Chapter 61: This Damn Annoying Street Performer

Zheng Tan felt that Fang Shaokang was rather unreliable.

After this guy entered the county town, he happened to pass by a bicycle shop and suddenly got the idea of buying a bicycle. He actually hadn't ridden a bicycle in a long time; even if he went on a self-drive trip, he would drive a four-wheel vehicle.

The shop owner promoted it for a long time, but Fang Shaokang didn't buy that brand-new bike said to have the most advanced design; in the end he only bought a used one.

Even though it was secondhand, it was still a mountain bike; the shop owner originally wasn't too pleased because Fang Shaokang didn't buy a new bike, but after all he had made a sale, so he gave the bike another inspection.

Fang Shaokang glanced at the black cat squatting not far away, then at the bicycle being inspected, and said to the owner: "Boss, could you please add a front basket for me?"

The shop owner looked at Fang Shaokang somewhat strangely, probably not expecting anyone to make such a request; usually people who buy this kind of bike use it for sports, who would attach a basket to go grocery shopping? But since the customer asked, he wouldn't refuse— a basket could earn him a few extra bucks.

Out of professional duty, the owner still asked: "Are you installing the basket to carry cargo?"

Fang Shaokang thought for a moment, nodded, and said, "Yes."

"How heavy?"

"Not too heavy, I guess."

Then the owner stopped talking; since it was just for carrying goods and not heavy items, there was no need for major modifications— just slap a basket on and it's fine.

After the inspection and basket installation, they exchanged money and goods hand over hand.

He mounted the bike. Fang Shaokang felt pretty good, as if he had returned to his youth, and suddenly looked forward to the journey ahead.

Zheng Tan squatted nearby, coldly eyeing that self-satisfied Mr. Fang. He couldn't understand why someone with the surname Fang would choose such a lifestyle. When he called Jiao Ba earlier, he had heard from Zhao Le's tone a note of respect—not empty politeness, but genuine respect—indicating that this Mr. Fang likely had some background, at least not lacking money. Yet what could drive a man in his mid-thirties to forties to live like this? It made Zheng Tan feel like a down-and-out vagrant.

Zheng Tan was still thinking when Fang Shaokang already rode up on his bike. He stopped in front of Zheng Tan, patted the basket, and said proudly: "Cargo, hop aboard!"

Zheng Tan: "……" Damn you, cargo!

Next they would travel from this small county town to another city. The next stop is a big city. The road conditions around should be fairly decent.

He jumped onto the bike's basket. Zheng Tan felt something was off, though he couldn't say why; anyway, it wasn't as comfortable as squatting in Xiao Youzi's children's bike basket.

Fang Shaokang shouldered his travel pack and rode toward the city's exit. Inside the city the road was still flat, but once out of town it changed.

From the small county town to that big city next stop, they had indeed repaired the roads, but those were expressways— fine for driving, but not for cycling.

Without expressways, they would take the national highway, but not the whole stretch was on it; to experience mountain‑bike travel, after leaving town Fang Shaokang chose a rural lane, rode that stretch, then got onto the national highway.

And Zheng Tan's miserable experience began on that rural lane.

The mountain bike's front has a suspension design, unlike ordinary bikes. The shop owner didn't make many modifications when installing the basket, so the one suffering was Zheng Tan.

As the bike traveled over the country lane— a road of potholed stones and dirt— when it jolted, Zheng Tan felt the basket moving up and down violently, much worse than when he had ridden on Wei Leng's bike; it shook his head until he felt dizzy.

Fang Shaokang, on the other hand, didn't feel much discomfort; he was still in the novelty phase, in good spirits, humming a little tune, until he sensed the movement in the basket.

Zheng Tan jerked hard in the basket twice to get Fang Shaokang's attention; when Fang Shaokang stopped the bike, he jumped straight out of the basket. Landing, he still felt a bit dizzy and almost couldn't stand.

"What's wrong with this?" Fang Shaokang looked at Zheng Tan, who was squatting by the roadside pulling his ears and looking unwilling, then at the basket, flicked it twice with his hand, glanced at the front fork, and suddenly recalled the shop owner's question— the main problem must be here.

"Is the basket uncomfortable?" Fang Shaokang thought, "Why don't you just squat in my pack instead?"

In the end Zheng Tan didn't crawl into the large travel pack; instead he stood on top of it, his claws able to hook onto the pack so he wouldn't fall off, he wouldn't sway like in the basket, and he could even step twice on Fang Shaokang's head.

