427: Chapter 427 Grandpa...Grandpa?!

The vibration of the final chord rolled beneath the dome for a full ten seconds.

Not a single person moved among the two thousand four hundred seats.

Even breathing seemed to have stopped; the hall was as silent as if the air had been sucked out.

In the center of the stage, Ye Xi's hands remained poised above the keys, her ten fingers trembling slightly.

She gasped for air, her chest heaving violently.

The sweat seeping from her forehead refracted a sliver of fragmented light under the spotlight.

It was as if she had poured her very last breath into the piano keys.

She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths.

At the end of the third breath, she slowly withdrew her hands from above the keys and placed them on her knees.

Then, she stood up.

Lifting her skirt, she walked step by step to the edge of the stage.

She gave a deep bow.

The moment she straightened up, her gaze pierced accurately through the blinding spotlight,

past the blurred faces of the judges' panel, and landed on a seat in the second row on the right side of Section A.

The person in the navy blue suit was looking at her.

Their eyes met for less than a second.

The entire venue erupted.

Applause thundered from all directions at once, so dense that one clap could not be distinguished from the next,

vibrating the air and making eardrums go numb.

The fan section on the third floor was the first to lose control; girls holding glowing support signs jumped up screaming,

their glow sticks tracing dazzling arcs of light in the darkness.

The professional audience section on the second floor followed closely, rising from their seats one after another.

These people, who usually expressed their approval with restrained applause and frequency, were all clapping forcefully now.

A few white-haired professors clapped until their palms were red, muttering something that was completely drowned out by the waves of sound.

On the judges' panel, the screen of Liang Qiu's scoring device had long since gone dark, but he ignored it.

He took off his glasses, holding them by the temples, and opened his mouth several times as if to speak.

He turned his head to look at Yan Zhenming.

Yan Zhenming did not look at him.

This vice president of the Central Conservatory of Music was now leaning back in his chair, hands resting on the armrests.

His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line,

his gaze fixed firmly on Ye Xi as she acknowledged the audience.

"This has already surpassed the realm of technique."

Yan Zhenming finally spoke, his voice so deep it sounded as if it were being hauled up from the bottom of his chest.

"What this child played today reaches the judging dimensions of the adult professional category."

"I know."

Liang Qiu woke the scoring device's screen again.

It was covered in various marks and annotations, with only a few words scribbled on the last line: The greatest form is shapeless.

The host's voice came through the speakers, trying to suppress the fervor of the crowd.

"Thank you to contestant Ye Xi for her wonderful performance. Judges, please cast your scores."

The judges looked at each other.

Yan Zhenming picked up the scoring device, his thumb lingering on the screen for a long time.

The judges in the rows behind him also began to operate their devices one by one.

After finishing their scoring, someone placed their tablet on their knees and let out a long breath.

Their expressions while scoring were each more solemn than the last.

Lin Que sat in his seat, watching Ye Xi bow slightly amidst the applause and gracefully exit through the passage on the left side of the stage, lifting her skirt.

Her back was straight and her pace steady, exactly as they had been when she walked onto the stage.

But Lin Que noticed that the knuckles of her right hand, which was clutching her skirt, were constantly strained.

She was more exhausted than anyone could imagine.

Ye Xi disappeared behind the side curtain.

But what she left on the stage did not follow her.

That heavy aura, which pressed down on the heads of the two thousand four hundred people like a hydraulic jack, remained suspended in the air, motionless.

The tenth contestant took the stage.

A boy in a dark gray tailcoat walked to the piano and sat down.

His competition piece was Ravel's 'Gaspard de la nuit', which was of upper-middle technical difficulty.

But as soon he placed his hands on the keys, the professional judges below could tell.

His hands were shaking.

It was much more severe than a minor nervous tremor.

From his shoulders to his fingertips, his entire arm was so tense that it produced a completely uncontrollable shaking.

He played.

For the first two minutes, he barely managed to maintain the structure.

By the development section in the middle, the first wrong note sounded as if it had been forcibly torn from the strings, jarringly embedded into the melody.

The boy's back stiffened for a moment as he tried to cover up the blemish with the subsequent transition.

A second wrong note followed immediately.

Then a third.

