Chapter 15: The Redundant Yu

Do you understand rock? Do you know what rock spirit is?

What?

Chen Ci's question left Yang Tongxue speechless, her small mouth slightly open.

You should first grasp the idea of rock before speaking.

Yang Tongxue still hadn't let go: "I don't get the concept of rock; if you know, just tell me."

What clear logic! Chen Ci suddenly wiped the smile from his face, replacing it with a cold, stern expression.

What role are you speaking to me in now—actor or girlfriend?

"Huh?" Yang Tongxue blinked in surprise, her bright eyes flashing a hint of alarm.

She finally let go of the script and grabbed Chen Ci's cuff.

With a loving gaze she said: "Of course I'm your girlfriend~ dear..."

Hiss—

Someone shivered, but Yang Tongxue didn't care, blinking her watery, alluring big eyes at Chen Ci.

Fortunately, Chen Ci was fairly worldly, showed no fear, and even felt a secret delight.

He rubbed his delicate white hand, put on his signature smile: "Rock, actually it's quite simple..."

Mm-hmm.

Yang Tongxue nodded obediently, turning into an eager elementary student, not minding being teased even in broad daylight.

Chen Ci continued: "As the name suggests, it's rock and roll. But do you know what it describes?"

Um... I don't know.

It describes a ship swaying at sea; in English "rock and roll", rock is fore‑aft sway, roll is side‑to‑side sway.

Huh?

Yang Tongxue seemed to have her curiosity piqued; she had never thought rock would be related to ships.

She wasn't the only one curious; Thirteen beside her also unconsciously pricked up his ears to listen.

This actually refers to the triangular trade that began in the sixteenth century, when tens of millions of black slaves were shipped to the Americas, and millions died aboard the ships.

"Um..." Yang Tongxue lowered her head slightly embarrassed.

The tragedy that occurred centuries ago on the other side of the world is not easy to empathize with.

Her reaction was as Chen Ci expected, since he himself felt much the same.

Want to keep listening?

Um...

Yang Tongxue clearly hesitated; the story's development was nothing like she imagined—neither legendary nor romantic.

It's too dark, not suitable to listen to while eating.

Listen.

Thirteen's voice suddenly sounded, and Chen Ci noticed the kid seemed very interested in rock's origins.

Alright, the patron comes first; Chen Ci organized his words, trying not to spoil everyone's appetite.

Early Westerners weren't nearly as free as today; even what music people of different skin colors listened to was strictly divided by class.

Only in the 1950s did a DJ finally brandish the rock banner, playing Black music; this broke the racial music barrier, letting more white youths encounter rock.

You could say rock is a struggle, a cry from the oppressed lower classes—that's its gene.

I think the rock spirit is actually a spirit of exploration: exploring the ideal life, exploring what people ought to become, why they haven't become that...

After that long lecture, Yang Tongxue was nearly dozing off, propping her head with one hand, barely holding on.

Lao Zhao beside them was even more exaggerated, half his face slumped on the steak, and you could faintly hear their snores.

Only Thirteen sat upright, looking deeply moved.

Chen Ci was almost running out of material, but since the patron was so supportive, he felt bad stopping.

Brother Ci, the white youths you mentioned who encountered rock in the 1950s—aren't they just the Beatles' generation?

Hmm, not bad—that's the inheritance and development of rock spirit. Let's eat first; we can talk more later.

At this moment Thirteen looked full of admiration, solemnly nodding and promising: "Okay!"

Both the asleep and the awake were startled awake by that cry.

Yang Tongxue rubbed her sleepy eyes open and murmured: "Class over?"

The difference between a poor student and a top student is obvious at a glance.

Chen Ci reached out and pinched the corner of her mouth: "Yeah, time to eat..."

Times change; in a spacious bright meeting room, Chen Ci glanced at the PPT on the big screen and couldn't help letting out a big yawn.

On the wall in the center of the meeting room hung a banner bearing the large characters: "2008 Harmonious China Welcomes the Olympics."

As the program planner for this event, Chen Ci was attending his first project seminar; he had guessed it would be boring, but hadn't expected it to be this boring.

Promoting traditional culture, we can't neglect classical poetry. My idea is to translate classic poems into English so foreigners can feel the charm of Tang and Song verses.

Translating ancient poetry? Chen Ci rarely showed interest; this is indeed a technical task.

To know that translating a classic well earns you master status; its difficulty is hardly less than writing a new classic.

Even popular novels are like that, let alone Tang and Song poetry, which embodies five thousand years of Chinese history, civilization, culture, and art.

This is my translation of Li Qingzhao's "Ru Meng Ling"; please enjoy...

Chen Ci lifted his head slightly curious, looking at the big screen, as the middle‑aged man in a suit on stage began to read:

Last night rain cats and dogs.

I slept well, but still feel drunk.

Ask my maid about the begonia.

Sheansered: 'alliswell.'

You know, you know? It should be green fat red thin...

"Pfft!"

The conference room, which had been relatively quiet, suddenly sounded with such a discordant noise.

In a moment, everyone instinctively sought the source of the discordance, and quickly locked onto Chen Ci, who was covering his mouth.

Please forgive him; he had already done his best, but hearing the last sentence, he still couldn't hold back.

Seeing so many people looking at him, Chen Ci gave an embarrassed cough twice.

"Is there any problem?" the bespectacled man on stage asked.

Chen Ci hesitated, but still waved his hand.

The man in the suit looked at Chen Ci's face, half-smiling, and said: "This young student feeling unwell should rest at home; otherwise it would spread to others."

"Haha..."

A few people nearby, hearing that, joined in the laughter; Chen Ci's gaze sharpened.

Good grief, you've butchered "Ru Meng Ling" like this—I can't even be bothered to argue with you; you don't even know your own level, do you?

No, he might truly not know—we shouldn't underestimate human genetic diversity.

But just in case, Chen Ci decided to ask first: "Who are you?"

The man in the suit blinked, probably not expecting Chen Ci to react, and pointed at himself: "Me?"

Chen Ci nodded, and the man in the suit said: "I'm a senior English lecturer at New Oriental Education; my surname is Yu, you can call me Teacher Yu."

"Yu Minhong?"

"Not the Yu from Yu Minhong, but the redundant Yu."

Upon hearing it wasn't Yu Minhong, Chen Ci relaxed and nodded: "One lives up to one's name—quite redundant."

"Hahaha..."

This time the laughter in the room was much louder than before...