Having been stepped on twice on the head, Fang Shaokang felt the cat must have done it on purpose— no wonder people say cats have strong vengefulness. Next time he goes to town he should buy a hat, otherwise this cat might really rebel; he, Fang San Shao, has never had his head stepped on like this before.

After leaving the rural lane and getting onto the national highway, the feeling improved a lot— no more jolting, and Zheng Tan could even curl up on the pack for a nap.

Zheng Tan was comfortable, but Fang Shaokang gradually felt the effort increase; the novelty wore off and he began to feel fatigued, the backpack had some weight, and with a cat added it became even heavier.

After riding continuously for several hours, they stopped midway to rest; when they set off again, under Fang Shaokang's complaints, Zheng Tan climbed back onto the basket, just to relieve pressure on Fang San Shu.

The national highway was certainly much better than the rural lane, and Zheng Tan had no major objections.

Thus, riding and stopping intermittently, they only entered the city as evening approached.

They found a nearby small inn to stay in; not knowing whether the innkeeper would allow cats, Zheng Tan hid inside the pack when entering. The room wasn't large, a single room. Other facilities were fairly complete.

Fang Shaokang had ridden half a day and was about to collapse from exhaustion, but before lying down he took out his DSLR digital camera to review today's photos, then pulled out a small notebook to make some notes.

While Fang Shaokang was organizing photos and notes, Zheng Tan ran to the bathroom, filled the tub, adjusted the water temperature, and began to soak.

He hadn't taken a bath in ages. Plus, riding in the basket today had worn him out, so Zheng Tan decided to have a good soak, mainly to drown the fleas on his body. As for fleas, Zheng Tan also felt helpless— they can't be eradicated; even without contacting other animals, you can pick some up in the grass.

He squeezed out some body wash, rubbed it idly, then started swimming. Given his current build, this bathtub could indeed serve as a small pool for Zheng Tan.

It's better being human— you don't attract fleas this easily. Zheng Tan sighed inwardly.

When Fang Shaokang finished tidying up and entered the bathroom, he saw the black cat swimming in the tub, looking quite content. Holy crap, he even used body wash!

Fang Shaokang has friends who also keep cats, so he'd heard as much. Most cats don't like baths. Indeed, just as Zhao Le said, this cat is special.

Black cats are just spooky. Fang Shaokang thought to himself.

After Zheng Tan finished washing, he found a hair dryer to blow his fur. The dryer sat on the table; he turned it on, set it to hot air, and then kept adjusting the angle to blow his fur. It was a bit of a hassle, but as long as it solved the problem.

When Fang Shaokang came out of the bathroom, he looked at the sole bed and the black cat lying right in the middle, and was speechless for a while. The cat's habit of claiming territory is really damn annoying.

The next day, the man and the cat slept until nearly noon before waking.

Zheng Tan was fine; after his bath, besides getting rid of fleas, he slept well and felt fully energized.

Fang Shaokang, on the contrary, felt sharp aches in his neck and back, and his lumbar spine also hurt— aftereffects of cycling. Long‑distance mountain‑bike riding also has its principles, from bike to rider posture; since Fang Shaokang knows nothing about it, he naturally ended up like this.

After lunch, Fang Shaokang and Zheng Tan went out.

Fang Shaokang wanted to take a good look around and get to know the city; Zheng Tan had no particular interest in anything, so he just treated it as a free tour.

The camera was hung around Fang Shaokang's neck; Zheng Tan stayed inside the pack, as before, peeking out through the zipper opening.

These days many inland big cities still lack subways; urban construction certainly can't compare to what it will be like a few years from now.

Zheng Tan didn't care much for many things nowadays; he was just idly bored and tagging along to kill time. He also didn't know exactly what Fang Shaokang was looking at, but the latter seemed quite serious about it.

In the evening, Fang Shaokang came to a square where there were relatively many people; nearby was a commercial street, and on the square some people were dancing— a group of youths and also some middle‑aged women.

The surroundings were rather noisy, so Fang Shaokang probably didn't want to stay long and was preparing to leave.

Before leaving, Zheng Tan's attention was caught by a burst of guitar and string sounds; Fang Shaokang obviously noticed as well and walked over.

In one corner of the square, a few young people were singing; there were also some onlookers, though not many. Moreover, people tossed coins toward them.

Fang Shaokang watched for a while, then during their break he went over and chatted with them.

These five young people weren't from this city, nor from the same place; they had all happened to meet here, got along well, and were preparing to form a band. Although they were high‑school age and still minors, they weren't attending school; they said they loved music too much and wanted to go out and make their way, to see the world.

In many people's youth, there is a dream of wandering, a wanderer's complex. This wandering is a longing for freedom, a pursuit of dreams; nothing seems able to stop that young, restless, overconfident heart.

