The heavy rain hit the roller shutter doors of the convenience store, playing tens of millions of broken drums. Xia Chan counted the last coins and stuffed the canvas shoes soaked in rain into a plastic bag. The neon sign cast a reflection of "no traffic" in the stagnant water. When she ran barefoot across the zebra crossing, she heard a confused C minor in the direction of the piano room.
When the door was pushed open, the lightning just opened the sky, and Jiang Zhixi was tearing the leather of the piano stool. His hearing aid was soaked in a whiskey glass, and the outline of the electrocardiogram monitoring electrode was visible under his wet shirt. The broken keys were scattered all over the ground, like pulled out shark teeth.
"The prelude to "Raindrops"." Xia Cicada stepped on the fragmented moonlight all over the ground, "You played the funeral march."
Jiang Zhixi grabbed the score frame and smashed it at the glass window, and the splashing mouth cut his jaw: "Get out!" The blood beads fell into the resonance board of the piano box, making a small sound like a cicada's cracking.
Xia Chan took out the faded harmonica from his jeans pocket and stuffed the mint candy paper into his bleeding palm. When the first note overflowed from the rusty copper sheet, Jiang Zhixi's spasmping fingers suddenly hovered in the air.
"Do you feel it?" She pressed his palm to her spine, and her lips continued to rub the harmonica grille. "Chopin turned the sound of rain into a triple, like--" The wet exhalation was transmitted to his palm with the vibration of the sound of the piano.
Jiang Zhixi withdrew his hand like an electric shock, but put his forehead against the back of her neck in the next second. His bloody fingertips pressed the central C, and Xia Cicada immediately blew the corresponding pitch with the harmonica. At the contact of the skin, the sound waves transmitted a strange resonance along the bones.
"Here..." He suddenly grabbed her ankle and pressed the pedal. "The sound is like the heartbeat of a drowning person." The blood oozing from the palm wound dyed her pale skin red, winding into a pentave on the cast iron stand.
When the thunder and the zodiac sign of the seventh exploded at the same time, Jiang Zhixi suddenly bit the strawberry leather band on her hair. Xia Cicada raised her head in a stronger trembling sound and saw that the unremoved surgical thread behind his ear was beating with the pulse, like a lurking cicada pupa.
At three o'clock in the morning, they curled up in the piano resonance box and ate mint candy. Jiang Zhixi folded a thousand paper cranes with sugar paper and stuffed them into her soles: "I heard that if you gather a thousand cranes, you can make a wish."
"I want you to play "Revolution" completely." Xia Cicada wrapped the blood-stained gauze around his wrist, "Use real tactile memory, not..." Her fingertips touched his crippled auricle.
The surveillance camera suddenly turned on the red light, and Jiang Zhixi turned over and pressed her into the shadow. At the moment of lightning, Xia Cicada saw his wet outline reflected in his pupils, as well as the Xia Cicada that was falling on the banyan tree outside the window.
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