193: Chapter 198 Sending someone off at the airport

Ed, Sean, and Charlie's flight was at 3 PM, flying to Shanghai to transfer to Los Angeles.

Chen Mo didn't call a driver; he drove his father's black Mercedes-Benz E-Class to the hotel to pick them up. In the back seat were several bags of Changsha specialties—vacuum-packed stinky tofu, bags of chili sauce, and several large boxes of Chayan Yuese tea bags.

Ed sat in the passenger seat holding the Orange Cat. Inside the cat carrier was a small blanket Mother Chen had secretly tucked in last night, saying it was to cover the Orange Cat on the road.

Sean and Charlie were squeezed in the back seat. Sean's legs were too long, his knees pressing against the back of the driver's seat.

Charlie was squeezed into the corner, clutching the John Lennon sweatshirt he'd bought from that vintage shop on Taiping Street the night before.

Arriving at Huanghua Airport, Chen Mo parked the car in the temporary parking spot at the departure level and helped them unload their suitcases from the trunk.

Ed's suitcase was the heaviest. It was stuffed with several bags of vacuum-packed stinky tofu and two jars of chili sauce hand-packed by Mother Chen—one extra spicy, one mild. The labels were written in crooked English with a ballpoint pen by his mother.

Ed gently placed the cat carrier with the Orange Cat on top of the suitcase and stood up to look at Chen Mo.

There was silence for several seconds, then he opened his arms and hugged him tightly. It was a long hug, his red hair brushing against Chen Mo's ear. The Orange Cat poked its head out of the carrier to look at the two of them, then retracted it.

"Wait for you to come to London for the tour."

"Soon."

Ed let him go, slung the cat carrier strap back over his shoulder, and turned to walk toward the security checkpoint.

After walking a few steps, he turned back: "You owe me fifty pounds from that bet last time. I don't want you to pay it back; use it for that unplugged show in London. It's your call, the odds are inverted."

Chen Mo stood where he was, hands in his pockets, and said, "See you in London."

Ed waved, hugged the Orange Cat tightly, and walked into the security channel. The cat's tail, wearing a little dark blue vest, poked out from the edge of the carrier and flicked gently.

Sean stood before Chen Mo, his eyes red. He took that 90s Bulls hat he'd bought at the Taiping Street vintage shop from his pocket, put it on his head, and pulled the brim down low.

"My mom told me to say happy birthday to you. She said the maple cookies didn't burn this time, but I forgot to bring them for you. She'll probably bake another batch and mail them to Los Angeles when I get back."

"She also asked me when your new song is coming out. I said soon. Actually, I don't even know if you're really close."

"Tell your mom thanks for me when you get back. Tell her it's soon, really soon."

Sean pushed up the brim of his hat, revealing eyes still rimmed with red.

He didn't hug him again, just reached out and shook Chen Mo's hand firmly, then turned and strode into the security channel with his suitcase, without looking back.

Charlie stood at the end. He folded the sweatshirt neatly, put it in his carry-on bag, zipped it up, and then straightened up to look at Chen Mo.

Silence for several seconds. He said nothing, just reached out and patted Chen Mo's shoulder, the force neither too heavy nor too light—just right.

He grabbed his suitcase, turned, and walked toward the security checkpoint. After walking a few steps, he looked back, waved, and disappeared into the security channel.

After the three of them had walked away, Taylor said softly from the side: "Your friends are very good."

Chen Mo stood where he was, watching the direction they had disappeared, and said: "I know."

"You know what?"

"I know they're good, and I know why they're good—because they don't need me to be Chen Mo."

"The day Ed met me, I helped him fix the chord inversion for 'Photograph' in Beverly. Sean played ball with me at the Culver City gym; he was more excited than I was when I made that three-pointer for the first time. Charlie—"

"Charlie had his chords changed by me countless times in the recording studio. Every time he disagreed, every time he said, 'You're right'."

Chen Mo lowered his head and chuckled, recalling the scene. He felt a bit amused, and a bit sad.

"When they met me, the Grammy Awards nominations hadn't been announced yet, and I wasn't a millionaire. I know who they like."

Taylor didn't reply, just gently placed her hand on his wrist, her fingertips landing next to the silver bracelet he had just put on.

Two days later, when Chen Mo woke up, he found that Taylor had already packed her suitcase and was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window watching the sunrise over the Xiang River.

The sky outside was transitioning from gray-blue to pale orange. The statues on Orange Island were outlined with a golden rim by the morning light, and a thin mist hung over the Xiang River. A few white egrets flew up from the sandbar in the middle of the river.

Taylor was wearing that faded band T-shirt, barefoot on the wooden floor, holding a cup of black coffee in her hand.

Chen Mo leaned against the doorframe, watching her, his voice hoarse from just waking up. He asked: "Not letting me see you off?"

Taylor didn't turn back, her voice lower than usual.

"Sean talked to you half the night last night. Ed said he wouldn't cry, but his eyes were red."

"Charlie didn't say anything, but he looked back when he reached the security checkpoint. So I guess—if you see me off, I'll cry too."

"Did you cry?"

"No, but I'm close." She turned around and placed the coffee cup on the windowsill.

Her amber eyes were a very pale golden-brown in the morning light, a bit like the warm light on the Huawei watch face on her wrist.

At first, this watch didn't really fit Taylor's style, but now it fit strangely well.

In the morning, Chen Mo drove her to the airport. He parked the car and helped her take her luggage out of the trunk.

The two stood at the departure level for a while. An old song was playing on the speakers.

Taylor took a chain box out of her pocket and handed it to Chen Mo.

On the inside of the silver chain, a line of tiny letters was engraved: "Keep going. I'll be watching."

She didn't wait for him to open it, just pressed the box gently into his palm, her fingers lingering on his palm for a good while.

"The bracelet I gave you last time was engraved with 'dont stop'. This one is new. I want to tell you, someone is watching you walk. You don't need to look back to know."

"Why do you never give me things in person when you see me off? Last time, the ruby brooch was brought by Scott. The time before that, the music box was mailed to the recording studio. This time, you held it in your hand and gave it to me yourself—"

Chen Mo teased gently: "But you didn't open it for me to see."

"Because if I gave it to you in person, you would cry."

"I wouldn't."

"Your eyes are red right now."

Chen Mo didn't deny it, just looked at her with red eyes.

Taylor gently placed the box of the old bracelet into his pocket, her fingers slowly withdrawing from the edge of the pocket.

She pulled her suitcase into the security channel, looked back at him, and waved.

She didn't say "Goodbye"; she said "Happy Birthday", and her voice was loud enough that many people turned to look.

Today was not his birthday. His birthday had passed several days ago.

Chen Mo stood where he was, waiting until she had passed security before turning to leave. He sat in the car without starting the engine immediately.

Chen Mo opened the velvet box. The silver bracelet reflected a soft light in the morning sun. The line of small words on the inside was clearly visible — "Keep going. I'll be watching."

He put the bracelet on his left wrist, side by side with his Cartier.

After a moment, Taylor sent a message: "I got one lyric wrong on your birthday... My Chinese pronunciation wasn't accurate, but Mother Chen said it didn't matter. Huagu Opera doesn't have a standard tone anyway."

"She knew I wasn't singing opera; I was asking her to let me stay. She understood. You are also from Hunan, you understood too."

Chen Mo was silent for a long while before typing a few words.

The February sunshine of Changsha spilled over the entire cockpit from the panoramic sunroof.

The small figurine of the Chairman on top of the center console, carefully wrapped with straw rope by his father several times, shone with a faint golden-red luster in the morning light.

Chen Mo started the engine and drove toward home.