Zheng Tan vaguely recalled seeing a wandering singer before, in his twenties, who carried a guitar every day and sang in every corner of the city, sometimes even invited by small bars to perform. When people talk about wandering singers, they think of 'no fixed abode, drifting about.' As for wandering singers, Zheng Tan only remembered a down-and-out silhouette, with little else.

At that time, Zheng Tan often hung out at clubs, KTVs and the like, lacking the leisure to listen to street performers' howls, and he held a contemptuous attitude toward wandering singers. Occasionally, in front of pretty girls, he would act kind, tossing a few coins, not treating it as a spiritual enjoyment; in short, it was just an occasional pastime.

"What I need is everyone's appreciation, not pity; we're not the disheveled image others imagine, nor is shaking a few lice from our hair what constitutes street art…" The young man chatting with Fang Shaokang said, sharing his thoughts.

"How much can you lot make in a day?" Fang Shaokang asked.

The young man scratched his head. A bit embarrassed, he said, "It varies; when I was alone I earned little, needing days to scrape together a bus fare. Now it's better—we just sing here a while; we contacted a small bar the day before yesterday and will go perform later tonight, but for now it's early, so singing here is just practice.

Fang Shaokang looked at the discarded bottle caps on the ground, thoughtful. Before leaving, he rented a guitar from a shop. It wasn't a particularly good guitar, not as good as the ones those kids had.

Back at the small inn that evening, Fang Shaokang tried the guitar; at first it felt a bit rusty, but gradually he became proficient—evidently he had practiced before.

Zheng Tan was about to sleep when Fang Shaokang called him over.

"Hei Tan, let's go busk tomorrow!"

Zheng Tan: "……" Why would he suddenly have such an idea?

"I've heard many people make more money busking with pets. Here. I specially prepared this thing for you!"

Saying this, Fang Shaokang took out an empty glass jam jar, and with his other hand held an iron spoon he'd picked up somewhere, tapping the jar with the spoon to produce a clear "ding."

Looking at the jar and spoon, Zheng Tan roughly understood what Fang Shaokang wanted him to do, but for now he pretended not to understand.

Seeing the cat before him show no reaction, Fang Shaokang thought, "That's not right—Zhao Le said this cat understands human speech, is quite capable; if you want to express something, just tell it directly, no need to lure with food."

After a moment of silence, Fang Shaokang said, "Aren't you supposed to be smart? You can't even do this? It's not as miraculous as Zhao Le made it out to be."

The goading tactic didn't work. Zheng Tan continued to keep his head down, pretending not to know.

"How about this: you see, I don't have much pocket money left; take a look at the cheap inn we're staying in—if we busk tomorrow and earn enough, we'll move to a better hotel, a double room with two beds, spacious, not cramped, no need to fight over pillows and blankets—much more comfortable. What do you think?"

Zheng Tan actually gave it some thought this time. Fang Shaokang's claim of having no pocket money didn't mean he was broke, so Zheng Tan dismissed it as bragging; but if they could really upgrade to a nicer inn, he'd certainly agree—this place has flies and mosquitoes, annoyingly noisy.

"Also, if we make money, we'll just take a vehicle to the next city, no more biking."

Zheng Tan glanced at Fang Shaokang; he believed the no‑biking claim—Fang Shaokang had suffered riding and didn't want to anymore, yet he presented it as a condition. Still, if that were true Zheng Tan would be willing to try, though he feared Fang Shaokang might suddenly decide to walk, which would be awful; today he'd seen Fang Shaokang browsing a tent shop, suggesting he might indeed have that idea.

Fang Shaokang tapped the glass jar twice with the iron spoon, then placed the spoon before Zheng Tan, waiting for his decision.

Zheng Tan flicked the spoon; even if he were willing to try, the spoon wasn't easy to pick up.

"Oh, and this!" Fang Shaokang produced a rolled‑paper tube, taped it to the spoon with clear adhesive; the tube was just right for Zheng Tan to slip an arm into.

Zheng Tan glanced at Fang Shaokang—this guy really came prepared. He slipped his arm into the paper tube; lifting his arm also lifted the spoon, which he swung toward the glass jar.

"Ding!"

A clear sound.

"Exactly, just like that—I'll sing a line, you tap once." Fang Shaokang plucked the guitar's metal strings and began singing, "Twinkle twinkle little star~"

Zheng Tan: "……" How foolish.

Seeing Fang Shaokang looking at him, Zheng Tan took a deep breath and struck the spoon.

"Ding!"

