Summer Sounds and the Distance

Every question Lu Qianqian asked was calm yet piercingly sharp.

At this moment, Ji Yichen fell completely silent.

Of course, he had pondered these questions before—he had even written about them in his songs.

But the girl before him spoke with such tranquility that it didn’t feel like she was asking questions at all. It was more like she was stating facts.

Had she… witnessed it firsthand?

"Last year, I spent three months in a refugee camp in eastern Africa," Lu Qianqian said slowly, as if recalling an ordinary memory.

"There was no electricity year-round, let alone internet. The only entertainment for the locals came from an international charity organization that used a diesel generator to screen old outdoor movies once a week in an open space."

"But most of the time, it was just long, silent nights. That kind of silence… it devours hope."

"One night, an elderly man in the camp passed away. His son, a man in his thirties, didn’t cry. He just sat in the darkness, singing their tribe’s ancient folk songs over and over again."

"Honestly, the singing was terrible—hoarse and completely devoid of any musical aesthetic. But the entire camp, hundreds of people, listened in complete silence. Not a single person spoke."

"In that moment, I suddenly understood," Lu Qianqian’s gaze seemed to pierce through the bookstore window, returning to that place in her memory.

"Music isn’t always art. It isn’t always a commodity. Sometimes, it’s the last weapon people have to fight against emptiness and despair."

"It’s as essential to survival as food and water. The only difference is that it sustains the dignity of the soul."

Ji Yichen looked at her, his expression completely transformed.

All traces of arrogance and scrutiny vanished from his demeanor.

This girl carried something he had never seen in any of the privileged heirs of Jingzhou’s elite families.

A compassion born from the vastness of the world, and a clarity forged by walking through hardship.

"I understand everything you’re saying," Ji Yichen’s voice softened unconsciously. "But what does this have to do with Lu Chenyan’s company, or with capital?"

"It has everything to do with it," Lu Qianqian refocused her gaze on his face.

"My 'Horizon' Foundation will provide aid to those in need across the globe. We won’t just bring supplies, medicine, and technology—I want to bring spiritual comfort and strength too."

"I want your music to play in our mobile clinics, in our makeshift schools, in those tents where people wait for rescue."

"I want your voice to tell those forgotten by the world that they haven’t been abandoned—that someone cares about their suffering, that someone is shouting against the injustices they face."

"And 'Summer Sound Records' is the platform that can make this a reality. It has the best recording equipment to ensure the quality of your music. The most professional distribution channels to amplify these voices. And enough capital to support us in doing things that don’t make money—things that might even cost us."

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes burning with intensity.

"Mr. Ji, my third brother doesn’t understand your world. He wants to buy your art. But I think… you might understand mine."

"I’m not here to buy you. I’m here to invite you—to be my comrade-in-arms."

"Together, let’s use music to talk to this goddamn world."

"Comrade-in-arms."

The word struck Ji Yichen’s heart like a bullet.

The bookstore was quiet, save for the creaking of an old fan spinning overhead.

Ji Yichen stared at Lu Qianqian for a long time without speaking.

He felt that the disdain for capital and the anger at the world he had clung to for so long suddenly seemed narrow-minded in front of this girl.

She didn’t dismiss his rage. Instead, she gave it an outlet.

A broader, more constructive one.

"I have one condition," Ji Yichen finally spoke after a long silence, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Name it," a flicker of joy flashed in Lu Qianqian’s eyes.

"I’ll sign with 'Summer Sound Records.'"

"But my first album has to be a joint project with the 'Horizon' Foundation. All royalties go to the foundation. And you have to be involved in every part of the creative process. I want your eyes. Your stories."

Lu Qianqian smiled.

It was a smile as bright and warm as the sun after rain, brimming with hope and strength.

She stood and extended her hand to Ji Yichen.

"Deal."

Ji Yichen rose as well and clasped her hand.

......

When Lu Chenyan received the call, he had been pacing restlessly in his office.

