Rotten God Kingdom

Looking through the side gate of the fortress, the street follows the undulating terrain, with irregular stone slabs paving the roadside. Most of the houses on both sides are not tall, about two or three stories high, with all sorts of things hanging on the balconies.

Clothes drying in the sun, withered vines, and an old iron wind chime worn by the wind.

The houses here are very unique, mostly designed in the shape of musical instruments. Some look like guitars, and some look like round drums. The walls are also covered with colorful graffiti.

Further away, you can see a clock tower. The spire on top is broken off, but the clock face is still there.

The city has a relaxed and languid sense of order, unlike the sick city that uses high walls and iron gates to suppress everything.

Jiang Wang looked at the street, which was as calm as an underwater surface, and suddenly remembered the smell of blood in the hunting city, the smell of disinfectant in the sick city, the smashed windows, and the crowds wearing masks and guarding against each other.

The contrast between the scene before him and the world in his memory gave him a sense of unreality, as if the battles and escapes he had experienced recently were just an overly long dream.

Jiang Wang saw a homeless man on the street, holding a cello and looking at it affectionately.

The homeless man had unkempt hair and a beard that reached his chest, but his eyes remained clear and determined.

"Uncle, what are you doing?" Jiang Xin couldn't help but ask curiously.

The homeless man glanced at her, then quickly looked away, as if in his eyes, a beautiful young woman was far less attractive than the cello in front of him.

"I'm expressing my love to my instrument." The homeless man's affectionate tone gave Jiang Wang goosebumps.

"But the zither is dead, how can it feel your love?" Jiang Xin asked, puzzled. At her age, she couldn't quite understand such abstract language.

"It can sense it. When I express my love, I sing to it. It just hasn't fallen in love with me yet. Once it does, it will automatically make sounds to respond to my love." The homeless man groaned, "Ah, love that transcends species, using music as a medium to convey emotions. When it responds to me, it will play the most beautiful sounds in the world."

Another one has gone mad.

Jiang Wang silently moved a little further away.

"Hmm..." Jiang Wang carefully chose his words, trying to make them sound less presumptuous, "The people here are so pure."

Tong Yao glanced at the homeless man and said in a nonchalant tone, "That's what mediocre people are like. They can't write their own music, so they can only come up with crooked ways. He can keep wasting his time, but when the time comes, he will face the judgment of the city."

The three of them walked slowly down the street. Jiang Wang cherished their time together and enjoyed the beautiful scenery along the way.

To avoid disturbing Jiang Wang and Tong Yao, Jiang Xin deliberately kept her distance and talked to the dazed musicians on the street.

"Trial?" Jiang Wang noticed the word keenly.

"Hmm." Tong Yao didn't keep them in suspense. "In the center of the city stands a golden concert hall. It's the heart of the city. Everyone who enters must hold a concert there within a month. If your music is recognized by the concert hall, you can stay."

"What if you don't get approval? Will you be expelled?" Jiang Wang asked.

"No!" Tong Yao's face was not good. "Those who are not recognized will be tied to the stake and burned at the stake in front of everyone. The sound of sparks flying and the screams of the condemned will be the last music they dedicate to this city."

Jiang Wang smacked his lips.

That's really cruel.

Before Tong Yao could finish speaking, she began to peel back the layers of the city's idyllic facade: "This city operates on a bottom-ranking elimination system. Only by continuously creating valuable songs can one continue to survive here. The opportunity to prove one's worth lies in the Golden Concert Hall."

The better your singing and the more music you compose, the more recognition you will receive from the concert hall, and the higher your status will be here.

Must one dedicate their entire life to creating art?

Human inspiration is limited; no one can guarantee that they can come up with something entirely new at any time, especially when it comes to things related to art.

A lifetime of agonizing thought is not as valuable as a sudden flash of inspiration.

"That's a bit harsh. What if I don't write a new song for a while? Wouldn't that be terrible?"

"There's a second option: learn other people's songs and get recognition from concert halls. That works too. Pre-disaster music is fine, but most people will still choose to write their own."

Jiang Wang asked, puzzled, "Isn't writing your own songs more difficult?"

Despite experiencing catastrophes, humanity has accumulated many high-quality songs over the long years, and there is always something that suits one's taste.

