You must also be happy.

Zhang Pa uttered an “oh” and changed the subject, asking Fatty, “You know how to play?”

“Know how to play my head!” Fatty replied. “To support your musical dreams, I risked my reputation—snatched a brand-new guitar someone bought for three hundred sixty bucks.”

“Three hundred sixty…” Zhang Pa said sincerely, “At that price, it must be a good guitar.”

“Of course!” Fatty exclaimed. “The guy played it twice in more than a year—it's practically new.”

Zhang Pa scratched his head and told the Pretty Boy, “If you want to sing, go ahead, just don’t drag me into it.”

“What are you saying? Aren’t we brothers? If we’re brothers, we should charge forward together! Think about it: we both compete, you’re in one team, I’m in another, and in the end, we fight for the championship… The thought alone is thrilling!”

Zhang Pa scratched his head again and sighed, “I’ve noticed you’re only normal when you’re drinking.”

Just as he finished speaking, the door swung open and Da Wu walked in.

Zhang Pa glanced at the time on the computer screen and asked Da Wu, “Quit another job?”

“Had to. That gig was going nowhere,” Da Wu said. “Fatty happened to call me, and when I heard it was about chasing our musical dreams, I knew I had to be in. I’ve always loved art and music since I was a kid.”

Zhang Pa gave Fatty a thumbs up, meaning, “You’re awesome.” Then he turned to the two girls, “Don’t be scared, they’re silly, but harmless.”

The girls burst out laughing, “You guys are hilarious.”

Zhang Pa pondered, “You haven’t seen the scars on Pretty Boy, have you?”

“Who’s Pretty Boy?” they asked.

Pretty Boy pretended not to be the subject, ignoring the question, staring solemnly at the computer screen.

Zhang Pa coughed, “Thought you knew him.” Then he asked Da Wu, “What are you here for?”

“Chasing musical dreams,” Da Wu picked up the guitar. “Among our group, I’m the only one with musical talent, the only one who’s learned an instrument. Fatty and the rest are fools—eat, drink, no ambition.”

“You learned guitar?” Zhang Pa asked slowly.

“I did,” Da Wu spoke loudly. “When I was learning, the teacher said I had talent. Sadly, I made the wrong friends—drinking and fighting with you guys every day, my artistic path was interrupted.”

Zhang Pa sighed again, “You really are only normal when you’re drinking.”

Da Wu raised his voice, “Don’t believe me? I really learned, still remember.” He sat down, apparently ready to play.

“What did you learn?” Zhang Pa asked, meaning, what songs?

“5323, 1323, watch.” He hugged the guitar and played 5323, 1323.

The strings were open; his left hand didn’t press anything. Even so, his right hand managed to produce muted notes—clearly some musical talent.

The two girls were serious music majors, from the Provincial Conservatory, ranked top three nationally. For them to get in, their musical literacy was unquestionable.

Watching these clowns perform, they could barely hold back their laughter.

Zhang Pa applauded, “Wonderful, play another.”

Da Wu said, “Forgot everything else, only remember this. But don’t worry, a few days’ practice and I’ll pick it up again.” Then suggested, “Let’s just start a band.”

Zhang Pa put on a serious expression, “Great, I support it. Only I don’t know anything, can’t sing, I won’t drag you down.”

“Come on, you sing better than Pretty Boy…” Fatty misspoke, immediately earning Pretty Boy’s angry roar, “What did you say? He sings better? Do you even understand music?”

Seeing Pretty Boy react, the girls asked, “You… are Pretty Boy?”

Zhang Pa nearly burst out laughing, but kept a straight face, “I feel sorry for your teachers.”

“What’s it got to do with our teachers?” Fatty shot back.

“With brains like yours, don’t your teachers worry themselves to death in class?”

“I’ll kill you first, believe it or not?”

Zhang Pa turned to the girls, “Lost souls, take care, ladies.”

The ponytail girl laughed, “You’re so funny, I can’t stop laughing. But, why do you call him Pretty Boy?” She split the sentence, the second half directed at Pretty Boy.

“They’re jealous I’m better looking, it’s slander,” Pretty Boy replied.

Fatty warned, “Watch your mouth, don’t push me.”

“What if I do?” Pretty Boy retorted.

“We’re classmates, elementary and middle school,” Fatty said, full of threat.

Da Wu got anxious, “What are you talking about? Are we starting a band or not? I’m the guitarist, Fatty’s on drums, which of you is lead singer?”

Zhang Pa pointed at Pretty Boy, “Him.”

“Alright, you’re on keyboard,” Da Wu said. “It’s settled.”

Zhang Pa glanced at the computer keyboard, “Do I need to bring the computer too?”

“Why bring the computer?” Da Wu asked.

“The keyboard, without the computer, can’t type,” Zhang Pa replied earnestly.

The girls laughed, bending over, clearly delighted.

Da Wu was exasperated, “Ignorant fool! I mean the electronic keyboard—the one you play, the proper name is synthesizer.”

Fatty asked, “Is that what it’s called?”

“Seems so,” Da Wu said confidently, giving a very uncertain answer.

