Zoe Young naturally couldn’t understand, but many years later, when she thought back, she suddenly understood Grandpa Green—in the cartoon, at the last moment, Xiaoyou still gave up the chance to become Sweetie forever and turned back into the simple, happy little girl she used to be. And Grandpa Green let her become the Sweetie of her dreams, but stopped her from taking the path of Xiaoyanzi. So, she still had the chance to become a happy Xiaoyou again and grow up peacefully.

But the young Zoe Young at the time just lowered her head and thought for a moment, then looked up at the old man with clear, bright eyes and said, “I don’t really understand, but Grandpa Green definitely wouldn’t let me go the wrong way.”

Grandpa Green burst out laughing: “How come I never knew you had such a sweet mouth?” Zoe Young corrected him with a serious face: “I mean it.” Grandpa Green beamed, looking at the audience seats, lost in thought. The short Zoe Young looked up at him, then glanced at the vast, pitch-black audience seats below, suddenly feeling a bit lonely. It was a kind of loneliness that belonged to Grandpa Green. She could only feel it when she stood by his side. This feeling only resurfaced again when she graduated from elementary school. The gray teaching building standing there, its mouth wide open, swallowing class after class of students, watching them walk into the school gate with the same innocent, naive expressions, and then watching them walk out, shaped in all sorts of ways, with countless different expressions. It was like a monster that devoured the years of youth.

But no one knew just how lonely and sad this monster was, standing alone in the middle of the river of time, watching generation after generation swept away, powerless to help.

“Zoe, do you want to learn an instrument?” “An instrument?”

“Learning music is good for your temperament. And you don’t have to take this path, just learn for fun, okay?” “But it’s expensive.” Zoe Young replied concisely, her expression sincere. Grandpa Green patted her head: “It’s fine, I’ll teach you. With a mouth as sweet as yours, I won’t charge you tuition.” Zoe Young almost immediately paid her “tuition”: “Grandpa Green, I think you’re really a good person.” “And?” Grandpa Green raised his eyebrows, smiling at the little one in front of him. “And…” Zoe Young searched her mind for the last few good words she knew, and finally could only say dryly, “And you have great taste.” Grandpa Green gave her a hard knock on the head: “Who exactly are you complimenting?!”

Four years ago, Zoe Young first touched the beautiful, glossy body of a cello. Grandpa Green told her that someone once said the sound of the cello was like a strong and kind person humming with their mouth closed.

Zoe Young liked this saying, and she smiled and asked, “Who said that?” “Gorky.”

Zoe Young was surprised—so Gorky didn’t just say “books are the ladder of human progress.”

“Zoe, what are you thinking about?” Zoe Young snapped out of her reverie and saw Mr. Green standing beside her, warming his hands over the radiator. “I… I was remembering when you told me the cello sounds like… haha, that thing Gorky said.”

“Mm, I remember.” The increasingly forgetful Mr. Green actually still remembered. They fell silent, the bright white lamp overhead like a giant button—press it, and time would stand still. “Zoe, you’re almost in sixth grade, right?”

“Uh, half a year to go.” “Take the level nine exam next summer?” “Yes, Mr. Sherman said to start preparing now.”

Two years ago, Mr. Green had already handed over his last student, Zoe Young, to a well-known Mr. Sherman at the youth center. Zoe Young’s tuition was still much cheaper than others’, and since Mr. Sherman was Mr. Green’s student, he still took great care with Zoe Young.

“Do you want to apply to the affiliated middle school of the Shanghai Conservatory of Music?” “What?” Zoe Young looked up. “Do you want to keep going down this path?”

She had once said that Mr. Green would never lead her astray, but when she heard this, Zoe Young still didn’t know how to respond.

“No.” She blurted it out, without any reason. Mr. Green wasn’t surprised; he smiled slightly, looking at the thick frost on the window. “You’re really like Alan Carter,” he said. “But still, think about it.” Mr. Green put his hands behind his back and slowly walked across the rehearsal room back to his office. Zoe Young quietly watched the old man’s stooped figure, and suddenly a wave of panic, for no reason, flooded her heart, as if fate was whispering to her, but she couldn’t understand. 197? In this world, those who are good to you are good people, those who aren’t are bad people.

