If someone asks Shen Qingyao, what is youth?
He would answer: It's the back of his neck that was so hot from the sun during Monday's flag-raising ceremony, it's the chalk dust on the cuffs of the gay purple school uniform, it's the note that was secretly passed around in physics class and filled with the Lorentz force formula: "Vertical paper facing outward—it's moving away from you."
It was the long journey on the study bus to Shaanxi, and half of the headphones were given to the silent new deskmate beside me.
It was late at night when the two of them were writing self-reflections side by side after he hit someone. The bruises on their knuckles touched the pen barrel of the pen.
It was when I discovered that the transfer student who always watched "Long Talk" could actually compose amazing chords for the simple melody he wrote.
Youth is an island. It was the boy who was supposed to speak Cockney English in the Foreign Languages High School, who suddenly parachuted into the seat on his left, with the refreshing coolness of late summer, and said, "Shen Qingyao, lend me your textbook."
On the night of the school anniversary, when everyone held their breath, Jiang Yu, who had composed countless chords for him, walked onto the stage, took the microphone under the spotlight, and completed the long-overdue "Echo" with him.
——It turns out that the most turbulent youth is when two lonely frequencies finally resonate into a complete sea.
Concept: Two teenagers use music to redeem each other and play a sonorous melody together against the noise of the world.
