The girl singing and playing by herself on the other side of the intersection caught Hao Ren's attention, as well as that of many passersby. Perhaps because this little place in the South Suburbs had never seen a street performer before, her appearance had instantly made her the center of attention.
These days, there were three kinds of people who set up instruments on the street. One was the artistic beggar who wore sunglasses and sawed away at an erhu, producing no recognizable tune but pouring out his sorrow. Another was the performance artist who had no grasp of melody and no skill, simply taking revenge on society. The last was someone with genuine talent, worthy of being called a "street performer." Although the young girl across the street looked inexperienced, Hao Ren believed she belonged to the third category. Despite wearing a travel-worn outfit, she had tidied herself up neatly and cleanly, and her face carried a lively, carefree cheerfulness. No matter how he looked at her, she seemed richer than the shabby Vampire at home. Her music also made people stop and listen. The melody was something Hao Ren had never heard before, seemingly composed by the girl herself. It sounded completely different from modern pop music, vast and ethereal, bringing grasslands and wind to mind. The association was strange. Before today, Hao Ren had never understood what people meant when they said that "the highest form of music can convey a state of mind." But now he believed it. That melody truly possessed the power to suddenly broaden one's heart.
When the young girl began singing an unnamed ballad, Hao Ren heard a language he had never encountered before. It sounded like carefree murmuring, with no discernible meaning or vocabulary, as though she had improvised the humming