Zhang Pa said, “Don’t think just because I can use this keyboard, I can use that one… Actually, I can’t even use this keyboard properly, after all these years I still can’t touch type.”

“Practice, it’s about practice, I believe in you,” Da Wu said. “Start now.” He hugged the guitar, ready to play 5323, 1323 again.

Zhang Pa sighed, “Guitarist, guitarist, haven’t you noticed the tuning is off?”

As for guitar tuning, you don’t need a great ear. If a guitar sits for a while, played or not, it’ll go out of tune. Some guitar masters retune after every song. For beginners like us, the first thing we do each day is tune.

“Right, tuning,” Da Wu said to Fatty, “Do you have a pitch pipe?”

Fatty asked, “What’s a pitch pipe? Need a flute too?”

Zhang Pa told the girls, “Whatever you do, don’t tell them what a pitch pipe is.”

The girls laughed, “Why not?”

Zhang Pa sighed, “I’m afraid they’ll be a menace to society.”

Fatty grew curious, “How do you know? Learned it?”

“First, there’s a thing called Baidu; second, I’m a writer,” Zhang Pa said. “I’ve always been learning, while you were eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling, I was learning. Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Damn, you’re getting more shameless by the day,” Fatty cursed.

Ponytail asked Zhang Pa, “You’re a writer? Novels online?”

Zhang Pa’s eyes lit up; he got up and fetched two books from a box, returning to say, “First meeting, here’s a gift—my signed books.”

The three men in the room seemed pricked by needles, instantly standing up. Pretty Boy said, “Let’s go.” Fatty said, “Take me with you.” Da Wu said nothing, clutching the guitar as he followed.

The girls asked why.

Fatty explained, “He gives us all a book, warns us not to damage or dirty them, treat them like family heirlooms. The worst part is he’ll randomly check, and if anyone hasn’t taken care of their book, he’ll fight you. You haven’t seen it—the misery.”

Pretty Boy added, “We had a guy called Tiger, tall and strong, used a book as a hotpot mat at dinner and was beaten so badly he went from Tiger to Pig.”

“What? Then we don’t want them, we don’t want them!” the girls quickly refused.

Zhang Pa lamented, “Books are humanity’s steps upward. Why do you neglect progress?”

“Brother, your steps are too much for us,” the girl replied.

“Really don’t want them?” Zhang Pa pressed.

“Cash out, can we just cash out?” the other girl laughed.

“Sigh.” Zhang Pa sighed, “Not giving you books then, good night.”

Suddenly, Da Wu shouted, “Don’t leave, the band isn’t formed yet!”

Pretty Boy realized too, turning back, “We’ve just been fooling around, haven’t discussed the real matter.”

“Brother, I can’t handle your real matter,” Zhang Pa refused.

Maybe in this short time, Zhang Pa’s humor won the music college girls’ favor. Ponytail laughed, “It’s fine, I’ll teach you to sing.”

Pretty Boy said, “Yeah, she can teach you, I’ll learn too, then we’ll sing on the street, develop our own style.”

Zhang Pa smacked his lips, opened the title page of “Strange Chef,” pen in hand, and solemnly asked Ponytail, “What’s your name?”

Ponytail said, “I don’t want the book.”

“Courtesy demands reciprocity. You teach me to sing, I can’t afford tuition, so I offer you a book as thanks for your kindness.” Zhang Pa’s expression was more serious than a news anchor.

Ponytail said, “I want cash too.”

Fatty checked the time and asked Pretty Boy, “Where are we eating later?”

Pretty Boy asked, “You’re paying?”

“You brought two girls, of course you’re paying,” Fatty said.

“I’m treating them, what’s it got to do with you?” Pretty Boy replied.

Da Wu immediately chimed in, “How is it not our business? We’re a team, we have to eat together.” With one sentence, he changed the headcount from singular to plural.

Zhang Pa said, “Are you leaving or not? If not, tell me your names.” He poised his pen over the title page, clearly still intending to give books.

Ponytail said, “Treat me to dinner and I’ll tell you.”

Zhang Pa replied loudly, “Dream on! A book’s only twenty bucks, I give you a book and pay for dinner too?”

Fatty said, “You can pay, you won several thousand at pool the other day…”

“Several thousand?” Da Wu said, “Introduce me to your opponent, someone worse at pool than you?”

Zhang Pa gave up. In just a few sentences, they’d gone from chasing musical dreams to playing pool. He squeezed out a smile and asked Ponytail sincerely, “Beauty, what’s your name?”

“My surname is Not, my name is Saying,” Ponytail laughed.

…

That morning felt like a party, and at noon they gathered for lunch at a small restaurant on the corner. After a show of hands, it was unanimously decided Zhang Pa would pay. He fought for it and won the right to order, so the table was covered in small dishes: starting with shredded tofu salad, potato salad, spinach, smashed cucumber, pickles, peanuts…

The table was filled with assorted cold dishes, and for the beauties, a special order of seafood—seaweed salad.

Looking at the spread, the girls could hardly believe it. Most men, when dining with women, try their best to seem generous, ordering the best dishes.

But this great writer Zhang… not only no fancy dishes, no meat, no hot dishes, not even a big platter!