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

When Liang Muqi left, he originally planned to take the ladder home again and return it to the old man upstairs who walks his bird when he got up the next morning.

Wen Ying thought it was too much trouble for him to move it around, so she said, "What if you don't run into him tomorrow morning? Just leave it here, and I can take the ladder back."

Liang Muxi: "Grandpa's morning exercise time is very regular."

Wen Ying laughed: "Are you worried that I can't carry it? Actually, it's not too bad. I carry the drum set every day during rehearsals with them, and I also run around on the stage, so my physical strength has improved."

Liang Muxi looked at her, seemingly unable to imagine what it would be like for her to be jumping around on stage.

Wen Ying told him that he would know when he saw it for himself, and then saw Liang Muqi out the door.

The door closed, and the room fell silent. Wen Ying stood with her back against the wall for a while, then looked at the guitar standing by the bedroom door.

In fact, a long, long time ago, she, like Liang Muxi, could not imagine what she would look like standing on the stage.

Will Wen Ying, who is usually quiet and reserved, become cheerful one day? Will Wen Ying, who is afraid to go out, integrate into society and laugh heartily with people she knows? This is obviously hard to believe.

But this change did actually happen, and it seemed more like a predictable turn of events than a sudden one.

Sometimes she wonders, in all the worlds she has been to, is the protagonist the one who truly finds salvation, or is it herself who descended into that world?

The next day at noon, Wen Ying returned the ladder.

The birdcage hung by the window. As expected, Grandpa didn't go downstairs for a walk. It was a cloudy day, and his knees were a little sore. He was lying in a rocking chair, fanning himself with a palm leaf fan.

Wen Ying put her things away and came out. Her grandfather pointed to the kitchen and told her to go get the watermelon herself.

Wen Ying felt a little embarrassed to eat and take things, but the myna bird in the cage made noises and called out enthusiastically, so she went to the kitchen, cut some, put them on a small plate, and brought them over.

The myna tilted its head and looked at her, its tiny eyes rolling around. Wen Ying teased it with her finger. Because the band had a name related to birds, she was particularly interested in birds.

Although it is a bird kept in a cage.

Grandpa generously said, "If you like it, you can have it. Take it home and raise it."

Wen Ying quickly waved her hand: "I'm just looking. I can't take good care of small animals."

Wen Ying ate watermelon while her grandfather chatted with her. He seemed to have been without anyone to talk to for a long time, and upon seeing Wen Ying, he couldn't help but start talking.

"You look young, are you still in school?"

"I'll be a senior in high school when school starts."

"Xiao Liang will be a senior in high school soon, will you go to the same school?"

"We were in the same school and classmates."

"Oh." Grandpa nodded and smiled. "You're returning what he borrowed? You two must be very close, right?"

Wen Ying searched the ground for a trash can to put the melon rinds in: "It's great, Liang Muqi helped me a lot."

Mentioning Liang Muxi naturally led to the conversation. Honestly, Wen Ying had no intention of prying into Liang Muxi's private life from others, but her grandfather kept rambling on and on, and she grew curious.

“When he was in elementary school, his parents were busy with work and often left him with us. My wife was still alive then, and she was a good cook, so she would cook different dishes for him every day…”

Liang Muxi used to be a picky eater.

When eating eggs, the egg white and yolk should be completely integrated, such as in the form of steamed egg custard or scrambled eggs. If the yellow in a scrambled egg is mixed with a trace of white, then it is not a pure scrambled egg dish.

He doesn't eat root vegetables, nor can he accept meats with strong smells; chicken can't have a chicken smell, and mutton can't be too gamey.

I do really enjoy eating fish.

"However, he's not so picky now," Grandpa said, sighing with a touch of emotion. "He's grown up."

Children, urged to grow up by time, accept the rules and regulations of life and voluntarily give up the right to refuse and dislike.

Wen Ying paused for a moment, then heard the myna bird repeat "grown up" in her ear. Looking to her side, she saw a nostalgic expression on her grandfather's face.

"But it's good that he's grown up; he's made friends."

That afternoon, she heard many more things about Liang Muxi, all stemming from her reply that they had a "good relationship." It was as if the more she talked, the more she understood, and the more precious their friendship would become.