The moment he heard that Ji Yichen had agreed to sign—and had specifically requested to work with Lu Qianqian—he froze in shock.

After hanging up, he stood motionless in his office for a long, long time.

Then he grabbed his coat and, for the first time, walked toward Lu Qianqian’s office of his own accord.

......

"Qianqian."

Lu Qianqian, who had been reviewing foundation documents, looked up. "Third Brother? Did it work?"

"Yeah," Lu Chenyan nodded.

He stepped closer, studying his younger sister—the one he had always assumed needed his protection.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"We’re family," Lu Qianqian replied with a casual smile.

"No." Lu Chenyan shook his head, his expression more serious than ever before. "From today onward, we’re comrades-in-arms too."

Lu Qianqian paused, momentarily taken aback. Then, meeting his gaze with equal gravity, she softly replied,

"Yes. We’re comrades-in-arms."

......

That night, Ji Yichen returned home.

He lived in an old three-bedroom faculty apartment provided by Jingzhou University, its walls lined with books and a scholarly air.

A few of Wang Lan’s early paintings hung on the walls. There was no television in the living room—just floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a simple, elegant fabric sofa.

A gentle, refined woman with gold-rimmed glasses sat under the lamplight, flipping through an art book.

She was Ji Yichen’s mother, Wang Lan, a professor at Jingzhou University’s College of Fine Arts.

"You’re back, Chenchen. Have you eaten?" Wang Lan looked up with a warm smile.

"Yeah, Mom, I have," Ji Yichen changed out of his shoes and draped his coat over the entryway rack.

"Did you meet a friend today?" Wang Lan handed him a glass of water.

"Mm. Discussed some work," Ji Yichen took the glass and sat on the sofa. "Mom, I’ve decided to sign with a company."

Wang Lan looked surprised, then amused. "Oh? Which company managed to win over our great artist?"

"Summer Sound Records," Ji Yichen smiled—a rare expression free of sarcasm or cynicism. "The boss’s younger sister is… a very interesting person."

Wang Lan noticed the genuine, almost admiring smile on her son’s face and felt a flicker of curiosity. "The boss’s… younger sister?"

"Yeah."

Before Wang Lan could probe further, Ji Yichen stood and retreated to his room.

"Mom, I'm a bit tired. I'm going to rest early."

Wang Lan watched as he closed his bedroom door and shook her head helplessly.

Yet, there was a trace of relief and curiosity in her eyes.

She picked up her phone, hesitated for a moment, then dialed a familiar number.

The call connected quickly.

"Mengling, it's me."

"Lan, it's so late—is everything alright?" Lou Mengling's gentle voice came through the phone.

They had been college classmates, and decades of friendship had long made them as close as family.

"Nothing urgent. Just wanted to vent a little to a fellow mom." Wang Lan leaned back on the sofa, rubbing her temples.

"Our Yichen is still that same cynical boy. All he does is write those songs of his and run off to those remote villages for 'inspiration.' I’m afraid he’ll end up alone for the rest of his life."

Years ago, after discovering her philandering husband’s infidelity, she had resolutely filed for divorce, leaving with nothing but her son.

Ji Yichen’s aloof and rebellious nature, his deep resentment toward injustice—it all likely stemmed from the scars of his broken family.

"You remember last time when I tried to set him up with your Qianqian? He just flat-out said he was busy," Wang Lan sighed.

"A girl as outstanding as your Qianqian probably wouldn’t even glance at a prickly hedgehog like my son."

Lou Mengling chuckled on the other end.

"Lan, don’t worry so much. Kids these days have their own minds. Just the other day, my Qianqian told me, 'Men only slow me down.'"

"Listen to that! Can you believe it?" Wang Lan was torn between amusement and exasperation.

"You can’t force fate. Let them figure it out on their own," Lou Mengling reassured her.

And so, the two mothers spent the call fretting over their children’s "unconventional" ways.