AUS Chapter 27: But I Still Prefer Liu Jiang on Stage

I asked, “Do you want to see me walk into the concert venue wearing this?”

He replied, “No, I just want to see what you look like in it.”

Ten minutes later, I emerged from the makeshift fitting room of the second-hand store. I was wearing the snakeskin-print pointed-collar shirt Liu Jiang had chosen for me, paired with shiny leather pants. I kept my canvas shoes on, firmly refusing the pointed Chelsea ankle boots he had also picked out.

Finally, I draped the mink coat over my shoulders. Liu Jiang was already on the floor, laughing so hard he was kneeling, pounding the floor with his fists.

“No way,” he said, “I have to take a picture of this.”

He took the camera out of the side pocket of his bass bag—he was actually still keeping his promise from the other day, using the camera every day.

I told him to wait, then picked out the most flamboyant pair of cheap sunglasses from the rack and put them on. Liu Jiang, who had just managed to get up, collapsed back onto the floor laughing. He was laughing so hard that even the store clerk looked over.

I said, “Stop laughing, you’ll mess up your makeup.”

He quickly straightened up, wiping the corners of his eyes with his fingers. Fortunately, his makeup was quite resilient. He looked up and asked me, “You noticed I was wearing makeup?”

I put the sunglasses back on the rack and replied, “I’m not that oblivious, okay?”

Because I wasn’t straight—at least not when it came to him.

Liu Jiang’s makeup today looked much more refined than last time. It was probably Liu Sisi’s work. Sure enough, he leaned closer to me, looking at the full-length mirror beside us, and then told me, “My sister did it. How is it? Not bad, right?”

Liu Sisi’s skills were indeed much better than Liu Jiang’s own.

There weren’t many noticeable traces of makeup on his face. At first glance, he just looked good. Looking closer, you could see that every contour, from his cheekbones to the tip of his nose, was perfectly defined. And he was close to me now, so I could see that his eyelashes were also longer than usual.

Damn, how did I manage to resist going to his performances before?

But then I criticized myself inwardly. If I hadn’t relived this, and hadn’t had the buff of being in the top ten in the midterms, I wouldn’t have been able to skip class so easily. Whether in the past or now, Yang Pingsheng was a good student who loved studying and obeyed the rules.

But now, the law-abiding Yang Pingsheng was wearing a mink coat.

Liu Jiang, standing beside me in front of the mirror, couldn’t help but laugh again.

That day, I experienced the joy of treasure hunting in a second-hand store after skipping class for the first time. However, since the performers had to be at the venue by six o’clock, we didn’t have time to try on all the clothes on the racks. In the end, I put the outfit that went with the mink coat back. I couldn’t wear that to a rock concert. I would definitely attract everyone’s attention—not because I looked cool, but because I would probably faint from heatstroke.

Finally, with Liu Jiang’s help, I chose an outfit: a white tank top, an amber-colored printed Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of linen pants.

After I fastened a wide leather belt that Liu Jiang handed me, he took a step back, squinted at me, and then handed me a pair of sunglasses with sandy pink lenses from the rack.

After I put them on, we looked at the mirror together.

Whoa, I looked incredibly rock and roll.

I had to admit, Liu Jiang had good taste. Perhaps wearing a school uniform every day suppressed his artistic side. Now, letting him choose my outfit resulted in a Yang Pingsheng completely different from before.

But the linen fabric wasn’t very comfortable. I tugged at the collar of the Hawaiian shirt. Liu Jiang stopped my hand, took some hair wax borrowed from the counter, and styled my hair.

At 5:50 pm, I entered the venue wearing a rock and roll outfit that cost less than three hundred yuan. Liu Jiang was beside me, and I felt his gait becoming increasingly swaggering.

So I swaggered along with him.

We swaggered all the way down the subway, but as we approached the concert venue, we both unconsciously became more serious.

Liu Jiang had told me before that this was his most formal performance since he started earning money. I didn’t understand performances; I had no idea. So, in my mind, it would be similar to the concert I had seen in college. Unexpectedly, the equipment here was comparable to a music festival, just on a smaller scale.

The performance was held in an open space near a coastal plaza. I could already see the light beams shooting into the night sky from a distance. Liu Jiang pulled me through the performers’ entrance. As soon as we entered, I was almost knocked over by the sound waves.

The venue was too noisy. Even though we were close, we had to shout to be heard. I shouted at Liu Jiang three times before he understood what I was asking. I asked him what kind of performance this was.

He shouted back, saying it was a performance by a famous band, who had invited a few local bands to warm up the crowd. He was playing with one of these local bands.

His voice, when raised, sounded more cheerful than usual. He explained to me, “But this performance might be different from what you imagine!”

Although the venue was large, they weren’t the headliners. The organizers had arranged a small tent. As a “family member” of the performers, I waited on a folding chair outside the tent.

