A Young Woman's Heart

If it's really to attract customers, shouldn't they at least show some pictures of handsome men?

This mirror didn't originally belong to anyone in the classroom; Mo Xueyao found it in the stairwell today when she went upstairs.

The item looked cheaply made, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would come to claim it. She waited there for a while, and when no one came, she took it back to the band room.

Place it in front of you.

Although she looks in the mirror much more often now than when she was a boy, she is still the kind of person who doesn't look in the mirror very often.

Because she always felt that it would be strange to look at herself in the mirror.

The feeling was subtle. Sometimes I felt awkward looking at myself in the mirror, and other times I was drawn to her and became completely absorbed in her beauty.

She was looking at herself in the mirror, combing her hair.

My bangs look a bit odd, and no matter which way I comb them, they don't feel quite right.

She tried to lift her bangs to reveal a broad forehead, and suddenly felt that the girl in the mirror looked somewhat like Li Wanyan.

The illusion she had in her daze even startled herself.

No wonder people used to include mirrors in horror stories; it's probably because they sometimes carry a peculiar and magical quality.

"Yah-hoo—!" Hua Yinyin's sudden scream as she pushed open the door interrupted Mo Xueyao's 'self-admiration'.

She looked up in a bit of a panic and saw the other person walking over with a refreshed expression.

"What are you doing?"

She flipped the mirror over on the table and glanced at Hua Yinyin.

"Hey, Yaoyao, where did you get this mirror? It looks like the kind you often see at street stalls."

"It's the kind of style you find at street stalls. I picked it up in the stairwell, waited a while and no one came looking for it, so I just brought it back."

"Ugh, you're even greedy for such a small advantage!"

"What? I just thought it was pretty clean, so I brought it here in case you need it."

"I have my own little mirror!" Hua Yinyin said, then touched her pocket. "Huh...where's my mirror?"

Lost?

"That's impossible. I remember just using it and even fixing my bangs... Hey—has Xiaoyao seen my mirror?"

"You just came in from outside, how could I have seen you?"

"Yeah, that's true... That's strange..."

"Hey, let's not talk about that mirror for now. Didn't you have something to say earlier?"

"Oh, finally some work!" Hua Yinyin touched the pockets on both sides of her skirt, then the pockets of her clothes, and walked out of the band room, looking around. Her voice carried from afar and was a little hard to hear.

"What kind of work is it?"

Mo Xueyao followed her out and saw a pink plastic object lying quietly on the ground at the corner.

Is that your mirror?

"Yes, that's it!" She rushed over, picked up the mirror, blew off the dust, and put it back in her pocket.

As the weather gets cooler, many girls have already put on long-sleeved jackets, and Hua Yinyin is one of them—this jacket has two fairly deep pockets, which are very convenient for putting things in.

She had just put the mirror back in her pocket when she couldn't help but take it out again to look at it. Only after confirming that the mirror was not broken did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong? Is this mirror expensive?"

"Not really, it's just that I really like this pattern. I bought it when I was in junior high school, and it seems like you can't buy mirrors with this pattern anymore."

The outside of this folding mirror is decorated with pink cat patterns, each with a different pose. Mo Xueyao looked around and couldn't find any cats making the same action repeatedly.

Lively, mischievous, and adorable—that suits Hua Yinyin's personality quite well.

"Oh right, where were we? Hmm—right, the school assigned us some work, we have a performance!"

"Huh?" Are you asking us to perform for our senior year students?

"That's right! But the school band will also be participating this time."

Mo Xueyao immediately understood what she meant. She lazily walked back to her seat and picked up the ordinary-looking plastic mirror again: "So, we're actually just an afterthought?"

"We're the grand finale!! The last ones to appear!"

Mo Xueyao didn't care at all whether it should be called 'the grand finale' or 'the final act'; she only knew that Hua Yinyin was bragging again.

Where are you going to perform this time?

"Let's go to the nursing home during the Mid-Autumn Festival!"

"Last time it was an orphanage, this time it's a nursing home..." Mo Xueyao sighed helplessly, "I wonder what this nursing home will be like, will it be as dilapidated as last time?"

"I don't know—anyway, let's get ready!" Mo Xueyao shook Hua Yinyin's head vigorously, her little face full of excitement. "Anyway, it's time for us to show our skills!!"

"Are we using the same songs again this time?"

"Hmm—no need. After Shu'er got drunk that day, she rested in the band room for an afternoon. She scribbled some lyrics on my draft paper, and I thought they looked pretty good, so I helped her refine and polish them!"

"Huh, I've never heard of it before. What's it like?" Perhaps she was tired of playing with it, Mo Xueyao casually tossed the cheap red plastic mirror into the drawer, then lay down on the table, tucking her small hands into her sleeves, leaving only a few slender, white fingers sticking out.

