Chapter 41: The Forty-First Day of Being a Salted Fish

It was still purely instrumental.

Perhaps these children did not yet possess the ability to fully produce a “song.”

Language—the human system of communication composed of words—is not actually something people are born mastering. Not everyone can accurately express their feelings through text.

Or rather, the vast majority of people cannot.

This was especially true for these children, who had received almost no formal education.

They could use their hearts to feel and create music, a language of pure emotion. But writing lyrics for the melodies they composed was still too difficult for them at this stage.

Lu Yuan was not surprised by this.

In fact, the level these children had reached was already more impressive than he had initially imagined.

The Desolate Planet was not entirely devoid of music. “Songs” emerged in many places: during labor, during courtship, and even during battle.

Consequently, the native music of the Desolate Planet was usually primitive and rugged, used primarily to vent primal desires. The people of the Desolate Planet generally had no time for delicate emotions, let alone the leisure to hone elegant expressions. Their songs were spontaneous outbursts; their lyrics were blunt to the point of innocence. They argued, they cursed, they confessed their love, and they sought physical intimacy.

But the children of the small band were different.

What they wanted to create was something else entirely.

Something that could touch the heart, express a mood, evoke resonance… something that could be seen as more “elegant” and “artistic.”

This did not mean that what they made was “superior” or better than other music on the Desolate Planet. But it was a different path. A path that, at least in their immediate surroundings, no one had walked before, and no one could guide them on.

Whether it was teaching themselves instruments or composing their own arrangements, they had received almost no instruction. What they were engaged in was a creation from nearly nothing.

It was undoubtedly difficult.

Yet in these past six months, they had already produced several pieces. Although they still seemed unpolished, Lu Yuan could hear clear progress in them.

Today’s piece centered on Yan Yan.

The division of labor among the teenagers was quite clear. Er Ya was the drummer, responsible for various percussion instruments. Tiechui and Tiezhu handled the wind instruments, while Ying Ying and Yan Yan preferred string instruments.

When Lu Yuan first heard their music, Ying Ying played the harp and Yan Yan played the guzheng¹. However, over the past six months, because Lu Yuan had helped them craft some new instruments, they had adjusted their primary focuses.

Having two plucked string instruments together was somewhat redundant, so the two girls each practiced a bowed string instrument as well. Ying Ying practiced the erhu², while Yan Yan learned the violin.

This way, they could provide different instrumental combinations for different types of music.

What they had brought today were the violin and the harp.

The teenagers had only been learning their instruments for a short time, so their playing was not particularly technical. But because they were naturally gifted, their music was always rich with emotion, and their individual styles had gradually begun to form.

Yan Yan was a quiet girl. Her playing style matched her personality: very still.

When playing the guzheng, her music sounded solemn and calm. The violin, however, had a rounder, mellower tone, so her playing felt more like a flow of water—carrying a certain tranquil indifference, clear and cool as it flowed through the depths of one’s heart, washing away all restlessness.

After a brief solo, the harp notes joined in, moving from shallow to deep. In this piece, Ying Ying’s part mostly utilized light, high notes, making the harp sound lively and cheerful, carrying a joyful atmosphere like the awakening of all things.

The violin’s tone turned merry in response, while nearby, Er Ya tapped on a xylophone to accompany them. The violin was crisp and the xylophone was cool; it felt like early spring, when melting ice and snow form small streams that splash against the surrounding pebbles and rocks, slowly converging toward a distant river.

However, as Tiezhu and Tiechui’s French horns joined in, the music suddenly entered a new phase. A faint sense of sorrow and melancholy emerged. The harp and xylophone adjusted to this rhythm, and the bitterness of parting surged into the heart.

But the violin remained steady. Like a wise sage, its voice was unwavering, setting the tone for the entire piece and preventing the music from sliding into an abyss of grief.

Parting was inevitable, but the road ahead was bright after all. The light musical notes seemed to offer a blessing, with the harmonies of the other instruments responding in kind. Friends would miss each other, yet they trusted one another. This journey for their friend would surely be as smooth and joyful as this spring scenery.

The music slowly faded to a stop.

Lu Yuan nodded.

The imagery of this piece was actually very clear. Obviously, the children had drawn inspiration from the departures of Siming, Zhu Rong, and Geshu Qing to create a spring farewell song.

“Joyful but not licentious, sorrowful but not distressing³. Not bad,” Lu Yuan evaluated after a moment’s thought, looking at the teenagers’ expectant gazes. “However, the piece still feels a bit fragmented.

“You spent a great deal of time describing spring, but it didn’t serve much of a purpose. It was only used as a contrast to the mood of parting before giving a final blessing… the final blessing even feels a bit forced.”

“Because this happened in the spring,” Ying Ying replied.

“I know.” Lu Yuan nodded. “But music shouldn’t just be a record of facts. More importantly, it’s about the transmission of emotion. It originates from life, but it should also transcend it.

“For example, if the departure of Siming… and Geshu Qing hadn’t happened in the spring, but in the autumn, what kind of song would you have written? Would the emotions you wanted to express have changed?”

“Hmm… there probably wouldn’t be much change,” Tiechui thought for a moment.

“At most, it would change from wishing them a smooth journey and a happy life to wishing them a rich harvest and bountiful fruits?” Tiezhu added.

