Sunny Day

On the last day of summer vacation, the cicadas seemed to sing softer than usual, as if to mark the end of this long summer.

Hana took the tram from Bunkyo Ward, and after a bumpy for almost forty minutes, she finally got off at the Katsushika Ward station.

As she stepped out of the turnstile, she was still clutching a hand-drawn map in her hand.

The route from the station to the drink shop was drawn with colored markers, and next to it it said, "Next to Xia Mo and Asuka School! Easy to find!" The handwriting was crooked, but you could tell that it was drawn with great care.

Xia Mo was already waiting for her at the beverage shop. It was the same one that Fei Niao had taken him to last time.

He had secured a high stool by the window, with a cup of chilled bubble tea in front of him, the straw already inserted.

When Hua Hua pushed the door open and came in, she immediately saw the cup of milk tea.

"Thirty seconds late!" Hua Hua raised her wrist—even though she wasn't wearing anything.

"You're always late! And why are you drinking milk tea again! Didn't Asuka-chan get angry with you last time?"

"Does arriving first count as being late?"

Xia Mo glanced at her, chewed on the tapioca pearls in her mouth, and said calmly, "Last time was last time. Bubble tea is indeed delicious."

Hua Hua sat down opposite him and pouted, "Be careful, if Asuka-chan finds out you're drinking milk tea again, she'll get angry with you again."

"She's not scary when she's angry; you can coax her to calm her down." After saying this, Xia Mo lowered her head and took another breath.

Hua Hua snorted, picked up the menu board, glanced at it, and said to the clerk, "A Coke with ice!" Then she took out the hand-drawn map from her bag and spread it out on the table.

"Let's go to this one first," Hua Hua said, pointing to a location marked with a large star in the center of the map.

"A new shopping mall opened in Katsushika Ward, it has a whole floor dedicated to general merchandise and stationery! I found it online, it's about a 15-minute walk from here. Asuka-chan said last time she wanted a strawberry hair clip, you know... the kind with little strawberries on it, right?"

Xia Mo thought about it and realized that he did seem to have heard Fei Biao mention it once after lunch. She said it casually, as if she were talking to herself, but he remembered it.

But even if he remembered it, it was useless—it always felt a bit strange for a boy like him to go and buy hair clips.

"You pick out the hair clips, I'll go look somewhere else," Xia Mo said.

Hua Hua looked up at him, a sly glint in her eyes: "Oh—you're going to buy it alone? Is there some secret gift you don't want me to know?"

"It's not a secret, it's just... it wasn't appropriate for me to be there when you were picking out hair clips," Xia Mo said.

Hua Hua didn't ask any more questions. She smiled and took a big gulp of the Coke that had just been delivered.

After finishing their drinks, the two left the beverage shop and walked along the street for about fifteen minutes until they arrived at the shopping center marked on the map.

That was a shopping mall that opened this summer. The exterior was bright white, and the glass curtain wall shimmered in the sunlight. Although the opening days had passed, it was still very popular.

Hua Hua pulled Xia Mo straight to the third floor.

Half of the third floor is a stationery and general merchandise area, with shops side by side. The shop windows are filled with sparkly stickers, colorful pens, notepads of various shapes, and all sorts of cute little ornaments.

The air was filled with the smell of paper and glue, and a faint strawberry scent—it was coming from the entrance of that hair accessory shop.

The hair accessory shop has a pink signboard, and the window displays various hair ties, hair clips, and headbands, lined up like a rainbow on the shelf.

As soon as Hua Hua entered, she went straight to the strawberry hair clip area. Xia Mo hesitated at the door for a moment and did not follow her in.

"I'll browse around the shops next door and come find you in a bit," he said.

Hua Hua didn't even look up, waved at him, and picked up a strawberry hair clip to try it on in the mirror.

Xia Mo turned and walked into the stationery store next door.

This store is much larger than the hair accessory store, with rows of shelves extending inside, and the walls covered with all kinds of notebooks, sticky notes, and folders.

The warm yellow light shining on the paper made each item look warm and textured.

As summer drew to a close, she slowly walked past rows of shelves, her gaze wandering among the various items, her mind constantly pondering one question—

What do birds like?

