Quick Transmigration: Let Me Tell You, I'm a Social Anxiety Person

"But I've already bought a new pick."

The hand that was outstretched to her remained open. Wen Ying took a step forward and gently touched his fingertip. Like a mimosa that would shrink back when touched, Liang Muqi closed his palm.

“Here you go.” Wen Ying jumped onto the steps in front of him and said in a half-joking tone, “I might become very famous in the future. Keep it safe, it might fetch a high price.”

Liang Muqi curled his five fingers and gently squeezed them together. He followed behind her, the motion-activated light went out, and he said softly, "Okay."

They returned to Wenying's house. The living room lights were on, and the bathroom lights were bright, but the ceiling light in the bedroom was disobedient and broke down on its own.

Turning on the tap, the water still made a dry, gurgling sound. Wen Ying stood to the side, watching Liang Muxi's actions. The latter held the tap and pondered for a while before turning his head and saying, "I don't know how to do this."

Wen Ying's eyes were full of regret. Liang Muxi glanced at her and then looked away, pointing towards her bedroom: "I can change the light, but I'll need a ladder. It's too late now, I'll come over tomorrow to fix it for you."

Wen Ying has started making statements again, saying "You are a good person".

Liang Muxi walked out of the kitchen, and Wen Ying took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and followed her: "I really don't know how to thank you."

She handed the bottle of water to Liang Muxi, who took it, unscrewed the cap, and returned it.

“This is for you.” Wen Ying looked up at him. “I don’t look like the kind of person who can’t even open a bottle cap, do I?”

"I'm sorry." So Liang Muxi withdrew her hand, stood still, tilted her head back and took a sip.

The living room lights were a pure white, even a bit rigid. Liang Muxi's gaze swept over the corner of the white wall, pausing briefly. Wen Ying followed his gaze and saw a guitar standing there.

"Would you like to try playing it?" Wen Ying asked.

She walked over, picked up the guitar, and returned to Liang Muqi's side, but the latter shook his head.

“I don’t know how.” He screwed the cap back on, picked up the water bottle, and added, “It’s too late now.”

“Indeed, the soundproofing here isn’t very good. The family living upstairs from me always argues at night, and I can hear it clearly every time,” Wen Ying replied.

After she finished speaking, she prepared to put the guitar down, but Liang Muxi's eyes remained fixed on it, as if she cared about it.

Wen Ying resumed holding the guitar and moved closer to him.

“Well, you can play it next time, but you can touch it now.” She smiled, as if inviting him to pet a soft little animal. “It might sound unbelievable, but I always feel that musical instruments have a life of their own.”

"Bang bang bang—" The knocking sound came again in the quiet stairwell. This time, the man upstairs had forgotten his keys. The motion-activated light turned on suddenly. A few seconds later, his wife came out and opened the door. The familiar sounds of arguing came from inside.

At the same time, Liang Muqi lowered his eyes, reached out and lightly touched the plywood guitar that Xia Yin always complained was "worthless" and "not worth cherishing."

"Yes," he said, "I can feel my heart beating."

Wen Ying smiled at him.

Perhaps that's just how strange it is between people. They only exchange a few words and meet a handful of times. But after this evening, Wen Ying felt that she had grown closer to her neighbor.

She naturally asked Liang Muxi about her homework: "There are only a few days left before school starts. Have you finished all the tests that the teacher handed out?"

He must have finished writing it. He seems like the kind of person with super strong execution skills. His grades in all subjects are also very good. Writing test papers should be a piece of cake for him, like a human printing press.

Liang Muxi, however, said, "I didn't write it."

Wen Ying thought she had misheard: "Didn't you write it, or didn't you finish writing it?"

Liang Muqi repeated, "It wasn't written."

Why is this completely different from what I expected? Wen Ying looked at his expression, which was very calm, as if he didn't care about the pile of test papers at all. She couldn't help but mutter, "Is this some kind of privilege for good students... Sigh, I'm so jealous."

But it doesn't matter. Liang Muxi isn't the only one in the world with the completely correct answer. Wen Ying thought of Chen Ge. That clever little devil Chen Ge must have a way.

She happily saw Liang Muqi off, and as he reminded her to "remember to have someone check the water pipes and buy a new light," she closed the door, took out her phone, and sent a message to Chen Ge.

The result was a curt reply: "Not written."

Wen Ying was shocked: "Why wasn't it written either? Do you have special privileges too?!"

Chen Ge: "I don't need to do homework in the first place. In the past two years, when have you ever seen me doing homework?"

Wen Ying: "So you were just pretending all day long, carrying around an exam paper in the bar?"