“But that wouldn’t change the theme of the piece,” Yan Yan said.

“What you mean is,” Er Ya pondered, “describing so much of spring is unnecessary. The role of spring in this song is to provide a cheerful mood to contrast with the later parting. We could actually just describe that cheerful emotion itself.”

Lu Yuan smiled. “You could look at it that way. However, keep in mind, I’m not saying you can’t describe spring.

“It’s just a matter of prioritizing the primary and secondary elements. We don’t need to describe the full picture of spring; we only need to focus on its emotional characteristics.” Yan Yan said, “…My part was too heavy in this piece.”

She was speaking more than usual today. Given that the entire piece centered on her, Lu Yuan guessed she might have been the one who led its composition.

“No, it wasn’t you,” Ying Ying countered. “It’s that the parts for Er Ya and me were too heavy, or Tiechui and Tiezhu’s parts were too small. You are the ‘keynote’ of the whole piece; you need to be present throughout.”

“Our parts were indeed a bit too simple. Our scores were identical; it wouldn’t have made a difference if only one of us played. We should add more content,” Tiezhu said as well.

Lu Yuan laughed. “You can revise it again. Next time you come over, I can help you record it and send it to Geshu Qing and the others.”

Siming was of a different generation than these children; although they were on good terms, becoming true friends was likely difficult. Zhu Rong clearly had different interests and wasn’t very close to these teenagers. It was Geshu Qing who seemed to have had some meaningful interactions with them. Geshu Qing had even made records of this.

So Lu Yuan guessed that this song was primarily intended for Geshu Qing.

“Mm.” The teenagers all nodded.

“Then we’ll go back and revise it some more…” Er Ya said, glancing at the others.

Lu Yuan raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

It wasn’t that he was trying to rush them out, but he sensed these children had something else to say, yet were hesitating because he had pointed out flaws in their music.

“Actually, we don’t want to just send it to Geshu Qing,” Yan Yan said. “We were wondering if we could post it on StarNet.”

“Uncle Siming discussed some things with us before he left,” Er Ya explained. “He said we should write songs well, and Uncle Goudan should film his TV series well. He’s counting on us to change the image of the people on the Desolate Planet.

“He said the current perception of people from the Desolate Planet is that we’re criminals, heartless, and not fit to be human. That’s unfair. But if we want to reverse that impression, we can only rely on our own efforts. We have to find a way to let others know that we are also civilized, thinking people.

“Music is a path. A very good path for people outside to get to know us.”

“Uncle Goudan said he asked you if he could post his TV series on StarNet, and you refused at the time.” Tiechui took over the conversation. “But we think that’s because you know the Desolate Planet is a place where civilization isn’t allowed to exist.

“Uncle Goudan’s TV series would make it very easy for people to see it was filmed on the Desolate Planet, so it can’t be easily posted on StarNet. But our music is different; it won’t expose the environment we live in.”

“Uncle Siming said that if we’re willing, we can ask for your help to gradually upload the music we’ve composed to StarNet. He’ll find ways to promote us and get people to notice us, all without letting anyone know we’re on a Desolate Planet.

“That way, when the time comes that we can finally tell people we’re from a Desolate Planet, it will be a huge shock! They’ll be stunned to see that people from a Desolate Planet are actually like this! The impact will be much stronger than if we just told people from the start that there’s music on a Desolate Planet.”

“Hmm…” Lu Yuan pondered for a moment.

Although the children’s explanation was brief, it was obvious that Siming’s plan wasn’t nearly that simple. He could easily think of many other motives and reasons behind it. However, for these children, knowing this much was enough.

Still…

Siming really was dedicated to squeezing every bit of labor out of him.

Lu Yuan smiled. “Fine, it’s not too much trouble. I can help you with this.

“However, based on the pieces you’ve composed so far and your current skill with your instruments, it’s going to be difficult to stand out and gain a following among the many bands in the Empire, or even the Interstellar Alliance.

“You’ll have to keep working hard.

“By the way, think of a band name and some stage names for yourselves. Your own names are fine, but… they have too much of that Desolate Planet flavor. People on the outside don’t usually have names like yours.”

“We’ve already thought of a name for the band.” Er Ya blinked. “It’s called ‘Desolation⁴‘.”

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Translator’s Notes

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1. guzheng: A traditional Chinese plucked zither with a history spanning over 2,500 years. It typically has 21 strings and movable bridges, producing a bright, cascading sound often associated with flowing water or nature. ↩
2. erhu: A traditional two-stringed bowed instrument. Despite having only two strings, it is highly expressive and capable of mimicking human singing, often used to convey deep emotion or melancholy. ↩
3. Joyful but not licentious, sorrowful but not distressing: A classic aesthetic principle from the Analects of Confucius (le er bu yin, ai er bu shang). It advocates for emotional moderation in art—expressing joy without becoming excessive (yin) and grief without becoming self-destructive or overly bitter (shang). ↩
4. Desolation: The band name in Chinese is “Huang” (荒), which means desolate, wild, or ancient. It is the same character used in “Desolate Planet” (荒星). By choosing this name, the children are reclaiming the derogatory label of their home as a source of artistic identity. ↩