She seemed to have everything she needed. She brought her own lunchbox, her notebook was provided by the school, and her pens and erasers were all plain white, unlike the other girls in her class who used brightly colored stationery.

She never asks for anything on her own initiative, and she even seems embarrassed about wanting things.

Xia Mo stopped in front of a row of pencil racks, picked up a mechanical pencil with a cat pattern printed on it, looked at it, and then put it down.

Too ordinary.

He continued walking, past notepads, folders, and stickers, past a display case filled with various animal erasers, and past a row of exquisite little mirrors.

Then he stopped in front of a shelf.

There were some unusual items on the shelves—

"A letter that can speak".

It was a stack of postcard-sized cards, a bit thicker than regular postcards, but still very light in my hand.

The packaging features beautifully illustrated instructions: one person presses a button on the card and speaks into a small hole, while another person presses a different button to hear the recorded audio.

Xia Mo picked it up and examined it closely. The back of the packaging stated: It has a built-in ultra-thin speaker, microphone, and battery, and is only 0.75 mm thick. It can record up to 20 seconds of sound and can be played back approximately 50 times.

It began selling in the fall of 2005 at Tokyu Hands in Japan, costing 3,260 yen per piece.

Three thousand two hundred and sixty yen. He rummaged through his wallet in his pocket; it contained the allowance his mother had given him and the money he had earned from doing chores last time—enough in total.

And the best thing about this card is that it can be sent out in a standard envelope.

An 80-yen stamp can send it anywhere in Japan.

Xia Mo's gaze lingered on the card for a long time.

He suddenly had an idea.

A few months ago, he was sitting in the music room lost in thought when it was raining outside the window.

Raindrops pattered on the loquat leaves, like a nameless melody.

He casually pressed a few notes on the piano and then wrote down a melody.

He later expanded that melody and wrote it into a complete piece.

There are no words. Only the melody.

He named the piece "Sunny Day".

It's not because the music sounds sunny. On the contrary, it begins in a low, slow tone, like someone walking in the rain looking down at the puddles at their feet.

Then it climbs up little by little, and when it reaches the chorus, it's like a crack appears in the clouds, and sunlight leaks through the crack.

He played for the birds a few times.

One time, right after he finished writing it, in the music classroom, Asuka sat next to him and, after listening, said, "It sounds very nice."

Another time, at Hua Hua's house, he played a piece, and Fei Niao didn't say anything, just quietly looked at the piano keys.

He didn't know if the bird had memorized the melody.

But he wanted her to remember.

Twenty seconds of recording isn't enough to capture the entire piece.

But he can record the best part—

It's that moment that transitions from gloom to brightness, like someone looking up on a rainy day and seeing the clearing sky in the distance.

Xia Mo took the card to the cashier, paid, and carefully put it into a compartment in her backpack.

When he returned to the hair accessory shop, Hua Hua had already picked out a gift and was standing at the door waiting for him.

She was carrying a small paper bag, and you could see what was inside through the semi-transparent bag—

A bright red strawberry hair clip with two small beads hanging from it; and a dark pink hair tie with a fluffy strawberry ball on it.

They are all very cute little things, the kind that a fourth-grade girl would like.

"What did you buy?" Hua Hua craned her neck to look into Xia Mo's schoolbag.

"I'm not telling you." Xia Mo turned to the side and turned her schoolbag behind her.

"Stingy!" Hua Hua pouted, but didn't ask any further questions, and shook the paper bag in her hand.

"Asuka-chan will definitely love it! Look at this hair clip—isn't it cute?"

Xia Mo glanced at it and nodded: "Mm."

The two walked out of the mall, where the bright sunlight made the pavement shine.

Hua Hua walked ahead, her ponytail swinging back and forth, muttering about the expression on Fei Niao's face when she received the gift.

As Xia Mo walked behind, her hand unconsciously touched the side pocket of her backpack—where the thin card lay quietly.

When they parted at the station, Huahua stood at the turnstile and waved to him.

"See you at piano lesson!" she said.

"See you at piano lesson," Xia Mo said.

Hua Hua turned around, swiped her ticket, and walked onto the platform.