Chen Ge: "You're really smart."

Wen Ying: "Do you have a learning-oriented performance personality?"

Chen Ge: "No, I'm just afraid that Xia Yin and Wang Ziming will team up against me in a doubles match."

Wen Ying: "You broke my heart."

Chen Ge: "I'm sorry to let you know the truth now, you transfer student."

Wen Ying was indignant, picked up his pen, and began to read late into the night.

After finishing two physics papers, Chen Ge sent over the answer key, which he had obtained from the class group chat, consisting of dozens of thumbnails.

Wen Ying praised him, "You really have a great conscience."

Chen Ge: "I thought some people wouldn't need it, you solved the problem for me pretty quickly last time."

“Back then, I was blinded by money.” After replying to this, Wen Ying put her phone down and continued writing her homework.

News about Chen Ge keeps popping up.

"But I'm actually very curious."

"Are you only good at math, or are you hiding your full potential?"

"To be honest, I think it's kind of cool."

"But how long do you plan to stay hidden?"

"Entrance exam, monthly exam, joint exam, or the college entrance exam?"

"When the news of his college entrance exam score surpassing Liang Muxi to become the top scorer spread, everyone at the school was in an uproar."

"How can this not be another form of bombing a school?"

Wen Ying turned the page, freeing her hand to type: "You're already in high school, why are you still thinking about the school exploding?"

Chen Ge: "You don't understand. Some people want to bomb their elementary school when they are in elementary school, bomb their university when they are in college, bomb their company when they are working, and bomb their nursing home when they are old."

Wen Ying ignored Duo Mei's mental state.

In a small group chat of four, Chen Ge angrily denounced Wen Ying for betraying her benefactor. Xia Yin asked with a question mark, inquiring about the specifics of the betrayal. Chen Ge, however, stammered and couldn't give a clear answer, changing the subject.

"By the way, what should we call our band?"

The topic shift was abrupt, and Xia Yin became suspicious. Wang Ziming chimed in, "I don't know. I'm a hopeless illiterate. None of the names I come up with sound good. If you come up with anything interesting, just post it in the group."

When Wen Ying put down her pen, she saw a mountain of messages piled up in the group chat.

The other three eagerly offered their suggestions. Chen Ge suggested "Meteor Garden F4," but Xia Yin thought he was being childish and suggested taking one character from each person's name to create a better combination that would showcase their bond. Wang Ziming repeatedly waved his hand, refusing to say "NO."

He exclaimed in horror, "I have a phobia of real names."

Xia Yin: "Is this why you make them call you David during your performances? Look at that name, does it even sound good?"

Then everyone started talking at once, saying things like "Summer Wind Guide," "Typhoon Signal No. 8 Player," "Pulse Under Ice," and "Freedom to Leave the Office," a variety of words that looked like online names, crowding the screen.

Wen Ying yawned and joined in. They continued their discussion for more than ten minutes without reaching a conclusion. Instead, Wen Ying became increasingly sleepy and could barely keep her eyes open under the incandescent light.

She dragged the chair back to bed, her phone screen still on, her fingers tapping randomly on it. She didn't look closely, thinking, "Anyway, I'll be changing the sheets tomorrow," before collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep.

The next day, Xia Yin sent a notification in the group.

If you remove the last 43 characters of the 47-character string that Wen Ying typed, then "Chronicles of Flying Birds" becomes their new group name.

The remaining two were making a ruckus in the group chat, bombarding everyone with all sorts of emojis to celebrate. Wen Ying watched them closely, feeling that they were letting her win.

By adopting the name she suggested, they announced that Wen Ying no longer needed to be overly polite; they had officially become partners.

We'll walk a long road together in the future.

In the afternoon, the tap in the house started working again, and just to be on the safe side, Wen Ying called a repairman to come and check it.

After finishing her chores, she saw the person out of the house. As she listened to the footsteps going downstairs, she belatedly realized that she had forgotten to ask someone to also check the ceiling light in the bedroom.

Perhaps she could try to fix it herself. With that thought in mind, Wen Ying went downstairs and bought a new light bulb and tools.

She moved a chair over, ready to show off her skills, but Xia Yin called, saying that she had a major business negotiation today and had secured a performance at a grassy music festival for the bar, and asked her to go back and rehearse.

It took four hours for Wen Ying to get home, and it was dark by the time she returned. As she climbed the stairs, she received a message on her phone. Xia had provided several bracelet design samples for them to choose from.