"Let me look—" Hua Yinyin immediately sat down and started rummaging through the underside of the table.

Yu Shu had actually just tidied up, but it soon became a complete mess again.

It's like a miniature general store; you can always feel like you can find anything in it.

A loud crash rang out, and the thermos in the drawer was knocked off. This thing looks like Mr. Xue's…

Why did he join in the fun and stuff things into this messiest drawer?

Even though it was the lyric book she had been using recently, Hua Yinyin searched for it for quite a while.

Everyone else had already eaten lunch and had come to the band room.

"Scattered picks, discarded scraps of paper, drumsticks of various colors..." Mo Xueyao frowned slightly. "Did you polish or revise it at all? It sounds like a limerick."

"Little Yaoyao, you don't understand, do you? This is called returning to simplicity! Abandoning those fancy words and using the beauty you feel to write poetry!"

"...So long."

"It's okay, this is how you get into the right mood!"

"Are you sure you want to use this?" Wang Jiale, who had just entered the classroom, skipped over. She was the first to discover the lyrics written by Yu Shu.

"Where's the music?" Mo Zhuyou pressed. "Please, Yinyin, your music always makes the drum set work so hard. Can't you change it up to some music that doesn't require a drum set?"

"Then what do I need you for?" Hua Yinyin rolled her eyes. "The drum set is the soul of our band, it's absolutely indispensable!"

"What I mean is, give me less..."

"If you give less, you won't get that feeling of the 'soul' being omnipresent!"

"You have so many demands..." Mo Xueyao glanced at her helplessly, rested her head on the back of Hua Yinyin's hand, poked her chin hard, and shook it mercilessly.

"Ouch—it hurts a little... What I said earlier was the truth!"

"It feels like they're deliberately making things difficult for Youyou."

"If I were deliberately trying to make things difficult, why wouldn't I choose Yu Shu? She's obedient and easy to bully~"

Yu Shu had just walked into the classroom when she heard her own name called, and her expression immediately became a little nervous.

"Shu'er, speaking of your nazheng, how about we try adding some richer drum sounds to the shoulder-mounted keyboard? That way, if Youyou forgets how to play the later parts in the future, you can quickly fix it for her! Yes, that's it!"

Mo Xueyao poked her chubby little face with her middle finger. The smooth and elastic skin made her unable to resist pinching it again.

"Hey, Shuer, you're the last one to get the notice! We're going to perform at the nursing home for the Mid-Autumn Festival!"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, it won't be difficult!"

Mo Zhuyou, who was sitting in a chair twirling a drumstick, yawned widely and asked in a low voice, "Speaking of which, when is the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

"This month, I guess?" Hua Yinyin herself wasn't sure.

"This year, the Mid-Autumn Festival and National Day fall on the same day." Mr. Xue is like a search engine on the internet, always able to answer my questions when I need them.

"Tsk, National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival coincide, does that mean we have one less day off?"

"No way?" Mo Xueyao still couldn't accept this fact.

"If the Mid-Autumn Festival had been celebrated a day earlier, we might have been able to start setting off fireworks on the 30th!"

"Wait, wait, when did our country ever have a holiday for the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

"Norway South Korea takes a whole week off."

"...Do they celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival too?" Wang Jiale asked blankly, his gaze fixed on Hua Yinyin.

But the one who answered her was Mo Zhuyou. As if it were an occupational hazard, she unconsciously tapped the table with her drumsticks while lazily muttering, "I heard they have a three-day holiday for the Mid-Autumn Festival over there."

However, in this era when the Mid-Autumn Festival is not yet a statutory holiday, everyone can only dream about it.

In fact, regardless of whether it coincides with National Day or not, it will not be a holiday.

It's impossible even in half a day.

"Hey, hey, hold on a minute, hold on a minute. What we were discussing at the beginning was which songs we should sing when we go on stage."

"That song is definitely a must, I can finish the melody tonight!" Hua Yinyin stared intently at Yu Shu. "Hmm... let's leave the lyrics as they are, no need to change them! For the rest, let's just use the songs we're more familiar with, okay?"

"Of course, everyone usually doesn't have time to practice."

“Right!” Wang Jiale glanced at Yu Shu sideways. “Don’t be lazy, it’s tea time now, no… practice time!!”

……

Chapter Twenty-Three: Let Me Clear My Head on My Own

(One)

"Zhengyang!" The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the middle-aged man's rough, wrinkled face. If you didn't know him, you would probably think he was just an ordinary old farmer, not the owner of several large farms.

Huang Zhengyang's wheat-colored skin seemed to have turned even browner. He wiped the sweat from his face with the towel hanging around his neck: "Hey, what's wrong, Uncle Wang?"