still street performers who immersed themselves in the art of their own music.

This was the mindset of someone whose work had bombed—and Yu Wei was a professional at that.

If there were no audience, then passersby would be his audience. If there were no stage, then the whole world would be his stage.

There would always be someone who stopped to listen.

Yu Wei had indeed achieved what he wanted. Once the song ended, he had successfully turned these “passersby” into his audience.

The people at the venue, however, had heard only the first layer. They had placed themselves inside the song, using “courage” to embellish their own behavior...

Sister, this is literally me!

Because of what they called empathy, some of them cried, while others sat in a daze. But their genuine emotions had nothing to do with the song itself. They were merely moved by their own self-sentiment.

The audience applauded frantically. Countless emotions found release through the song.

They still held on to their fantasies, imagining that their love, no matter how reckless, could melt the walls around their idols’ hearts, just as the song described.

But Yu Wei did not care what they thought.

He was not singing for them.

Compared with these people, he was far more concerned with whether his readers had returned...

“My book friends have forgiven me by now, right?”