? There’s another kind of role in the world called cannon fodder. They’re mediocre, they work extremely hard, and they’re always used to inspire and motivate the main character, to create and resolve misunderstandings, and in the end, they even have to take a bullet for the protagonist—only the lucky ones get to die in the protagonist’s arms and receive two tears.

? Death is a dagger, but the ones who bleed and are wounded are the living.

? When you’re sad, eat something, because the stomach and the heart are close together. When you’re full, the warm stomach will take up the space of the heart, so your heart won’t feel so cold and empty.

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The Fourth Beauty: The Name You Can’t Return To Is Called Childhood

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1. The Way Home

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After the orchestra’s rehearsal ended, Zoe Young didn’t rush to return the instrument. Today she had brought her own cello to rehearsal and hadn’t used the orchestra’s shared instruments.

In fifteen minutes, she still had to attend the rehearsal for the New Year’s performance. Zoe Young was part of Alan Carter’s quartet. After the crowd dispersed, she carefully carried her cello and backpack to another medium-sized rehearsal room. Alan Carter and the other two members were chatting together. Alan Carter was in his second year of high school, the other two were in their third year of middle school, and only Zoe Young was still a little kid. “Senior, is it okay if my dad calls your house in the next couple of days? Sigh, they’re driving me crazy. They really want me to get into Zhenhua, but I didn’t even make the top 500 in the recent city-wide exam. My dad nearly skinned me alive. I haven’t wanted to be in the orchestra for a long time, but they’re forcing me to rehearse just for those five extra points on the high school entrance exam. My dad wants to ask you about the current senior teachers at Zhenhua. Next year, when I enroll, a lot of the senior teachers will be moving down to teach first-year classes, and he wants to know in advance.” The round-faced viola player spoke while twisting the adjuster at the end of his bow.

The short-haired girl next to him, who was cleaning her instrument, burst out laughing: “Your dad is really thinking ahead. You’re not even sure you can get into Zhenhua, and he’s already worrying about class assignments. That’s some long-term planning.”

The round-faced boy was a bit annoyed: “What’s wrong with that? Worst case, we’ll just pay for a spot. It’s only a few tens of thousands.” “Only a few tens of thousands? Sure, your family’s rich, really rich.” The short-haired girl curled her lip and turned away. Alan Carter had been standing by, quietly watching them bicker, smiling. When he saw Zoe Young standing by the door with her cello, he finally interrupted: “Let’s start rehearsal, Zoe’s here. Let’s finish early, or she’ll miss her six o’clock cartoon.”

The other two burst out laughing, and the round-faced boy started howling: “Youth, this is what youth is…” Zoe Young blushed and glared fiercely at Alan Carter. He just shrugged and grinned at her without a hint of guilt. The rehearsal went smoothly, though Alan Carter interrupted a few times to fix some harmonies that weren’t quite right. By 5:15, he announced rehearsal was over. The other two had to rush off to a cram school near the agricultural university, so Alan Carter helped Zoe Young carry her cello and walked her home. “You really don’t have to,” Zoe Young said, embarrassed.

“It’s cold and the roads are slippery. It’s not safe for you to carry such a big instrument and squeeze onto the bus alone.” As Alan Carter spoke, his breath turned white and quickly disappeared. Zoe Young looked up at his gentle eyes behind the mist and felt a warmth in her heart.

“Thank you.” Alan Carter still liked to ruffle Zoe Young’s hair from above. Even though she was wearing a little knit hat, he would tug at the dangling pompom on top. “No need to thank me.”

In the northern winter, night fell quickly. As the city lights came on, Zoe Young carefully watched her step. She was wearing flat snow boots today, so the ground felt especially slippery.

Suddenly, she felt her right hand tighten—it was Alan Carter holding her hand, his dark gray glove wrapping tightly around her light gray one. She smiled, “Thanks, this part of the road is really slippery.”

“That’s why it’s dangerous for you to walk alone with your cello.” They crossed the square in front of the youth center and reached the main gate, where Alan Carter raised his hand and hailed a taxi.