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When Jiang Cheng joined Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang in The White Zombie, he wouldn’t quite say they were two sheets to the wind, but they’d definitely started without him. “A-Cheng, A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian shouted. As Jiang Cheng joined them at the table, he wondered how a human could hear anything over the noise from the stage. “A-Cheng, we found the pirate radio station.”
Before answering, Jiang Cheng nodded at Nie Huaisang, who raised his cocktail in reply. Wei Wuxian glared as if affronted for being ignored. “The what?” Jiang Cheng finally asked.
“Pirate radio station,” Wei Wuxian replied. “You know, very clandestine, broadcast frequency changing each night.”
At Jiang Cheng’s blank stare, Nie Huaisang jumped in. “It’s a station that operates with out a license. You generally hear about it via word of mouth, but, if you’re lucky, you can catch it by scanning stations.”
“You’ve heard if it, right?” Wei Wuxian asked.
“No.”
“Tsk, you’re so busy with your dance studio, you never have any fun. Do you want to know what the best part is, what kind of music they play? It’s a scream!”
“Pretty sure I don’t,” Jiang Cheng replied as glanced towards the stage where a half-dozen humans were led by a singer with a multi-colored Mohawk who seemed to be screaming rather than singing.
“It plays big band music. I mean, why bother. Who even listens to big band other than old coots and, oh yeah, you. My little grandpa of a baby brother.”
“Hey,” Nie Huaisang chimed in, “big band doesn’t.” He paused, “Well, it doesn’t completely suck.”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Like either of you have any taste in music.” He was secretly convinced big band music had been invented by fae. There was no way a human had created something that sounded so good.
Nie Huaisang leaned forward, staring at Jiang Cheng with an intent gaze. “The station switches around, but we found it earlier tonight on 88.3 FM. It might still be playing.”
“Ah,” Wei Wuxian interrupted. “No way my baby brother would abandon us. He just got here.”
Jiang Cheng scoffed. He would have happily abandoned them. He knew he shouldn’t have let Wei Wuxian pick the bar. However, he also knew that if he left now he’d have to endure weeks of teasing. Not that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t find something else to tease him about. He grabbed Wei Wuxian’s beer and took a swig over his brother’s outraged shout.
But the talk of the pirate station had gotten him curious. Over the next few weeks, as he was leading dance classes, he couldn’t get the station that played big band music out of his mind. There were a couple of jazz stations that had big band segments, and a local college station that had a big band show over the summer, but this seemed different. Did the pirate station really play nothing but big band?
He started wondering when he had stopped listening to and enjoying music. Had it been one too many holiday dance routines set to “Last Christmas”? He asked a few of his students but got blank stares when he mentioned big band. He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian. He knew he’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he started scanning radio stations late at night. As the days turned into weeks, he wondered if it had been a prank, but he kept searching.
A few weeks later, the Friday after Christmas, he found it, a station playing big band. Even though he hadn’t listened to the radio in ages, and this could be a legit station, he knew he’d found the pirate station. Flopping down on his bed, he lay back, listened, and enjoyed.
After a few songs, he heard the voice. “And that was Take the ‘A’ Train by the incomparable Duke Ellington. Jiang Cheng sat up. That voice. Human voices tended to sound rough, fae voices more natural like a whisper of wind or the babbling of a brook. This voice, while obviously human, sounded smooth, like a fine, aged whiskey. He wanted to hear more. “This is Baxia, and I’ll be your host for the evening, keeping the swing era going until the wee hours.”
As if finding it once was a key that unlocked a secret door, Jiang Cheng found the station the next two nights running. On that third night, instead of laying back and relaxing, he stood and started swaying to the music. Immediately, he knew he had to find the station.
He swore up a storm for the ten minutes it took him to find his Seven League Boots. As soon as he hit the street, before the door finished shutting behind him, he said “Take me there.”
Jiang Cheng hadn’t thought about where a pirate station might broadcast from, but he hadn’t expected a row of dark buildings, a few of which looked abandoned. He knew human ears would miss the music coming from the closest building, but he could hear it clearly.
When he stepped inside, he found himself in an empty warehouse. He didn’t immediately go looking for the DJ. The space called to him. He took a side step, then another, and then an underarm turn. As he swung into a dance, the walls started glowing, a pale glow that illuminated the room. Water flowed below his feet. He splashed a bit with a foot move before gliding across the water as if skating over ice.
This went on for a few songs before he heard “What the fuck?”
Jiang Cheng saw a bear of a man, broad shoulders, and a face that seemed open and honest but shocked.
Although the water receded, the blue light remained, allowing him to see and be seen. “Jiang Cheng,” he said as he bowed.
The man stared, not moving for a few moments, and then, “Oh, uh, Nie Mingjue.”
Jiang Cheng held out one hand. “Dance?” He tried to look poised but inside he was screaming “Oh please, oh please, oh please.”
Nie Mingjue smiled. “Oh,” Jiang Cheng gasped. And then Nie Mingjue was in his arms. Jiang Cheng led him through beginner steps. He could tell Nie Mingjue hadn’t danced often, if at all, but the man was a quick study. As the song ended, they both stopped and stared into each others eyes in a moment that lingered.
Then Nie Mingjue’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Dead air.” He bolted through a door, calling back, “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”
Jiang Cheng tilted his head, considering, and then followed.