The rhythm of the entire development section fell into complete chaos.

His left and right hands were like two strangers talking to themselves, and the chords were smashed into a mess.

A few sighs came from the judges' area.

Someone put down their tablet and rubbed their temples.

The boy endured another dozen measures on stage before finally stopping.

His hands rose from the keys and hung in the air for three seconds.

Then he stood up, gave a deep bow to the audience, and turned to walk quickly toward the side curtain.

His footsteps were hurried and erratic, as if he were fleeing.

Someone in the back row sighed softly:

"A pity. His foundation isn't bad, but his mentality couldn't hold up."

Liang Qiu put down his pen and glanced down at the scoring column from a moment ago.

The scores in Ye Xi's column were eye-catchingly high on the entire sheet.

"What can be done?" He lowered his voice, his tone a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

"With such a brilliant performance before them, anyone else going up there would tremble."

All twelve contestants had finished their performances.

The lights came back on, the Steinway on stage was pushed to the side by staff, and a small podium was set up in the center.

The host walked onto the stage, holding an envelope with a gold-stamped cover. Her voice held an irrepressible excitement, each word rising in pitch.

"After deliberation by all judges, we will now announce the winners of the Youth Category Finals of this year's Xinghai Cup Piano Competition."

"Third place..."

"Second place..."

After the two names were announced, the applause was polite and warm. But everyone's attention was no longer on these two names.

The host turned to the last page.

She paused for a beat, as if preparing herself mentally.

"The champion of the Youth Category Finals of the 16th Xinghai Cup Piano Competition."

Ye Xi.

"A perfect score."

When those two words rang out from the speakers, the host's own voice was trembling.

"One hundred points. This is the first perfect score record in the Youth Category since the Xinghai Cup was founded sixteen years ago."

It was as if the roof had been blown off the entire concert hall.

Applause, cheers, and whistles blended together, the waves of sound hitting the dome and bouncing back, making eardrums buzz.

The fan section on the third floor had completely lost control; several girls were huddled together, crying.

Ye Xi walked out from behind the side curtain.

She had already changed her clothes.

Her long black performance dress had been replaced by a simple white dress, her bun undone, and her long black hair draped over her shoulders.

Holding the trophy with both hands, she stood before the microphone.

The entire venue fell silent.

Ye Xi glanced down at the words engraved on the trophy, the corners of her mouth twitching.

She looked up.

"Saying this might sound a bit like 'humblebragging'."

Her voice was clear and bright, carrying a touch of relaxation that hadn't been there before she took the stage.

"But for a long time, I truly hated playing the piano.

To what extent?

My social media profile picture used to be a meme of a hammer smashing a piano."

A wave of good-natured laughter came from the audience.

Even the stern old professors on the judges' panel, who had been serious all night, let the corners of their mouths curl up.

Ye Xi waited for the laughter to subside before continuing.

"At that time, I felt the keys were cold, the practice room was a cell, and practicing for eight hours a day was like serving a prison sentence."

"I didn't understand at all why I was being forced to learn something I didn't like. I was very anxious and felt lost about the future."

"Until I met a certain person and read a certain book."

Her speaking pace slowed down.

"That book is called The Miracles of the Namiya General Store."

A low murmur rippled through the audience.

Ye Xi paused, waiting for the noise to gradually die down.

"There's a line in the book that goes something like: 'Write down your troubles, and someone on the other end will always light a lamp for you.'"

I thought it was silly at the time, but I tried it.

I wrote three full pages, all of which said, 'I don't want to practice the piano'."

A few soft chuckles came from the audience, which quickly fell silent again.

"After writing it, I realized that what I hated perhaps wasn't playing the piano, but not knowing why I was playing it."

The hall was so quiet that the airflow from the air conditioning vents could be heard.

"Later, I met that person, and he told me something."

"You've practiced the rules for ten thousand hours, not so they can trap you."

It's to give you the right to one day smash those rules with your own hands."

Her voice grew softer.

"It was from that day..."

"The keys were no longer cold."

Ye Xi's gaze swept over the crowd and landed on the second row of Section A.

Her eyelashes fluttered.

Her gaze lingered on that spot for less than half a second before she withdrew it and looked back at the audience.

