Now the band has found the fast rock gait, tight enough that the song feels already in motion before the voice arrives.

Cui Jian enters inside that moving band, and the first question is direct: when will you come with me?

The answer cuts back as a hook: he's laughed at for having nothing, and the band doesn't soften around it.

That long oh turns the question into a refrain, less like a private aside now and more like something the whole track can carry.

The words put motion under his feet and beside him in the water, while the beat keeps the same hard forward step.

When he asks whether he'll always be nothing in front of her, the refrain's lack stops sounding like one reply and starts sounding like a condition.

This long repeat leaves the song out in the open: same question, same carried pulse, no easy break from either one.

The voice comes back with waiting and a final demand, so the old longing tightens into something more urgent.

Now he reaches for both hands and says, come with me now; the groove keeps pushing while the address gets physical.

The trembling hands and tears arrive without a sentimental slowdown, which is why the confession feels strained rather than soft.

The older question returns, but after the hands and tears it feels less innocent; the same refrain carries more trouble now.

Here the wording changes: not when will you go with me, but go with me now, repeated until the command becomes the main sound.

After all that steadiness, the late fallaway is stark; the song lets the carried beat start disappearing.