As she finished tidying up the trash and put it away, her grandfather waved to her, telling her to come over for watermelon sometime.

The Grassland Music Festival was two days before the start of the school term, and Wen Ying got a bracelet from Xia Yin that represented a ticket.

She knocked on Liang Muxi's door at night, but no one answered, and the same thing happened twice.

Wen Ying originally planned to slip the bracelet through the crack in the door, just like she had done with the money before, but after thinking about it, she gave up.

This was the first time she had invited someone to listen to her sing, a ritualistic agreement, and the bracelet was given in person to make it more meaningful.

So she set her alarm for 6 a.m., but before going to bed, feeling uneasy, she changed it to 5 a.m. She got up yawning and waking up to the sound of the alarm ringing and vibrating, and went to open the door with her eyes still closed.

Liang Muqi was indeed outside.

Upon seeing her, he seemed to pause for a moment, and his action of closing the door also stopped.

Wen Ying struggled to open her eyes: "Getting up so early, how many hours do you actually sleep each day? Don't you get sleepy?"

"It's alright." Liang Muqi turned around and looked at her. Wen Ying was leaning against the door frame, looking lazy and boneless, clearly not fully awake.

“You got up very early today too,” Liang Muxi said.

"Yes, so I could run into you."

Wen Ying scratched her hair. She knew without a doubt that her hairstyle was a complete mess, her coat was just thrown on, and she hadn't even washed her face.

She seemed to have gotten used to giving up on maintaining an image in front of Liang Muxi, as long as she could breathe.

After saying that, Liang Muxi remained silent, her expression calm, lost in thought.

Could it be that he was bothered by her offhand joke? Wen Ying broke the silence: "Actually, I came here to give you this, the music festival tickets. I was going to give them to you yesterday, but I didn't run into you last night, so I was thinking of seeing you this morning."

She handed him the bracelet: "Your departure times are quite regular, more regular than that of the old man upstairs."

Liang Muqi took it and looked down at the pattern on it: "Which one is you?"

Wen Ying pointed to it and said, "This is a band I formed with my friends, Chen Ge is in it too. We're called Flying Bird Chronicles, isn't it pretty good?"

The logo is silver, depicting a bird whose body is half-fixed in a cage and the other half breaking free of its confinement, spreading its wings wide with all its might, about to fly into the free sky.

Liang Muxi looked at it very carefully.

"The performance is at 8 p.m. on the grass in Moon Bay Park, which is very close to the 'Summer Drink' bar and not far from where you work part-time," Wen Ying said from the side. "Our band is the third to go on stage. If you are still at work at that time and can't make it, it's okay. The bar is the organizer, and we have another show as the headliner."

Liang Muqi put the bracelet away: "I will go."

His tone was so sincere, as if this were an agreement that had to be fulfilled.

Wen Ying yawned: "I've finished explaining all the precautions, so I'm going back to catch up on my sleep."

"Okay." Liang Muqi nodded, walked down two steps, and heard the sound of a door hinge turning behind him. He turned around and said, "See you then."

"See you then." Wen Ying waved.

-

On the 30th, after Wen Ying finished all her homework, Wang Ziming drove to pick her up, taking her and her instruments in two separate trips to the venue at Moon Bay Park.

The stage has been set up. It's not very big, but it's not too small either. Two pillars have been erected on either side, with LED light boards bearing the names of the various bands hanging on them.

Pink, yellow, red, and blue—they look a bit tacky, yet they're exceptionally eye-catching and dazzling.

There were about three hundred seats in the audience. Some of the seats were brought from the bar, and some were brought by Wang Ziming from the tutoring center. Wang Ziming tried sitting in the first row and joked that he could listen to music and do his homework at the same time.

Xia Yin said, "Chen Ge brought the test papers. There's also a table here, which is just right for him."

Chen Ge refused.

Xia Yin pressed him down to sit: "There are already audience members here. You can put on an act here and create an image of someone who loves learning. These days, isn't intellectual homosexuality popular? With you here, we'll definitely gain a lot of fans."

Chen Ge reluctantly took out the test paper from his pocket. Wen Ying, who was nearby, saw that it was the same test paper he had taken out in the bar last time, the one covered in scribbles.

However, Xia Yin was unaware of this; she was still in the dark, remarking that "the child is becoming more and more sensible," before going off to attend to her own affairs.

