168: It's all technique, no emotion.

The noisy slurping in the shop was suddenly cut off.

Sister Yang didn't respond; she didn't even give Ye Xi a second glance.

Her eyes, lined with exquisite eyeliner, were like searchlights, passing right over Ye Xi to fixate on Lin Que's face.

She sized up the youth in the white T-shirt before her,

her gaze pausing on his excessively calm posture.

This face... looked a bit familiar.

It gradually merged with the figure who spoke eloquently in the video Ye Xi had watched repeatedly.

“You are...”

Sister Yang tilted her head slightly, her tone certain.

“The one from Jiangcheng No. 1 High School?”

Lin Que was somewhat surprised.

“That's me.”

Lin Que didn't stand up, nor did he show the slightest hint of panic.

He even picked up the teapot on the table and refilled an empty cup, the stream of water not spilling a single drop.

“I thought you looked familiar.”

Sister Yang stepped inside, her high heels clicking against the floor, a sound that felt particularly jarring in this simple little shop.

She stood by the table, looking down at Lin Que with a scrutinizing tone.

“Xixi has been practicing the piano recently, and she's been playing a speech video on loop on her tablet.

I was wondering why she suddenly got interested in educational lectures; turns out it was you.”

Ye Xi's face instantly turned bright red, the color reaching all the way to her ears.

She suddenly reached out to tug on Sister Yang's sleeve, so anxious she almost jumped up.

“Sister Yang! Don't... don't talk nonsense!”

Being exposed for secretly watching his video right in front of him—this was a total social death scene.

Sister Yang calmly pulled her sleeve back, her gaze falling once more on the two bowls of 'Family Portrait' Pidu Noodles piled high like small mountains.

“Ye Xi.”

Sister Yang's voice turned cold as she addressed her by her full name.

“The tour starts in two months. Do you know how long you'll have to run on the treadmill after this bowl of noodles?

And the sodium content in there—do I need to remind you how swollen your face will be tomorrow?”

Ye Xi lowered her head, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, not daring to make a sound.

After scolding Ye Xi, Sister Yang's fire naturally turned toward Lin Que.

“Student.”

She turned around; although she used a polite form of address, there wasn't much courtesy in her tone.

“I know boys your age like to take girls out to eat and drink, thinking it's romantic.

But Ye Xi is different.”

“Her hands are insured, and her weight management is written into her contract.

Taking her to this kind of... hole-in-the-wall joint to eat such greasy and salty food is ruining her.”

That was quite a heavy accusation to level.

Diners at the surrounding tables stopped their chopsticks, curiously peeking over.

Ye Xi grew anxious and was about to defend him, but Lin Que moved first.

The anticipated awkwardness or excuses from the youth didn't appear at all.

He didn't even stand up.

He reached out to pull over the empty chair beside him, unhurriedly pulled out a tissue, and wiped away non-existent dust from the seat.

“Sister Yang? Standing is tiring, let's sit and talk.”

His movements were so natural it was as if he were the host here and Sister Yang was just a visiting guest.

This calm display of taking charge made the reprimand Sister Yang was about to utter get stuck in her throat.

Sister Yang was stunned for a moment, instinctively glancing at the slightly greasy chair.

She didn't sit, but she didn't continue her verbal assault either.

“Ruining her? Those words are a bit severe.”

Lin Que crumpled the tissue into a ball and tossed it accurately into the trash can by his feet.

He looked up, meeting Sister Yang's gaze directly with a faint, ambiguous smile on his lips.

“As for art, although I don't play the piano, I know a little bit about it.”

“Do you think Beethoven was counting calories on an empty stomach when he wrote the 'Fate Symphony'?

Or was Liszt worried about his face being swollen the next day while playing 'La Campanella'?”

Sister Yang's brow furrowed tightly.

“Don't give me that. It's not the same; those were masters, and the era...”

“Precisely because it's different, she needs this bowl of noodles even more.”

Lin Que interrupted her, his tone steady and unhurried.

“Piano is an art of the fingers, but even more so, it's an art of emotion.

Anger, pathos, passion, despair... these high-intensity emotional outpourings require energy to support them.”

Lin Que pointed at Ye Xi's somewhat pale little face.

“You have her eating boiled chicken breast—that's for feeding rabbits, not artists.

When a person is in a chronic state of low blood sugar and hunger, their bodily instincts are reduced to mere 'survival'.

Where would they have the spare energy to construct a resonance of the soul?”

“In that state, she can't play a 'Rhapsody'.”

Lin Que deliberately emphasized the word 'Rhapsody'.

“At most, it would be a 'Low Blood Sugar Dirge'. Pure technique, pure cold sweat, but absolutely no emotion.”

“You...”

Sister Yang opened her mouth, but for a moment, she couldn't find the words to refute him.

What kind of twisted logic was this?

Since when did carbohydrates have anything to do with the soul of art?

But it sounded... like it actually made some sense?

Lin Que picked up his chopsticks and lightly tapped the rim of the large bowl in front of Ye Xi, producing a crisp 'ding'.

“This bowl isn't carbs; it's happiness. It's the fuel that will allow her to train peacefully for the next two months and blow everyone away at the tour.”

Lin Que looked at Sister Yang, his eyes clear and resolute.

“Compared to a slightly swollen face,

I think the audience would much less prefer to see a machine on stage that might faint at any moment and plays the piano as if completing a chore, right?”

The only sound left in the small shop was the slurping of noodles from the next table.

Sister Yang stared at Lin Que, her expression shifting several times.

She had been in the industry for over a decade; what kind of difficult people hadn't she seen?

But this youth was different.

Sitting in a greasy roadside stall, holding disposable chopsticks,

he spoke neither humbly nor arrogantly, even using... twisted logic that was impossible to refute?

Sister Yang took a deep breath, her gaze falling back on Ye Xi.

The girl was looking at the bowl of noodles expectantly, her throat moving slightly.

The longing in her eyes was intense enough to burn through the bowl.

It was a vivid, even slightly wild vitality.

And this was indeed the thing most lacking in Ye Xi's recent piano playing.

“Sigh—”

Sister Yang finally relented. Though her voice was still stiff, her overbearing aura had mostly dissipated.

She didn't sit down to drink the tea. Instead, she gave Ye Xi an extremely helpless look and coldly dropped a sentence:

“Just this once. Also, you're not allowed to drink the soup!”

This was her final bit of stubbornness and her bottom line.

“Yes, Ma'am! Thank you, Sister Yang! Sister Yang is the most beautiful!”

Ye Xi was instantly revitalized, the gloom on her face swept away.

She grabbed her chopsticks and didn't forget to wink at Lin Que, her eyes screaming 'Awesome'.

Watching this, the strange feeling in Sister Yang's heart intensified.

She wasn't someone easily persuaded.

Rather than being convinced by Lin Que's carb theory,

it was more like she was stunned by the youth's attitude.

A high schooler, facing an adult manager who held all the power, remained poised and even took control of the rhythm of the conversation.

“Fine, fine, eat up. I'll wait for you in the car. I'll give you twenty minutes.”

Sister Yang had no intention of sitting down and turned to leave.

As she reached the door, she paused and looked back deeply at Lin Que.

“Student, your name is Lin Que, right?”

“Yes.”

Lin Que nodded.

Sister Yang nodded back, said nothing more, and pushed the door open to leave...