"Great! Keep going! The sky is full of little stars~"

"Ding!"

"Hanging in the sky, shedding light~"

"Ding!"

……

They practiced the coordination until after eleven, when the neighbor finally couldn't stand it, came over, knocked on the door and shouted, and only then did the person and cat stop.

The next day, Zheng Tan was led by Fang Shaokang to continue practicing; after lunch and a nap, they set out with their gear around four in the afternoon.

Before it got dark, the number of people in the square began to increase.

At that corner, the five youths seen yesterday were there again; after a quick sound check, they began singing—songs ranging from current pop hits to classic oldies, all favored by the youngsters and full of energy.

Fang Shaokang glanced over, then found an empty spot and placed the prepared cardboard box in front of him.

The box had an opening on top; Zheng Tan felt it resembled a donation box, and he himself was the poor cat begging for charity.

People nearby, seeing the scene, came over.

That rascal Fang Shaokang wore a hat, his beard unshaven for days, making his original appearance hard to discern; Zheng Tan suspected he did it on purpose.

After setting down the cardboard box, Fang Shaokang placed the glass jar beside it, then took out his guitar, leaned against a lamppost, and began to pluck.

The curious gazes of the onlookers made Zheng Tan feel hot‑faced; whether as a former human or now as a cat, he had never performed before a crowd, which embarrassed him—back at the inn it was fine because nobody watched, but now, under so many eyes, he felt the spoon weighed a thousand jin.

He really didn't want to touch that thing!

Not far off, the five youths finished singing a song called "Glory Days" and also noticed this side.

"Hey! Time to start!" Fang Shaokang reminded Zheng Tan.

Zheng Tan flicked his ears; retreating now seemed like fleeing, so after a bit of mental preparation he slipped his arm into the spoon's paper tube.

More and more curious onlookers gathered, while Fang Shaokang began to strum the guitar—a technique that, in the eyes of those five youths, was really not much.

After a prelude, Fang Shaokang's bold voice rang out.

"Traveling the four directions—long roads, endless waters~"

Zheng Tan steeled himself, lifted the spoon and struck the glass jar.

"Ding!"

"Lost and hazy, one village after another~"

"Ding!"

"Watching the setting sun go down and come back~"

"Ding~"

"Earth ageless, heaven undying, the ages everlasting……"

When Fang Shaokang sang the first line, one of the young people over there who was drinking water directly spat it out. Nobody expected that this uncle would actually sing this song while playing guitar.

The performance was terrible, and the singing was terrible, but strangely, the number of onlookers kept increasing. Moreover, many people started throwing money into that cardboard box.

Zheng Tan felt he was now like a **, no, he and Fang Shaokang are both **.

** person, **'s cat, and this buy-two-get-one-free street performance experience. (To be continued..)

PS: A five-thousand-word chapter, sorry no second update.

Thanks kasimgfu for the big reward! Thanks to Yanshan Bai Shui, Xiao Ya Chu Cheng, Bing Feng Ye Lang, Luo Ye Piao Piao, Liu Yi Feng Yue, sleep129, ☆Heaven Sword Walk☆, I Was Reborn, Zi Chen Ling, Shi Guang Mei Ying, Ling Feng 2004, 117764743 Mi Mi, c's subtle heat, Mi Ying, Purple Heart, &Sandstorm&, Fei Lai Yi Hong, Po Luo Fei Chai, Cang Feng Yi, Black p, Xun Mi Zhong......, Yu Zi Jiang Jiang 1989, octopustot, Jia Bei Er, Huan Shi Yao Xing, Qing Er, l deep blue k, Yi Wei's Cactus, kasimgfu's monthly ticket!

Thanks for interpreting this low-key, bro, du lonely sorrow, Lezi Xiao, sj56454564, super Za horsepower, sebastian, 665982147, Nazgul, misty dawn cat, dsfdgf, doesn't want to repay money, warm sun, glass says, 943735636, _déath, Qian Qian's qilin, a bit irritable, Ofemis, no one at Gushe, duduco, silly cat girl, cat fur Maomao, 00 demon 00, Dan an, evening affairs at Heart Pavilion, Liu Yan, birdcheng, thunder, underworld ghost phoenix, water condensing night, Nazgul, flame's alloy, leisurely number core, don't stay in the water, I'm done, character * Taibai, fated, the world is a stage, Mo Yan Nian's reward! Thanks to ct80642470, the wind-blown 92, tea fragrance, book fragrance, red sleeve adds fragrance, city-toppling beauty, slightly painful mang, Miao Xing Xing no Yang light and friends' evaluation tickets.