Chapter Twenty-Seven: Friendship, Love

Night had fallen, yet the “Tang Dynasty” bar was, as always, packed to capacity from the moment it opened. This had become the norm lately. If not for the bar’s steadfast adherence to its own principles—never admitting more guests once full—the neighboring bars would have had a reason to despair. Still, no matter how popular it was, the bar could only accommodate a few hundred guests at a time, whereas the nightly throngs wandering and spending in the area numbered in the thousands.

Sister Mei had graciously reserved a secluded table for Lin Qihua, ensuring he wouldn’t be disturbed. When Han Dong arrived at the table and saw Qin Lulu already seated there, he froze, clearly not expecting her to be present.

“Sit down,” Lin Qihua said, pulling him into a seat.

“Dongzi,” Qin Lulu took off her sunglasses, revealing a radiant smile, “it’s been a long time.”

“It has,” Han Dong forced a stiff smile.

Qin Lulu was much more at ease than he was; noticing his discomfort, she took the initiative. “Thank you for your help during this recent ordeal. I hadn’t expected that in the end, I’d still need your help to resolve things—just like before.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do.” Han Dong was restless, his gaze wandering repeatedly to the world outside.

“Oh come on, what are you so nervous for?” Lin Qihua said, half exasperated, half amused. In front of Qin Lulu, Han Dong was a far cry from his usual self. “You two sit here. I’ve ordered drinks for us. Tonight, everything’s on me. I have to go get ready for my set.”

With that, he ignored Han Dong’s pleading glance and walked away. In his view, unless Han Dong could overcome this barrier, he would never escape Qin Lulu’s shadow, regardless of how things developed between them. Whatever tangled fate awaited the three of them, it was best left for Han Dong to unravel.

“You’re leaving after tonight, aren’t you?” Once Lin Qihua was gone, Qin Lulu’s smile faded, her tone wistful.

“Yes,” Han Dong nodded.

“Is it because of me? She doesn’t want you living in my shadow forever. She hopes you’ll have the courage to step into the light, to reach a place where you can be openly together with her. Is that it?”

“No,” Han Dong blurted, but could not find any words to refute her.

Qin Lulu laughed softly, “Dongzi, you haven’t changed. You still don’t know how to say no, never willing to hurt anyone but yourself. That’s why I accepted her kindness too—I want to see you step forward.”

“You two…” Han Dong scratched his head helplessly.

“She’s wonderful, Dongzi, I understand that now. I was so selfish before, always wanting to keep you close, never realizing how unfair it was to you. I thought I could break free from my own chains by sheer will, but in the end, it was you who had to help me. Does that make me useless?” Qin Lulu looked up, tears streaming down her face.

“No, you’re already amazing, truly.” Han Dong handed her a tissue, his voice trembling. “You’re strong, you’re smart. It’s just… the world can be harsh, and some chains are simply too strong.”

Qin Lulu wept quietly. Han Dong wanted to comfort her, but the image of another smiling face, the soft voice calling him “Dongzi,” flashed through his mind. His movement stilled, and he slowly withdrew, hanging his head in sorrow.

On stage, Lin Qihua stood before the microphone, the memories of Han Dong and Qin Lulu’s journey together flooding his mind. He gripped the mic, scanned the crowd, and in a low, resonant voice, said, “Tonight, two very important friends of mine are here. They met, grew close, fell in love, but for many reasons, have had to endure much pain. Love always brings wounds, yet it remains endlessly alluring. Perhaps there is no perfect ending, but to have loved is to possess eternity. This song is for them, and for all who have loved or still love. May all lovers find their happy ending.”

Applause broke out. Those who knew Lin Qihua well were especially excited—he was about to perform a new song. Every time he sang something new, it was a journey for the soul. Tonight’s song, it seemed, would be about love.

A gentle prelude began, like lovers murmuring in the night.

“Yesterday you told me you were leaving,
This life made you feel so sad.
You asked what I planned to do,
I smiled and simply said, ‘Goodbye.’
At parting I held you close once more,
Your body still as warm as ever.
I know anyone can hurt me,
Because love is a happy bullet.”

The song’s low, plaintive notes were like the final, reluctant words exchanged between lovers. In the air between them hung struggle and helpless resignation.

Many in the audience sat in silence, lost in memories of their own past loves and goodbyes. Who among us hasn’t had a youthful romance, or suffered love’s wounds?

At Han Dong and Qin Lulu’s table, tears streamed down Qin Lulu’s face. Tonight, Han Dong would leave Beijing, leave behind his past, and begin anew. She should be happy for him, should congratulate him. Yet why did her heart ache so much? She thought she was finally free to live as she wished, but fate had played a cruel joke, striking her heart like a bullet.

Han Dong watched as Qin Lulu buried her face on the table. All he could do was hand her tissues, utterly at a loss for words of comfort.

“Love is a happy bullet,
Without love, there’s no pain.
Love is an endless hope,
Without love, there’s no pain.”

