Household Survival Guide 11

The younger brother opened the door and waved at Xu Si.

From the doorway came a soft rustling of voices, but it seemed only she could hear them.

“Why isn’t she the one who came out?”

“Damn it, how long have we been waiting here?”

Suddenly, a song echoed in Xu Si’s mind:

If you have too many complaints about this world,
If you fall and dare not move forward,
Why must people be so fragile and fallen?
Please turn on the TV and see,
How many people bravely fight for their lives,
Shouldn’t we be grateful?

Stealing fruit and getting stung by bees, who’s laughing secretly?
Don’t give up so easily, as I always say,
If the dream you chase can’t be caught, just change to another dream.
Paint your life with bright colors,
Start by coloring love with the hues you like.
Smile—success and fame are not the goal,
Making yourself happy—that’s the true meaning.

The paper plane of childhood finally flies back into my hands,
The so-called happiness is chasing dragonflies barefoot in the fields until tired.
Stealing fruit and getting stung by bees, who’s laughing secretly?
Leaning on a scarecrow, singing in the wind, I fall asleep.
Oh~ oh~ The afternoon guitar sounds crisper amidst the insects’ chirping.
Oh~ oh~ The sunshine spills on the road, no fear of a broken heart.
Cherish everything even without possession,
Still remember you said home is the only castle.
Following the rice fragrance, the river keeps running,
Smiling faintly, I know the dreams of childhood.
Don’t cry, let the fireflies carry you away,
The countryside ballads are forever a support,
Go home, back to the original beauty.

—Jay Chou, “Rice Aroma”

When this song ended, the people outside played another song:

The plain porcelain sketching the blue flowers, brushstrokes thick then thin,
The peony painted on the bottle is like your first makeup,
The faint sandalwood incense drifts through the window, and I understand your thoughts,
The brush stops halfway on the rice paper,
The glaze colors the lady’s portrait, its charm kept private,
And your sweet smile is like a budding flower waiting to bloom,
Your beauty drifts like a wisp,
Going to places I cannot reach,
Let’s say this is my prelude to meeting you.

Like the timeless blue and white porcelain, beautiful on its own,
Your eyes carry a smile,
The white and blue koi fish leap vividly at the bottom of the bowl,
While copying the Song dynasty script, I’m thinking of you,
You hide a thousand-year-old secret in the kiln,
So delicate, like an embroidery needle touching the ground,
Outside the fence, on the ancient path, I hold your hand,
Through the deserted village,
Oh~ oh~ oh~ oh~

Smoke rises softly, thousands of miles across the river,
At the bottom of the bottle, I write Han dynasty script, imitating the elegance of past dynasties,
Let’s say this is my prelude to meeting you.

—Jay Chou, “Blue and White Porcelain”

Xu Si then turned on the stereo and played another song:

Nonsense, lies, I’m used to them,
I’ve quit the smoking and drinking,
To prove how much I care about you,
Just one sentence, “I want you to understand me,” but I really don’t know how to speak well.
Look, you’re smiling, you say, “Forget it.”
Love alone is simple,
Too many promises can lead to mistakes,
Better to just go back.
Flowers bloom but will eventually fall.

(Chorus repeats)

You say, who says I don’t love anymore?
Nonsense, lies, I’m used to them,
I’ve quit the smoking and drinking,
To prove how much I care about you.
Love alone is simple,
Why does love between two people become so difficult?
You listen to your father who says I’m no good,
The flowers I give you don’t deserve your vase.
He wants me to go far away, the farther the better, not being together is best,
But I listen to my mother who says I shouldn’t give up so easily,
If you still like me, let me win you back, I beg you.

(Chorus repeats)

I’ve had enough of your love, silent for so long,
Too many promises cause mistakes,
You’d rather be sad than have a result,
I’ve had enough of my love, you have more,
Better to return to the freedom of before,
We agreed to let go, who spoke first, no right or wrong,
Flowers bloom but will eventually fall,
Do you want me to be unfilial? That’s just an excuse, you should understand.

—Jay Chou, “Listen to Dad”

The younger brother returned home and played a song on his phone:

Little friend, do you have many questions?
Why do others read comics,
While I’m learning to draw and talking to the piano?
Others play games, I lean against the wall and recite my ABCs,
I say I want a big airplane,
But instead I get an old tape recorder.
Why listen to Mom?
You’ll understand when you grow up.

When I grew up, I began to understand,
Fly higher than others,
Hold hands and dream together,
In your future, music is your trump card,
Use it to fall in love.
Ah! I don’t want to spoil you,
So listen to Mom,
Wait a little longer before falling in love,
I know your future path,
But Mom knows better.

You’ll start copying other classmates,
Writing all over your backpack,
But I suggest you write “Mom” best of all.
I will study hard,
How can I say “study hard” from my own mouth?
I don’t want you to lose, so I tell you to study hard.
Keep the sweater Mom knitted for you carefully,
Because on Mother’s Day, I want to tell her I still have it.
By the way! I’ll meet Chow Yun-fat,
So you can brag to your classmates,
The God of Gamblers will be your dad.
I can’t find the love letters I wrote in childhood,
Don’t give yours away after writing,
Because in a few days you’ll find them on the playground.
You’ll start liking pop songs,
Because Jacky Cheung is preparing to sing “Goodbye Kiss.”
Listen to Mom’s words, don’t hurt her.

When I grew up, I began to understand,
Why I run faster than others,
Fly higher than others,
In the future, everyone will read the comics I draw,
Everyone will sing the songs I write,
Mom’s hardships you won’t see,
The recipe for warmth is in her heart,
Take time to hold her hand often,
Hold hands and dream together,
Listen to Mom’s words, don’t hurt her,
Want to grow up fast so you can protect her,
Her beautiful white hair sprouts happiness,
The angel’s magic warms and blesses.

—Jay Chou, “Listen to Mom”

Grandmother got out of bed and played a song:

The world in the rearview mirror grows distant, a farewell,
You turn around, your profile still beautiful,
I chase with my eyes but hear your tears,
Outside the car window, wandering is the chance I missed,
You stand where tears separate us,
The street scene keeps retreating, your breakdown is scattered outside the window,
You say you’re tired and can no longer love anyone,
The wind blows along the mountain road, all past scenes are my fault,
Counting my shame, how many times have I hurt you?
I head north, leaving behind the season with you,
The steering wheel turns around with my regrets,
I speed up to overtake but can’t shake off the sorrow clinging close,
Counting my shame, how many times have I hurt you?
Stop the mess, let mistakes be pure.

—Jay Chou, “All the Way North”

Those outside were stunned. How could this family love playing music so much? They wanted to join in too!

With that thought, they began playing music themselves.

Wonderful, simply wonderful.