April, the weather gradually warms up, the warm moisture brought by the ocean monsoon from the south sweeps across the sky, bringing continuous light rain.
The pattering rain falls on the umbrella, creating a subtle sound. With a slight turn of the fingers, the umbrella top rotates, stirring up spirals of water. An occasional glance back reveals the girl’s face under the umbrella.
A few strands of bangs flutter in the breeze, and her blue eyes appear sowhat misty in the humidity. Coupled with a black outfit, she exudes a subtle sense of cool detachnt.
This way, the girl holds the umbrella, walks through the stone paths in the campus, arrives at a small mansion, closes the umbrella, places it in the storage area, and then walks inside.
"Tilan is here." Just as she enters, soone calls her na.
Looking up, it’s her familiar songstress classmates, Shui Yanqing and Blanchi, who are making crafts in an empty classroom, with molded cookie prototypes in front of them.
"Haven’t Ores and the others arrived yet?" The girl slightly shakes her hair, dropping a few ice particles, and her hair becos refreshed.
"No, Ores seems to have a joint press conference to attend this morning, so she’ll be late," Shui Yanqing explains.
"What about Prin and the others?" Tilan walks to the side, washes her hands in the sink, and then sits down beside them.
"Prin should arrive soon; she lives quite far from here, as does Audrey."
"It’s rare that everyone has ti today, so Blanchi and I organized this gathering," Shui Yanqing explains.
This year, the songstresses have been quite busy, and like Tilan, they’ve begun forming their own Star Clusters, dealing with various attempts to recruit and invest in them. They hardly gathered for months, at most squeezing in a al together, often with incomplete attendance.
Approaching the assessnt combat ti set by Yarnasha, everyone postponed other schedules, thus having synchronized free ti.
Tilan, Blanchi, and Shui Yanqing together, the three knead cookies, first placing the filling in the middle of the dough, then using special molds to press it firm, and finally putting them on the platter.
"This should do it." After about 20 minutes, the three finished molding the cookies, Tilan and Shui Yanqing sequentially placed the trays into the oven and then set the tir.
While tidying up the table, the three chat about recent daily life.
"Recently, I fild the first album with everyone, they said it will be released next month." Blanchi feels a bit excited and expectant.
"What style is it?" The two ask curiously.
"It should be considered a fantasy adventure style, the whole album is a clear story line, telling the story of a village boy embarking on a journey to find his childhood sweetheart and ultimately becoming a world-renowned hero. Oh, and I’m playing that childhood sweetheart in the album." Blanchi sits on the stool, happily swinging her legs.
"Sounds good." Though cliched, it’s classic and iconic.
"Speaking of new albums, I’ve only managed to complete one song recently." Shui Yanqing ponders.
Upon hearing this, Tilan slightly tilted her head, rembering she hadn’t prepared any songs, feeling a bit embarrassed suddenly.
To keep their popularity and influence, songstresses release new songs periodically, and the release tis often see enthusiastic fan discussions and exchanges.
There were originally many music companies offering songs, but she was dissatisfied with most of the styles, thus postponing them, and later forgetting due to busy affairs.
"Since others haven’t arrived yet, let show you." Shui Yanqing trusts Blanchi and Tilan enough.
After speaking, she takes out her Personal Terminal, clicks play, a burst of stereoscopic lights projects out, then so water sounds start, and the three seem to enter the depths of the ocean.
The surrounding lights shift, growing deeper and darker, until a blue slit appears at the bottom after a few seconds, then the view constantly expands, as the luminous ’slit’ approaches, gradually revealing its true form—it turns out to be a long train traveling under the sea.
The lens enters the compartnt, amidst a crowd of gray silhouettes, the girl with teal blue hair sitting among them stands out.
Surrounded by office workers holding briefcases, she’s the only one in a deep blue princess dress, with a luxurious hairstyle, seated sideways, resembling a delicate doll.
The train slightly sways, ticking regularly as it advances, the office workers beside her also sway, a mundane scene tinged with so dreariness and inescapable ordinary banality, only the girl seated in the center of the lens exhibits a striking color and fairy tale aura, incompatible with the surrounding environnt.
Then the girl slightly opens her mouth, a voice slightly tinged with sadness arises, describing the lancholy inside everyone’s hearts—that’s pure ideals constantly clashing with reality’s vanity, ultimately shattering into pieces of sorrow and darkness.
In the song, the girl reminisces her childhood innocence and flawless days, bubbles float in the train, each bubble contains a little girl, with her father, with her mother, with her friends, with little animals, in scenes laughing together.
As the song reaches its climax, all the bubbles disperse, returning the carriage to its icy gray hues once more, only outside the glass behind the girl, so fish swim by leisurely, they retain a bit of color, but it’s not obvious, like creatures trapped in window fras.
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