The President Is on Top

Hear your frequency In Jiangcheng in late autumn, there is always a damp coolness in the air. When Su Qing pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Old Time Cafe, the copper bell hanging on the door made a dull and crisp sound. There were no customers in the store, and there was only a man sitting by the window, playing with an old-fashioned vinyl record player. "Sorry, we're closed." The man didn't even raise his head, his voice was clear and clear, like raindrops falling on the bluestone in late autumn. Su Qing was stunned for a moment and looked at the watch on her wrist. It read 9:55 pm. There is a sign on the door that says "Open until ten o'clock". She put away the folding umbrella that was still dripping, and walked to the bar a little stubbornly: "Boss, I only order a cup of hot Americano, and then I'll leave." The man finally raised his head. He was wearing a gray knitted cardigan that had been washed white, a simple white T-shirt underneath, and a pair of thin-rimmed silver-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. His eyes were very dark and showed no emotion when he looked at people, like a bottomless ancient well. "The machine is off," he refused curtly, brushing his finger lightly against the tone arm of the record player. "I can wait." Su Qing took out a wet tissue from his bag and slowly wiped his bangs that were wet by the rain. "Besides, your needle seems to be off. If you put it down again, "Kind of Blue" will be useless." The man's movements suddenly stopped. He narrowed his eyes and re-examined the soaked and embarrassed-looking woman in front of him. She was wearing a beige windbreaker, holding a painting tube tightly in her arms, but her eyes were astonishingly bright, revealing a tenacity that refused to admit defeat. He was silent for two seconds, then turned and walked towards the coffee machine: "Hot Americano, no sugar?" "Add a piece of candy, thank you." The corners of Su Qing's mouth raised slightly, revealing a smile of success. The man's name is Jiang Chi. This cafe was left by his grandfather and was his only refuge in this bustling city. He is a person with an almost pathological obsession with sounds. He can hear the subtle noises in the electric current and can distinguish the popping sounds of coffee beans of different years when they are roasted. Su Qing is an illustrator. She recently received a large order to draw sketches of the old city. In order to find inspiration, she has been wandering around the nearby alleys these days. After that night, Su Qing became a frequent visitor to "Old Time". She always showed up at 9:30 in the evening, ordered an Americano with sugar, and sat in the corner drawing until closing time. Jiang Chi talked very little, and Su Qing didn't talk much either. There is a subtle tacit understanding between the two. Jiang Chi would quietly change the background music in the store to her favorite light jazz while she was painting; Su Qing would help him sort out the music scores scattered on the table before leaving. Until that rainy night. Su Qing came very late that day, soaked to the skin and pale. After she placed her order, she did not draw as usual, but lay on the table, her shoulders shaking slightly. Jiang Chi's hand wiping the cup paused. He walked around the bar, walked to her, and handed her a dry towel. "What's wrong?" His voice was still calm, but there was a hint of unnoticeable concern. Su Qing raised her head, her eyes red: "My paintings... Are all destroyed." In order to catch up on the manuscript in the old city, she stayed in the alley for three days. There was a sudden heavy rain today, and she didn't have time to put away her drawing board. The rain mixed with the mud and completely destroyed the lines she had spent countless efforts sketching. "The client will read the manuscript tomorrow, and I..." Su Qing's voice was choked in her throat, and the feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed her like a tide. Jiang Chi looked at her, then suddenly turned around and walked into the inner room. After a while he came out with a violin. "Have you heard the frequency of the sound of rain?" He sat down on the chair opposite Su Qing and set up the bow. Su Qing looked at him blankly. Jiang Chi didn't explain, and the bow fell down. That was not any piece of music Su Qing had ever heard. At first, the sound was low and slow, like the muffled sound of raindrops falling on the eaves; gradually, the rhythm accelerated and became rapid and sharp, which was the sound of heavy rain hitting the asphalt road; then, the melody became passionate and chaotic, like a strong wind blowing fallen leaves and raging on the street. Su Qing listened blankly. In those seemingly messy notes, she actually heard everything she had seen in the alley in the past three days: the mottled walls, the rusty iron doors, the trembling stray cats hiding under the eaves, and the delivery boy running in the rain... Jiang Chi closed his eyes, completely immersed in his own world. His fingers were flying on the strings, and every note hit Su Qing's heart accurately. When the song ended, the store was silent, except for the sound of rain outside the window. Su Qing's tears had dried up at some point. She looked at Jiang Chi with an unprecedented brightness in her eyes: "I seem to... Know how to draw." Jiang Chi put down the piano and raised a slight arc at the corner of his mouth: "Then let's draw." That night, Su Qing didn't leave. She spread out new drawing paper on the long table in the cafe, while Jiang Chi played the piano. She no longer thought about the specific architectural outlines, but followed the sound of Jiang Chi's piano and drew the shape of the sound. The urgent piano sound turned into sharp lines, and the soothing melody turned into soft color blocks. She drew the rhythm of the rain, the shape of the wind, and the most authentic breath of this old city on a rainy night. Early the next morning, the rain stopped. Su Qing looked at the paintings on the table and let out a long sigh of relief. She turned her head and found Jiang Chi asleep leaning on the back of the chair. The morning light shines through the glass window on the side of his face, outlining his straight bridge of nose and slightly trembling eyelashes. Su Qing couldn't help but stretched out her hand to help him straighten his slipped glasses, but stopped when her fingertips were about to touch him. At this moment, Jiang Chi suddenly opened his eyes. Their eyes met, and the air seemed to freeze for a moment. "Did you finish the painting?" His voice was hoarse, as if he had just woken up. "Yeah." Su Qing took back her hand and arranged the drawing paper in a panic, "Thanks to you." Jiang Chi sat up straight and looked at the paintings, with a flash of surprise in his eyes: "You heard it yourself." Su Qing won the grand prize for that project. On the day of the celebration party, she did not go, but bought a bottle of red wine and came to the "old time". The "Kind of Blue" was still playing in the store, and the needle was walking steadily in the black groove. "Congratulations." Jiang Chi looked at her and handed over two goblets. "Thank you." Su Qing took the wine glass and touched it lightly with him. "Actually, I have always wanted to ask you a question." "What?" "What was the name of the piece you played that night?" Jiang Chi shook the wine glass, and the dark red liquid left traces on the wall of the glass. He looked at Su Qing, his eyes deep and gentle: "There is no name. It was an improvisation, and it was your frequency that I heard that night." Su Qing's heart skipped a beat. "Su Qing," Jiang Chi put down the wine glass and suddenly called her name, "I am a very boring person. My world only has sounds and no colors. But that day, I heard colors in your paintings." He stood up, walked to the record player, and changed a record. This time, what flows out is a tender love song. "I want to invite you to participate in every improvisation of my life." Jiang Chi looked at Su Qing and stretched out his hand seriously, "Are you willing?" Su Qing looked at him, her eyes moist again. This time, it was not because of sadness, but because of a long-lost feeling of being understood. She put down her glass, stepped forward, and held his hand. "Boss Jiang," she said with a smile, with a cunning light in her eyes, "then you have to be prepared, my frequency is very noisy." Jiang Chi held her hand instead, pulled her into his arms, and whispered: "It's okay, I can hear you." Outside the window, the neon lights of the city are flashing and the traffic is busy. And in this small world, two lonely souls finally found each other's frequency. Love sometimes does not require a grand vow. It may be just a cup of Americano with sugar, a song without a name, or when you are most helpless, someone is willing to play the song for you that understands your heart. In this noisy world, meeting someone who is willing to stop and listen to your inner voice is the most beautiful love story in itself. Intention: How many