"Only you truly understand yourself. Singing other people's songs actually makes it harder to gain recognition. In terms of technique, there isn't much difference between musicians. Give me a complete score, spend time practicing, and I can always play it. But just playing a complete score isn't enough to gain recognition."

Jiang Wang was increasingly confused: "Then what exactly is the key to gaining the concert hall's approval?"

"It's about feelings."

The songs I write, I understand best.

Even if you can play someone else's song completely, or even surpass the original singer in terms of sound quality, it only shows that your skills are better, and does not necessarily prove that you truly understand what the song is trying to express.

That's a bit mystical, that's the only way Jiang Wang can describe it.

"We've arrived." Tong Yao stopped in front of a two-story building.

The house is small, with dark gray exterior walls and a row of succulents on the windowsill. The first floor is the living room, which also serves as the studio. A drum set is placed in the center, an electronic keyboard is set up in the corner, and an acoustic guitar and an electric guitar are leaning against the wall. Several pages of handwritten sheet music are scattered on the floor, with messy handwriting.

The equipment is complete; you can tell they're into music.

"There are two bedrooms on the second floor. One of them is unused and covered in dust. We'll clean it up in a bit, and you can stay there. Jiang Xin and I will share a room." Tong Yao said this after taking off her shoes and walking barefoot on the wooden floor. She walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. The afternoon sun rushed in, making the tiny dust particles in the air sparkle.

Jiang Wang looked around without saying a word, while Jiang Xin had already sat down on the sofa without any hesitation.

"Sister-in-law," Jiang Xin asked, "did you know my brother and I were coming?"

"I don't know, but it's always good to prepare in advance to avoid being caught off guard."

Jiang Xin seemed to be deep in thought.

really.

My sister-in-law still has feelings for Jiang Wang.

Jiang Wang pretended not to hear, turned his head, and studied the frets of the violin in the corner very seriously, even though he couldn't understand them at all.

"What would you like for dinner?" Tong Yao's voice returned to its usual light and cheerful tone. "I still have some leftovers from yesterday in my fridge."

"Then I'll cook," Jiang Xin volunteered.

She had to give the young couple enough space to spend time together.

Otherwise, with her brother's blockhead, even if his sister-in-law had already taken her, he would still be stuck in his daze.

The living room quieted down, and the clock on the wall ticked rhythmically. Tong Yao sat down on the sofa, while Jiang Wang stood by the window, more than two meters apart.

"Starting tomorrow, I will teach you to play the piano. I know many instruments, and you can learn whichever you like best. If you don't like any of the ones I know, I can help you find a teacher. I've made some friends here."

Tong Yao didn't seem worried at all about whether Jiang Wang could gain the concert hall's approval within a month; she believed in him, as always.

Jiang Wang thought for a moment and said, "At first, I wanted to lead you to escape from the hunting city, and we did it. Later, Jiang Xin fell ill, and I wanted to take her to get treatment, and she recovered."

Now, I want to find a suitable place to live, to have my own little home, and to see Jiangxin settle down.

Is this city a good place to live? Or rather, do you like it?

This is the issue that Jiang Wang cares about most.

No matter how harsh the conditions for staying in this city are, Jiang Wang is confident that he can do it as long as it's worth it.

The only question is, is this really the right place?

"You can go see for yourself." Tong Yao seemed to have anticipated that Jiang Wang would ask this question.

Can a place where music is the sole criterion for evaluation be wonderful?

The answer is definitely no.

But in this era, what place is completely normal?

"And what about you? What do you think?" Jiang Wang persisted.

"I've been here for two years." Tong Yao glanced down at the strings. "If you hadn't come, I'm not sure how much longer I could have stayed."

Can I leave this city at will?

Jiang Wang thought it was impossible.

"Starting tomorrow, you will teach me to play the piano," Jiang Wang said softly.

He will see for himself the distortions of this city.

If Tong Yao ever wants to leave, he will lead them out to fight, just like he did when he left the Hunting City.

But before that, before Tong Yao decides to leave, he will stay here.

"You'll make yourself cry." Tong Yao clenched her fist, as if she had foreseen something, or as if she was savoring something.