wavenovel Chapter 373 "The Prodigal Son"
Chapter 373 "The Prodigal Son"
When the words "songwriting" popped into Lu Ran's mind, even he felt it was a bit outrageous.
What good will writing a song do for someone else's child's education?
It's not like he'll turn back into a good student just by singing a song.
But then he thought again, and realized that some songs do indeed have that power.
There was a song in my past life called "The Prodigal Son Returns," in the Minnan dialect, which tells the story of a young man who had a change of heart after being involved in crime.
He had watched the music video for that song several times, and every time he saw the last scene—the male protagonist kneeling on the ground crying and calling out "Mom"—he felt a lump in his throat.
It's not that the song itself is so amazing, but that the emotion of "I was wrong, I want to go home" is so real.
Which prodigal son doesn't harbor this thought in his heart?
I just can't bring myself to say it.
Lu Ran picked up the bowl and took a sip of soup, the melody of that song starting to play in his mind.
The intro is a clean, simple guitar arpeggio, like someone quietly reminiscing.
The verses have a very steady rhythm, like telling a story slowly.
The chorus suddenly explodes, all the emotions surge out, like words that have been held back for a long time finally being spoken.
He vaguely remembered the lyrics; it was a Hokkien version, which, when translated into Mandarin, roughly meant, "Over the years, I've traveled to many places, met many people, and made many mistakes. Now I want to come back, but I don't know if it's too late."
Writing this song wasn't difficult; the challenge was figuring out how to use it.
No matter how good a song is, you can't expect Chen Xiaoming to kneel down and cry, "Mom, I was wrong," after listening to it once.
The power of music is subtle and gradual, not immediate.
It needs the right time, the right place, and the right way to deliver that song to him.
If the opportunity doesn't arise, then forget it.
Forced fruit is never sweet, and songs forced upon you will never be listened to.
But the song can be written first and left as is.
What if there's a chance?
...
After dinner, Shen Yuege helped Aunt Chen clear the dishes, and Lu Ran said he was going out for some fresh air and went to the yard alone.
The pomelo tree in the yard swayed gently in the evening breeze, with a few bright yellow pomelos hanging from the branches, shining in the moonlight like little lanterns.
He found a rock to sit on, took out his phone, opened the notes app, and began to write down the lyrics and sheet music of the song from memory.
The memories from his past life were too vivid; he had listened to this song no less than a hundred times, and every note and every word was etched into his mind.
In less than twenty minutes, the lyrics and musical score were almost finished.
He glanced at it, confirmed there were no problems, saved a document, and titled it with only three words: "The Prodigal Son Returns".
After he finished writing, he stared at the screen for a while, thinking about something.
This song is in the Hokkien language.
Minnan dialect is widely spoken in Fujian Province, Taiwan, and eastern Guangdong. Chen Xiaoming is a native of Fujian Province, so he can definitely understand it.
Even if he doesn't understand it very well, music itself has the power to transcend language.
When the melody is good and the emotion is right, language is not a barrier.
He put his phone away, stood up, and walked a few steps in the yard.
Shen Yuege came out of the house with a cup of hot tea in her hand and handed it to him: "It's cold outside, don't stay too long."
Lu Ran took the teacup and took a sip. It was rock tea made by Aunt Chen herself, and it tasted much better than the bag she bought in Xiamei Village that afternoon.
"Where's Aunt Chen?" he asked.
"She went upstairs. She said she was going to talk to Chen Xiaoming, but I told her not to go, as it would only make things worse. She listened and went back to her room."
Lu Ran nodded without saying anything.
Shen Yuege looked at him: "What were you doing outside just now? You didn't come in for so long."
"Write something."
"Write what?"
"A song."
Shen Yuege was taken aback: "You're writing songs again? Who are you writing songs for?"
Give it to someone who might need it.
Shen Yuege glanced at him but didn't ask any further questions.
She had gotten used to Lu Ran's "suddenly popping up something" rhythm.
...
The next morning, when Lu Ran and Shen Yuege went downstairs for breakfast, Aunt Chen was already busy in the kitchen.
White porridge was cooking in a pot on the stove, steamed buns were being steamed in a steamer, and salted vegetables were being stir-fried in a wok next to it, making a sizzling sound.
"You're up? Sit down, almost done." Aunt Chen's voice came from the kitchen. She sounded much more energetic than last night, but Lu Ran could tell that she was just putting on a brave face.
The two sat down, and Aunt Chen brought over porridge and steamed buns. The pickled vegetables were also ready, and she also cut up a plate of her own pickled dried radish, which was crisp and looked very appetizing.
Shen Yuege served Lu Ran a bowl of porridge and then served herself a bowl as well.
After taking a few bites, Lu Ran spoke up.
"Aunt Chen, is your son home today?"
Aunt Chen paused for a moment while wiping the stove: "He's here. He hasn't gotten up yet. He sleeps until noon every day. Don't worry about him, just eat."
"I don't mean to interfere with him." Lu Ran took a bite of his steamed bun. "I just want to ask, when he was doing well in school, did he have any particular hobbies besides studying?"