"So, if anyone here today has ever felt the same way I did,"

"then go find it. Go find the reason that makes you willing to sit back down on the piano stool of your own accord."

"It might be a book, it might be a person, or it might just be a bowl of noodles with extra-spicy sauce."

As she said the last sentence, the corner of her mouth curled up, as if she were thinking of something only she knew.

"Once you find it, the piano comes alive."

That final sentence caused laughter and applause to crash together throughout the hall.

Ye Xi bowed deeply once more.

As she stood up, Lin Que noticed that her knuckles clutching the base of the trophy had relaxed.

The curve at the corner of her mouth was finally no longer being suppressed.

The award ceremony ended.

The lights came back on, and the audience members in their seats began to stand up one after another.

The sounds of conversation, chairs scraping, and high heels clicking on the floor—all the noises that had been suppressed all night—flooded back at once.

Lin Que waited until most of the audience had dispersed before rising to leave through the side passage of Section A.

The corridors of the Central Concert Hall were paved with light gray marble tiles, with photos of past competition champions hanging on both sides.

The corridor lights had already switched to a pale yellow exit mode.

Most of the dispersing crowd headed for the main entrance; this internal corridor leading to the backstage was so quiet that only the dull thud of soles rubbing against the stone could be heard.

Lin Que walked toward the exit along the corridor with his hands in his pockets.

Before he had walked twenty steps, a door ahead labeled "VIP Lounge" was pushed open from the inside.

Two staff members followed respectfully behind.

"This way, please. I'll lead you there."

"No need."

The old man waved his hand.

"I'll walk by myself. You all go ahead with your work."

The staff members exchanged looks, bowed slightly, and withdrew.

The old man stepped into the corridor alone.

With a head full of silver hair, his back was as straight as a pine tree.

Wearing a gray zhongshan suit, every single button was fastened right up to the top.

The moment he looked up, his gaze happened to collide with Lin Que's as he approached.

Both of them stopped in their tracks at the same time.

There was a distance of about six meters between them.

The corridor lights stretched their shadows long, nearly overlapping on the floor tiles.

The old man spoke first.

"Young man, we meet again."

His voice was steady and carried a hint of a smile, in the exact same tone as that day in the Xidan Bookstore.

Lin Que recognized him.

Gray zhongshan suit, a military bearing.

The old gentleman in the Xidan Bookstore who had been holding the little prince and asking him about the hat and the snake.

The old man had mentioned something then.

"My granddaughter also likes this book; she says it has a synesthetic connection to her art."

Lin Que's gaze inconspicuously swept over the organizer's badge pinned to the collar of the old man's zhongshan suit,

then over the door labeled "VIP Lounge" behind him.

Recalling the entire competition, the old man had remained motionless, except for when Ye Xi played the cadenza, when his body had swayed gently along with it.

Several fragments automatically pieced themselves together in his mind:

the little prince in the Xidan Bookstore,

"granddaughter",

"artistic synesthesia",

and the nearly imperceptible swaying of the old man's body during the cadenza just now.

Lin Que didn't press further, merely nodding with a composed tone.

"It is indeed quite a coincidence."

The old man took two steps closer, his gaze sizing Lin Que up.

"I still remember that sentence you said last time."

The old man's hands were behind his back; his voice wasn't loud, yet every word was clear.

"Fairy tales are used to provide pain relief for adults who have forgotten they were once children."

"You have a good memory, old gentleman."

The old man waved his hand.

"Sigh, when you get old, you can't remember other things, but you remember good words well."

The old man smiled, wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.

The two stood facing each other two steps apart as a set of hurried footsteps approached from behind.

The sound of high heels had been replaced by the pitter-patter of flat white shoes, tapping quickly against the marble.

Before Lin Que had time to turn around,

a white figure rushed out from the corner of the inner passage, reaching them in just a few strides.

Ye Xi hadn't had time to fully tidy her hair; a few stray strands clung to her forehead, and her cheeks were slightly flushed from running all the way.

She came to a halt in front of them, first glancing at Lin Que, then her eyes widened slightly upon seeing the old man beside him.

Then, she called out to the old man in a clear, crisp voice.

"Gra... Grandfather?!"

...