The bracelets are all the same shape, made of ribbon, but the colors and the patterns printed on them that represent the bands are different. Xia Yin said that not only they will be singing this time, but also other underground bands. Since the number of characters that can be printed on the ribbons is limited, it is best to use icons instead of names.

Wen Ying thought for a moment and decided that she had already monopolized the right to name the band, so she would leave the rest to them to decide. She sent an emoji in the group chat and put down her phone.

She heard a sound coming from the steps. She looked down and saw Liang Muqi appear about four or five steps away from her.

"You're back so early today," Wen Ying said, taking out her keys to open the door.

Liang Muqi hummed in agreement, took two steps up the stairs, and stood behind her. "Has that lamp been fixed?"

Wen Ying: "I originally wanted to do it myself, but I didn't have time."

She turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and glanced back.

"wait for me."

Liang Muxi went into the house and came out again soon after, carrying a folding ladder.

Wen Ying was stunned for a moment, recalling what he had said last night, "It's too late," and couldn't help but wonder when Liang Muqi had borrowed the ladder. Was it when he came home during the day? But he seemed very busy. Could he have spared time when he came home during the day?

Besides, it's just helping a neighbor repair a piece of furniture, it's not a big deal, why would he make a trip back?

“The ladder belongs to my grandfather upstairs. I ran into him this morning when I went out, so I just brought it over,” Liang Muxi’s voice rang out.

Wen Ying held onto the door with one hand to prevent the wind from blowing it shut, still somewhat dazed: "Then why didn't you come and knock on my door this morning?"

"It's too early, I'm afraid you're not awake yet," Liang Muqi said.

The ladder was brought inside. Wen Ying closed the door and followed behind him, trying to hold it for him. She asked, "How early?"

Liang Muxi didn't hear her and looked at the pile of tools on the ground: "Have you bought all the materials?"

The tone was calm, yet it inexplicably carried a hint of praise, as if a child had made an ugly dumpling at kindergarten and come home to their parent praising them, saying, "Wow, you did a great job even with something this important!" Wen Ying shook her head, feeling embarrassed, realizing she had been overthinking things.

With someone helping, Wen Ying felt embarrassed to just sit back and wait for things to fall into place. She would occasionally hand Liang Muxi something and say a few words of praise, playing a supporting role.

She thanked him again, but this time it was inappropriate to say anything like "good person." After all, they had quickly become familiar with each other, and saying those empty words would seem a bit hypocritical.

Wen Ying didn't like it much, and she had a feeling that Liang Muqi wouldn't like it either.

“I don’t have any juice to give you this time; all the drinks in the fridge are gone,” Wen Ying said.

"It's okay, I'm not thirsty."

Liang Muqi put the ladder back in place, bent down to pick up the scattered things on the ground, and walked out of the bedroom. Wen Ying happened to turn back and stood in front of him with her guitar in her arms.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" Her hand rested on the neck of the violin, in preparation for tuning it. "It doesn't seem too late today."

Liang Muqi leaned against the door and dusted off his hands: "Okay."

She tuned the strings, tilted her head and thought for a moment, then began to play Kishibe Masaaki's "The Mountain of Miracles".

The newly replaced light bulb was exceptionally bright, shining glaringly on her face. At the one minute and twelve second mark of the melody, Wen Ying lowered her eyelashes.

Her expression was serious, and Liang Muqi listened attentively, his gaze quietly sweeping over her, noticing a small shadow cast on her eyelids, moving back and forth.

The song is a little over four minutes long. Wen Ying only played half of it before stopping and asking, "How was it?"

It was a sentence that came out spontaneously, without any thought. For some reason, as if she had returned to the first stage she had jumped onto, Wen Ying inexplicably wanted to know his inner thoughts at this moment.

“It sounds beautiful,” Liang Muqi said, his eyes also lowered as he looked at the guitar strings, her hand still resting on them, in a finishing pose.

"But didn't you say you were going to sing?" Wen Ying heard him say softly after a pause, sounding genuinely confused.

"Ahem." Wen Ying touched her nose, wanting to say, "Isn't a guitar piece a song?" but the words came out differently and she said, "Next time."

Liang Muqi looked up: "When is the next time?"

They looked at each other, the air flowing quietly. Tonight, the incandescent lights replaced the moon, gently enveloping them. It was still early, and there were no dragging footsteps in the stairwell, nor any shouts from the rooftop.

Wen Ying thought of her phone, the bracelet image waiting to be selected in the message pictures, and the guitar strings made a muffled "thump" sound because of the unconscious touch of her fingers.

She smiled at Liang Muxi: "Anyway, it won't be long. Next time, I'll take you to see my official performance."