新未名空间

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 20:57 He listened intently, lips pressed, a trace of the old capital lingering between his brows. I felt a small shift inside—he must’ve fallen on hard times too, to be sitting here by the riverside, finding comfort in music.

So I switched to a slower tune. I started with The Rainbow Skirt, and let it drift gently into Green Waist. My fingers played softly, and without meaning to, I began thinking of the past.

Back then, I was still called “Little Thirteen,” the most sought-after girl in the music house. The ones who came and went were all trust-fund boys, dressed like they’d never walked a muddy street, speaking in that lazy, playful way. The moment the lanterns lit up and the curtain lifted, many strips of red silk would flutter in, landing quietly on the table.

That was their way of tipping—never with coins, only with tokens. I’d pretend not to notice, wait for the room to clear, then send them to the back to be tallied. The house kept the books. I never asked how much I made. Ask too much, and you're worth less.

Those nights were warm, thick with scent and music. The chatter, the laughter, the way the air moved when the curtain stirred—it all seemed far away now, like the last traces of color in late autumn.

The song ended. Just this lantern now, and the sound of water. A breeze stirred; my fingers felt cold. The guest was still staring at me, caught in something, not speaking.

I waited.

After a moment, he finally smiled and asked for an encore. Said he’d like to write me a poem when he returned.

I lowered my head, adjusted the strings, and smiled just a little.
There would be no tip tonight.

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:32 果然失败了，这帖子放小红书上几乎无人阅读。

wh 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:33 到底写的是啥啊……小十三？十三妹？十三姨？

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 20:57 He listened intently, lips pressed, a trace of the old capital lingering between his brows. I felt a small shift inside—he must’ve fallen on hard times too, to be sitting here by the riverside, finding comfort in music.

So I switched to a slower tune. I started with The Rainbow Skirt, and let it drift gently into Green Waist. My fingers played softly, and without meaning to, I began thinking of the past.

Back then, I was still called “Little Thirteen,” the most sought-after girl in the music house. The ones who came and went were all trust-fund boys, dressed like they’d never walked a muddy street, speaking in that lazy, playful way. The moment the lanterns lit up and the curtain lifted, many strips of red silk would flutter in, landing quietly on the table.

That was their way of tipping—never with coins, only with tokens. I’d pretend not to notice, wait for the room to clear, then send them to the back to be tallied. The house kept the books. I never asked how much I made. Ask too much, and you're worth less.

Those nights were warm, thick with scent and music. The chatter, the laughter, the way the air moved when the curtain stirred—it all seemed far away now, like the last traces of color in late autumn.

The song ended. Just this lantern now, and the sound of water. A breeze stirred; my fingers felt cold. The guest was still staring at me, caught in something, not speaking.

I waited.

After a moment, he finally smiled and asked for an encore. Said he’d like to write me a poem when he returned.

I lowered my head, adjusted the strings, and smiled just a little.
There would be no tip tonight.

wh 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:33 到底写的是啥啊……小十三？十三妹？十三姨？

Feliz 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:37 这好像是个歌妓？

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:42 差不多对啦，我看热度能不能撑到解谜的那一贴。一个月前一个偶然的机会让我读到了一篇别人写的的文章。从哈姆雷特的母后视角写的同人。惊为天人。终于自己也写了篇同人。我看有没有人能猜出来写的什么。

Feliz 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 23:43 那你的意思主角就不是这个音乐者，那会是谁呢？赌场老板？诗人？
这场景让我联想到百年孤独里面的那个酒馆。

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 23:46看私信

Feliz 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 23:56 哦哦哦
回头你得给我好好解释下桌上放红绸是啥意思
还有这计件工资是咋算的
剩下的都非常通顺，有才

Feliz 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:37 这好像是个歌妓？

wdong 写了： 2025年 4月 5日 22:42 差不多对啦，我看热度能不能撑到解谜的那一贴。一个月前一个偶然的机会让我读到了一篇别人写的的文章。从哈姆雷特的母后视角写的同人。惊为天人。终于自己也写了篇同人。我看有没有人能猜出来写的什么。

wh 写了： 2025年 4月 6日 04:44 用中文写更容易猜。英语的能模糊感觉到是中国古代，尤其绿腰舞是唐代。红绸打赏我也不大知道，不过倒是小节；结尾的no tip把我难住了，不明白故事的逻辑……