Lin Qihua’s raw, anguished voice pierced the night, echoing through the bar. Each word was a bullet, striking deep into the heart. Who in Beijing hasn’t loved and lost, hasn’t been wounded by love? Tears welled in many a girl’s eyes, and even some men found their vision blurring.

“I help you gently open the door,
Outside the sky slowly dims.
Don’t apologize to me now,
Because without love, there’s no pain.”

Don’t apologize. Loving you was my good fortune, my happiness. Even if it brought me pain, I accept it willingly—for without love, there could be no pain.

“Love is a happy bullet,
Without love, there’s no pain.
Love is an endless hope,
Without love, there’s no pain.
Love is a happy bullet,
Without love, there’s no pain.
Love is an endless hope,
Without love, there’s no pain.”

His voice rose, raw and powerful, a reminder that love and pain are inseparable. To love is to be struck by this happy bullet. For the first time, the guests felt just how searing and soul-rending Lin Qihua’s singing could be, bringing back memories impossible to forget—and perhaps, a hidden thread of sweetness.

“If life could always be as it was at first meeting, why should autumn winds bring sorrow to painted fans?
How easily the heart of an old friend changes, yet people say the heart is fickle.
When the words at Lishan were finished, the night was half gone, and though tears fell like rain, I do not regret.
How can one compare to the faithless man in brocade, when once we wished to be as two birds with joined wings?”

Lin Qihua stopped singing and recited this classic poem by Nalan Xingde, his voice gentle over the microphone. “Whatever the future holds, I only wish happiness for those I once loved. Because we have loved, and been happy, even if only for a moment, a day, a month, a year—that is forever.”

“‘If life could always be as it was at first meeting, why should autumn winds bring sorrow to painted fans…’” Qin Lulu murmured the poem to herself, drying her tears, her heart slowly growing calm.

“This Hua, he’s a real demon,” Han Dong muttered inwardly, gritting his teeth.

Lin Qihua, of course, had no idea what Han Dong was thinking—and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. This song had haunted him for days, and singing it was the only way to release the emotion. As for the story between Han Dong, Qin Lulu, and Sister Lian, Lin Qihua had no wish to interfere, nor did he know how it would end. No matter what became of them, it was a beautiful love story: a man of honor and responsibility, a girl gentle yet strong, and another mysterious, graceful woman. Whatever the outcome, to have loved is to have been happy.

“Now, let me sing another song for my friend who is about to set off on a journey. Please, drain your glass—may you be free from all worries from this day on.”

“Well, that’s thoughtful,” Han Dong said with a shake of his head and a smile.

“Hua’s talent is truly astounding,” Qin Lulu said, her eyes bright and clear. “I’d love to see him on a grand stage one day.”

“It won’t be long—just a year,” Han Dong replied.

On stage, Lin Qihua began strumming his guitar, the mournful melody and his ethereal voice drifting through the room:

“My friend, today you’re leaving,
Down this glass of wine.
Forget the sorrow of wandering far from home,
Drink until the end of the world.
Maybe from now on your drifting
Will have no place to rest,
Let’s raise our glasses together once more,
Cheers, my friend.”

Simple, catchy lyrics, brimming with deep emotion and camaraderie, resonated with the entire audience, who turned to clink glasses with their friends and drank together.

“Cheers, my friend,” Qin Lulu said with a smile, raising her glass to Han Dong. “I don’t know where you’re going or what you’ll do, but as your friend, I wish you good luck and great success.”

“Thank you,” Han Dong replied, clinking glasses and draining his wine. “And you? What are your plans?” Now that Qin Lulu was free and had joined a new company, offers must be flooding in. Times had changed—before, when she challenged the unspoken rules, companies had avoided her. Now, her troubles were behind her, her popularity soaring. She was about to become a top star. For most companies, a top star was a pillar; only a few could boast true superstars. Qin Lulu was on the verge of reaching the summit, and her appeal was undeniable.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Qin Lulu replied, clearly unburdened and more relaxed than ever. “I probably won’t sign with another company—no more restrictions. I’ve saved up a bit these past few years, so maybe I’ll open my own studio, be my own boss, take on some gigs, just enough to support myself.”

“Then I wish you great success as well,” Han Dong smiled, raising his glass again.

A new understanding was growing between them. Perhaps, when the day came for them to meet again, they would finally understand where they stood with each other.

Night deepened. In the air, Lin Qihua’s song continued to drift:

“My friend, today you’re leaving,
Down this glass of wine.
The sky is blue and free,
You long to possess it.
May those carefree days
No longer be just a dream.
Let’s raise our glasses once again,
Cheers, my friend.

My friend, today you’re leaving,
Down this glass of wine.
The green fields stretch without end,
Like the gaze of a child.
You still have wandering ahead of you,
Just to be true to yourself.
Suddenly, you can’t hold back your tears,
Cheers, my friend.

Cheers, my friend.
Cheers, my friend.”