She took a couple of steps, then turned back and shouted at him through the glass door, "Don't tell Asuka-chan we picked out a gift for her! Keep it a secret!"

"Didn't you say you wanted to buy a gift when you were at her house?" Xia Mo thought to herself.

He nodded anyway.

--------

When I got home, my mother was in the kitchen making dinner. Hearing the noise from the entryway, she peeked out and asked, "You're back? Did you finish shopping?"

"Hmm." Xia Mo changed her shoes in the entryway, carefully took off her schoolbag, held it in her arms, and walked through the corridor into her room.

His room was small, with several sheet music books and a pencil piled on his desk.

He took the "talking letter" out of his bag and placed it on the table.

Upon opening the package, there was a light pink card with a picture of a bear holding a guitar printed on the front.

There is a small round button in the upper right corner of the card. Pressing the button will play a pre-recorded sample music.

It was a short piano piece, but the sound quality wasn't very good; it was thin, like there was a layer of glass behind it.

The back of the card has a small microphone hole and a red "REC" button.

He read the instructions over and over again until he was sure he understood the operating steps before he felt relieved.

Xia Mo sat at her desk for a long time.

He opened the cello case next to him, inside was his handmade cello, his companion who had been practicing for many years.

The wood of the instrument body gleamed with a warm luster under the light, and the slightly mottled scratches bore witness to his every training session.

Last week, after a gathering at Huahua's house, Huahua's mother said that he looked melancholy when he played the piano. So Xia Mo tried playing a piece she had written on the cello, and Huahua immediately liked it.

They said the cello sounded "like crying."

This assessment wasn't exactly complimentary, but Xia Mo understood what she meant—the cello's deep, resonant tone was more suitable for the piece "Sunny Day" than the piano.

Yes, it's "Sunny Day".

The piece he played for Asuka a few times. When it didn't have a name, Asuka called it "that nice one."

Later, he told her his name, and she was stunned for a moment.

"Why is it called a sunny day? It sounds like it's raining."

"Because it will clear up eventually," he said.

Feibiao glanced at him but didn't ask any more questions.

In late summer, I set up the violin and placed the card on the floor near the bridge.

This way, the microphone can pick up sound clearly without distortion.

He adjusted the card's position, took two deep breaths, then squatted down, pressed the "REC" button, released it, quickly returned to the stool, and began to play the bow.

The sound of the cello flowed slowly from between the strings.

He didn't play the whole piece.

Twenty seconds is too short.

He was playing the chorus of "Sunny Day"—the melody that slowly rises from a low point, like someone looking up to see the sunlight.

The cello's sound is much lower than the piano's, and it's not as clear.

But it is precisely this somber tone that gives the melody an indescribable warmth.

It's like someone is standing outside your window in the middle of the night, singing you a song through the glass, holding every note in their mouth, unwilling to spit it out.

Sixteen beats. Twenty seconds.

As the bow left the string, Xia Mo's fingers trembled slightly.

He put down his bow, walked quickly to the card, and pressed the play button.

A soft hiss—a very faint background noise, and then the sound of a cello came from the card.

Thin and rustling, like through a layer of gauze. But every note is there, the breath between the notes is there, that cautious, afraid-of-disturbing feeling, it's all captured.

Most importantly—that melody, from low to high, from dark to light, from rain to sunshine.

I listened to it several times at the end of summer.

"That's fine," he said softly.

He ran his finger across the surface of the card, erasing the sample piano piece, and the recorded melody was officially saved.

He found a light pink envelope, the kind with a strawberry pattern, which he had casually bought at a stationery store in the mall. He carefully placed the card inside and wrote a small note on the front of the envelope.

Happy Birthday to Asuka.

He then stuffed the envelope into the deepest part of his desk drawer and covered it with several sheet music books.

He sat down at his desk, opened a blank music score book, picked up a pencil, and wrote a few notes on the staff.

That's the beginning of "Sunny Day".

He wanted to copy down the complete score of that piece and give it to Asuka along with a card containing the cello melody.

So that she could look at the sheet music, listen to his violin playing, and remember this summer.

The first star lit up on the horizon outside the window.

The last day of July is almost over.

August is coming.