It’s Not Like I Like Him

Down-on-her-luck singer vs. owner of a laid-back bar

The bravest decision Zhu Mo ever made was going to the United States to study after her college entrance exams.

Everyone wished her a smooth journey, except Shen Chi, whose eyes were as cold as frost.

“Hope you never come back,” he said.

Yet on the day Zhu Mo left, a boy sat beneath a tree wrapped in red ribbons, gazing at the sky with reddened eyes all night.

Later, after Zhu Mo went through the highs and lows of life in the United States, she returned to China and, by a twist of fate, became a resident singer at Shen Chi’s bar.

Whenever she was in the middle of a song, a tall, long-legged man would suddenly speak up behind her, his hands in his pockets.

“You sing so badly even a dog sounds better.”

Zhu Mo was so angry she wanted to finish him off on the spot.

Later, Zhu Mo won the singing competition in a landslide.

A foreign reporter asked her, “What do you want to do now?”

Zhu Mo looked toward Shen Chi, who stood at the back of the crowd below, half his body in shadow, and answered, “I want to kiss him.”

Then she stepped off the stage and walked toward him.

Beneath the flashing cameras, they kissed passionately, savoring every moment.

When spring kisses the wasteland, the poet is drunk on dawn.

As a failure, I met my final masterpiece.

Song Youci