Come Here.

A good friend told me that someone had reported me to him, saying that I sang “diu diu diu” every single day.

The truth was, I simply liked the melodies but could never remember the lyrics. Since the lyrics were all in foreign languages I could not understand, I translated them all into “diu diu diu.”

One day, I turned around in my seat, and the person sitting behind me sang The Crematorium Song to me.

“Fifty years from now, we’ll meet again, sent to the crematorium, all burned into ash~ One pile for you, one pile for me~”

I put on a very confused expression and began firing “diu diu diu” back at her.

Outside the window, flying birds swept across the curtain, and the sky suddenly darkened. Fireflies rushed into the heavens all at once, shifting into different constellations in the sky. I secretly took out my earphones, pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, and started listening to music again. The song was called Running till the end.

Without realizing it, I began swaying along with the song, my head bobbing rhythmically. Then the chorus arrived, and the song began to sing:

“Oi de de, oi de de…”

The next day, I laughed and told my friend that from now on, I would no longer sing “diu diu diu.” I would switch to “Oi de de, Oi de de.”

At the time, we were walking down the stairs when someone suddenly passed by us and let out a bizarre, thunderous scream. I was afraid that in the next second, he would launch himself into the air and explode into a fluffy ball of feathers. Then, when we reached the main teaching hall, a girl suddenly held up a microphone and started singing at us.

I said to my friend, “Yali High School has finally gone insane.”

It felt as if every day, all kinds of sounds were circling around me.

In Chinese class, the teacher quoted: “In the carriage, there were the sounds of bells and bridles; in walking, the sound of jade pendants; in leisure, the music of Ya and Song.” The ancients were truly elegant. But surely they would envy us for being able to wear earphones at any time of day. The next time I got caught wearing earphones during evening self-study, I would definitely use this to argue with the grade director.

At that moment, a bird sitting diagonally in front of me suddenly turned its head and began singing Jay Chou. Its expression grew increasingly intoxicated, and soon it drifted away into its own charming voice. Someone ran in through the doorway and let out a clear, bell-like laugh. I rubbed my aching eyes and looked out the window through my blurred vision.

At the far edge of the evening sky, a trace of pale purple had fallen. Yet a light rain was falling from the sky, and in an instant it shattered into a thousand colors. My gaze galloped through the rain, and the melody from earlier began echoing in my mind again.

“Oi de de, oi de de…”

My good friend appeared from who knew where and asked, “So actually what does ‘oi de de’ mean?”

I began looking up the lyrics.

So it meant “come here.”

We both smiled.

My friend suddenly wanted to record the song on his phone, so I pulled out my foolish old-person phone, and the two of us huddled together, fumbling around with it. Some classmates also came over to watch. For example, I noticed a dark shadow leaning in. When I turned around, I found our homeroom teacher smiling at me.

I was so frightened that I nearly revealed my true form, but I quickly calmed down.

“Mr. Deng! You scared me.”

My friend’s big eyes blinked with bubbles of panic, while our homeroom teacher continued smiling. The evening wind bumped dizzily against the window, and the curtains fluttered.

“I thought you were discussing a problem. Turns out you were doing this.”

After saying that, he smiled again and walked away.

I relaxed. I had no idea what he was doing, but he seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

Suddenly, a bird flapped into the classroom, landed on my shoulder, and called me to go to the bathroom.

We walked out the door, but stopped by the railing in the corridor. Together, we looked at the sky outside. The light rain was still falling. Faraway buildings hid behind the curtain of the sky, so distant, so unreal. And yet they held up their lights, curiously poking their heads out toward us. The light diffused through the pitch-black night, as if it were the only real thing in existence.

I reached out and caught a few crisp raindrops. My small hand seemed tiny as a speck in the vast universe.

That melody began echoing in my mind again.

“Oi de de… come here… come here!”

Go where?

Where was I supposed to go?

I froze. Only the raindrops continued falling onto my hand.

The little bird suddenly chirped with joy. It hopped once, then dove into the dark night!

I cried out in surprise and looked down, only to find that the bird had begun to fly. In the night and rain, it steadied its wings and rushed toward the distant lights!

My cry instantly turned into delight. I braced myself against the railing, trying hard to follow the bird’s figure with my eyes. But the rain soon hid its body from sight.

My friend also ran over and kept asking me what had happened, what had happened. But I could not say a word. My hand, still suspended in the rain, only pointed steadily forward.

He looked at my empty shoulder and suddenly understood.

My eyes grew wet.

I looked at him, and he, too, fell silent.

The tall buildings stood quietly in the distant night, but I knew they were there.

The greatest sound is silence.

“Flying bird, little rain, tell me — who is calling me? And where am I going?”

I murmured this softly, as if praying.