Perhaps the scene was too chaotic; from this point on, I lost contact with Liu Jiang.

After sitting and waiting for about fifteen minutes, and receiving curious glances from the audience, I finally couldn’t sit still anymore and decided to go into the tent to see how their preparations were going.

I knocked on the hard partition outside the tent for a long time. It was too noisy inside, and my voice was too soft, so I didn’t get a response.

I braced myself and walked straight in, only to find the tent empty. I walked further inside and saw only a makeup artist wearing a mask. She looked at me in surprise and asked who I was looking for.

After hearing my description, she immediately knew who I was talking about. She gestured and said something, but I didn’t hear clearly, because the lights on the stage suddenly dimmed, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Smoke billowed onto the stage. The performers had taken the stage at some point. After a deafening strum of a guitar, I finally saw the performers’ attire.

Masks, straw raincoats, bamboo hats, arm guards, paper lanterns.

The music started, and I couldn’t find Liu Jiang—because everyone looked the same in this attire.

Listening to the drumbeat that was gradually picking up the rhythm, my eyes searched the stage. In the blue and purple beams of light, my gaze suddenly caught a glimpse of silver-white.

On the left side of the stage, the masked bassist turned to face the audience. The silver-white hair at the back of his head shimmered faintly, like a silverfish in the smoky haze.

I abruptly took a few steps forward, gripping the railing in front of me. The person behind the mask saw me too. After a chord, he raised his hand and pointed towards me.

Just like in my memory, this casual but meaningful gesture elicited countless screams from the people in front of and behind me. What was different this time was that I also yelled along with the crowd, but my voice was too soft, quickly drowned out by the tide of voices.

So, I also raised my hand, lifting it high with all my might, palm facing him, fingers pointing upwards. I was telling him that I saw him.

Through the mask, I naturally couldn’t see Liu Jiang’s expression on stage. But I don’t know if it was my imagination, his hand paused for a moment before retracting, almost missing the next chord.

Honestly, Liu Jiang was right. This performance was indeed different from what I had imagined.

It wasn’t the post-rock style that Liu Jiang usually liked. Even though I didn’t understand music, I knew this performance was much more niche than his usual style, especially when the lead singer’s voice, which sounded like firecrackers exploding in a metal can, came out. I felt like it was drowning out all the screams in the venue.

I seemed to vaguely remember what this kind of rock was called – what was it called?

Nu, nu-metal.

…

Perhaps not.

Amidst the wave after wave of cheers, I decided to give up thinking.

Although I couldn’t appreciate it, it didn’t stop me from swaying along with the audience. At the end of a song, during the intermission, the lights changed. Just as I was trying to squint to find them, something bumped against my shoulder.

It was Liu Jiang.

He had taken off his mask, but he was still wearing his straw raincoat-like costume. He bumped his shoulder against mine and then naturally stood beside me at the railing.

Perhaps because of the added stage makeup, his face was shimmering, and there were silver specks in his hair.

Seeing him, I couldn’t help but exclaim, “Damn, you even wore makeup when your face was covered on stage!”

The concert venue was loud, and my voice unconsciously kept getting louder. I suddenly realized that shouting was actually quite exhilarating. It felt like everyone was willingly going crazy with you, as if you could say things you normally wouldn’t dare to.

He shouted in my ear, “How else would you recognize me at a glance if I wasn’t a little special?!”

My neck went numb from the vibration. I pushed him away with a slap, and he chuckled, then leaned closer again after a while.

The performance ended at 8:45 pm. The subway back to the city stopped running at 9:00 pm. We sprinted through the underground passage and arrived at the subway platform before the last train announcement.

I couldn’t remember what it felt like after a concert in reality. Anyway, I felt very excited now—a light and tireless excitement. I finally understood why large parties often had after-parties. The current atmosphere was perfect for finding another place to have a couple of drinks, to hear myself speak with more confidence and charm than usual.

It was a pity that we were still high school students, not yet at the age where we needed nightlife to prove our charm.

There weren’t many people on the last subway. We chose a car near the end. Liu Jiang changed back into his ripped sweater, carrying his bass bag, his silver hair still shimmering with glitter, and stood with me at the junction between cars.

Liancheng was quite tolerant. Our outlandish high school student attire didn’t attract much attention from the late-night commuters. On the contrary, everyone here seemed to have a more interesting story than us.

The subway had emerged above ground. Liancheng outside the car window was vast and quiet. The distant lights indicated that everyone here had their own lives, their own stories.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget the boundary I had seen in the lobby, imagining this city as a truly living entity.

Suddenly, I heard Liu Jiang call my name beside my ear. I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me sideways. We held each other’s gaze for a longer time than usual.

I thought the main reason was that he looked really good today.

The makeup artist must have touched up his makeup. His features were more defined than usual, every strand of hair at the tips perfectly in place. He was looking at me, his lips pursed.

He asked me, “Are you staying at my place tonight?”