Among the waiting audience were many fans of Flying Bird Chronicles. On the outer side of the enclosure, some people took photos and called out Chen Ge's name, while the latter lowered his head, frowned, and continued to scribble.

The fan taking photos whispered, "Chen Ge is so aloof, he never responds when I call him."

Another companion said, "He might be a repressed pervert. Never mind, I have someone else who sings well." He patted the person next to him on the shoulder, "Hey, hey, stop taking pictures of him, let's go find Wen Ying for a photo."

As darkness fell, the audience put on their wristbands under the magnolia tree at the entrance and took their seats.

The tickets are actually free; the wristbands are for tracking the number of people and helping to maintain order.

However, they had clearly miscalculated that day. More and more people arrived, exceeding their expectations. The remaining people, without wristbands or seats, stood silently on the periphery, waiting for the event to begin.

Wang Ziming poked half his head out from behind the stage and exclaimed, "When did we get so many fans? Some even brought light boards and banners!"

"Do you never look at Weibo?" Xia Yin asked from the side.

"Weibo?" Wang Ziming recalled for a moment, "It seems like there is such a thing, but I haven't posted anything."

“I’m not talking about your personal account, I’m talking about ours—Flying Bird Chronicles, the official public account.” Xia Yin took out his phone to show him. “I’m the one who updates this account. Ever since you went to the hospital and Wen Ying joined us, the number of likes has suddenly started to increase.”

The lights came on, and a thunderous applause followed. The band that took the stage began to sing.

Wang Ziming looked at the screen and heard Xia Yin slowly say, "It's not like we can't survive without Jiangxia. Look, the birds are slowly spreading their wings."

The atmosphere was incredibly lively. Even though it had just rained a little that morning, the air was now filled with a restless energy. The evening breeze brushed against the sweltering sweat as the members of Asuka Chronicles finally jumped onto the stage.

Below, fans were shouting, calling out the members' names in an orderly fashion. For a moment, it was hard to tell whether it was an obscure lawn concert or a performance stage for some idol.

They called out Wen Ying, Xia Yin, Chen Ge, and when they got to Wang Ziming, Wang Ziming knelt down on the stage, covered his face, his ears turned red, and said in a weak voice, "Don't do this! I really have a phobia of real names!"

The people in the audience laughed louder and shouted even louder.

Wen Ying smiled, holding the microphone and bending slightly forward: "Hello everyone, we are—The Chronicles of Flying Birds!"

Without pause, the music began to play.

Wen Ying sang two songs in a row, "Flashing Memories" and "Viva La Vida". Before the last song, she took a sip of water and sang her own composition, "To Be a Bird That Is Not Trapped in a Cubicle", which is now quite famous, amidst the cheers of her fans.

This time, some audience members sang along, so Wen Ying simply held the microphone up to them and sat on the edge of the stage, playing the guitar and keeping the rhythm.

After the Bird Chronicles, other bands performed. After they came off stage, Wen Ying and her group sat in the audience. People asked for photos, snacks and notes, and someone asked for their autograph, which was signed on a plain white T-shirt.

After completing all that, it felt like we hadn't had much time to rest before the time was up. The last band bowed in thanks, walked off the stage, and were then pushed back up.

This time, the audience requested songs, but the voices were all over the place and couldn't be distinguished, so Wen Ying had to resort to raising hands like in a classroom and calling on people to choose.

She sang a popular song and then performed the unplugged version of "Bird in the Grid" again. Some fans shouted loudly, yelling, "You guys don't have enough original songs! It's not enough to listen to! You're punished by having to go back and write a hundred!"

Wen Ying picked up the microphone: "It's my responsibility that I didn't satisfy the audience. I'll start writing tonight when I get home."

Xia Yin jokingly added from the side, "Please understand! There are two high school students here waiting for their entrance exams. Let them finish their exams before they write this."

The audience laughed, and Wen Ying laughed too, maintaining her microphone-holding posture, her gaze slowly sweeping across the crowd.

There were so many people sitting in front of her, and people kept talking and shouting, "Don't end it, play one more song!" Wen Ying put down her guitar, stood with a few others, and bowed to the audience.

The performance came to an end, and they agreed to meet again next time.

But Liang Muxi never came.