Aunt Chen thought for a moment: "He likes to play chess. Chinese chess, he learned it from his father. He doesn't play much after his father passed away."
"Is there anything else?"
"I loved reading martial arts novels. I bought a whole cabinet full of Jin Yong and Gu Long books, and I read each one several times. But then I don't know when I stopped reading them, and those books are now covered in a layer of dust."
"Is there anything else?"
Aunt Chen thought for a moment, put down the rag, and sat down across from the dining table, as if she was seriously recalling something.
"Back in junior high, he was really into music for a while. He kept pestering me to buy him a guitar, not an expensive one, just a few hundred yuan. He would carry that guitar around his room and play it terribly, but he enjoyed it. After he went to high school, I never saw him touch that guitar again."
Lu Ran paused, holding the steamed bun in his hand. "Guitar? He learned it himself?"
"Yes. No one taught him; he learned by watching videos online. After a few months, he could play pieces and even write his own songs. Although he hasn't been writing songs for very long, he's quite happy when he's writing them."
"Is that guitar still there?"
"Yes. It's in his room, in the corner, covered in a layer of dust."
Lu Ran nodded and took a sip of porridge.
Shen Yuege glanced at him from the side, her eyes saying, "What do you want to do?"
Lu Ran shook his head slightly, meaning "Don't ask yet."
Aunt Chen stood up, wiped her hands, and said, "You guys take your time eating. I'll go see if he's gotten up yet."
She went upstairs, her footsteps echoing loudly on the stairs.
Shen Yuege leaned closer and whispered, "You're not planning to do something with that guitar, are you?"
"I was just asking."
"You can't fool me. Every time you make that face, you're up to something."
"What expression should I make?"
"It's that kind of expression where the corners of your mouth are slightly upturned, your eyes are a little squinted, and you look like you're not thinking about anything but you're already writing a strategy guide in your head."
Lu Ran touched his face: "Do I have this on my face?"
"Yes. And every time you make that face, you end up doing something unexpected."
Lu Ran didn't reply, because he was indeed having designs on it.
If you love music, then that's a good fit for your major.
...
A dozen minutes later, Aunt Chen came downstairs, looking rather unhappy.
"I can't wake him up. I called him for five minutes, and he turned over and went back to sleep."
Lu Ran smiled and said, "No rush. Let's talk about it after he wakes up."
Aunt Chen sat down, picked up a bowl of porridge, took a sip, put it down, and sighed.
"This child wasn't like this when he was little. When he was in elementary school, he would get up at six o'clock every morning, pack his own schoolbag, and walk to school by himself, without me ever having to call him. After school, he would do his homework first, and only go out to play after finishing his homework. He would never put off the homework assigned by the teacher until the next day."
She took another sip of porridge, picked up a piece of dried radish with her chopsticks, but didn't eat it and put it down again.
"When he was in junior high school, he would go to the county library every weekend to read, and he would stay there all day. I gave him ten yuan for pocket money. He would use five yuan for bus fare and five yuan to buy bread for lunch. He never spent money recklessly. Once, I secretly followed him to the library and found that he was really reading books there, not going to an internet cafe or playing video games. I thought to myself at the time that this kid would definitely be successful in the future."
Her eyes reddened again.
"And now? He gives him ten yuan, then immediately buys cigarettes. He's probably forgotten where the library is."
Shen Yuege reached out and took her hand.
Lu Ran didn't speak, quietly eating her steamed bun, her mind preoccupied with something.
Something must have happened to turn a child who was once academically excellent, self-disciplined, and ambitious into what he is now.
It couldn't have changed suddenly; it must have been at some point, for some reason, that it collapsed one after another, like toppling dominoes.
Finding the reason might change things.
But what if you can't find it?
That song is just a song.
...
Around 10 a.m., Lu Ran and Shen Yuege were looking at the pomelo trees in the yard when they heard the sound of a door opening upstairs, followed by the clattering of slippers on the stairs.
Chen Xiaoming came down.
He was dressed the same as yesterday: blond, afro, floral jacket, silver chain, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Seeing Lu Ran and Shen Yuege in the yard, he didn't greet them. He went straight to the water tap in the corner of the yard, turned on the tap, bent down and splashed cold water on his face.
His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, turning his afro into a drenched mess.
He took out a pack of tissues from his pocket, pulled out one to wipe his face, and casually threw the used tissue on the ground.
Then he saw Lu Ran looking at him.
"What are you looking at?"
Lu Ran wasn't angry. She smiled and said, "Your hair is quite unique."
Chen Xiaoming was stunned for a moment, probably not expecting the other party to react this way.
He snorted, didn't reply, and turned to go upstairs.
Shen Yuege whispered from the side, "Why did you provoke him?"
"I didn't provoke him. I said his hair was unique, which was a compliment."
"Your tone sounds sarcastic."
"I was being very sincere."
Whether you're sincere or not doesn't matter; as long as he thinks you're being sarcastic, that's enough.
Lu Ran thought about it and agreed with Shen Yuege.
If you talk to a rebellious child like this, and your tone is even slightly off, he will feel like you are targeting him.
We can't force him; we have to find a way that he can accept.
...