431: Chapter 431 Is what's borrowed ultimately not truly yours?

As the voice fell, the five gazes in the room shifted simultaneously.

The reading glasses in Yan Zhenming's hand stopped in mid-air, the temples dangling precariously from his fingertips.

Liang Qiu's hand holding the teacup froze. Zhao Xingzhou and Meng Linchuan exchanged a look before turning their eyes toward Elder Ye.

Old Mrs. Shen's gaze lingered on Lin Que's face for an extra two seconds.

The champion of Fu Zhi Yao Competition.

Zhao Xingzhou's motion of setting down his teacup stopped halfway.

Meng Linchuan closed the score sheet, and the look in his eyes as he raised his head to look at Elder Ye was different.

The weight of those words was crystal clear to everyone present.

The Century Auditorium of Tsinghua and Peking, awards presented by three ministries on the same stage, and dominating the trending searches for three days.

That competition had caused such a stir that even across different circles, it was hard not to have heard of it.

Elder Ye suddenly turned his head to look at Yan Zhenming.

“Zhenming, you should have attended the award ceremony for Fu Zhi Yao Competition as well, right?”

Yan Zhenming was pulled back by these words.

He finally settled his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowing suddenly.

He indeed had gone.

At the time, it was a joint invitation from the Writers Association and Tsinghua and Peking. He had sat in the fourth row of the guest section, originally intending to just go through the motions.

But that day, after a youth in a school uniform took the stage, his posture while holding the microphone wasn't like a student's, but rather like a veteran's.

He couldn't remember the exact words of the speech, but he remembered putting down his phone and listening seriously until the end.

Yan Zhenming pulled his gaze out of his memories and let it fall on the young face before him.

The features matched. The voice matched.

That steady composure, which didn't belong to this age, also matched.

Yan Zhenming gave a sudden laugh and took a half-step forward of his own accord.

“I thought the voice sounded familiar back at the venue; it really is Student Lin.”

His tone shifted from polite formality to genuine sincerity.

“Those words at the award ceremony left a deep impression on me.

I was sitting in the third row of the guest section when you said that the victory of literature doesn't lie in scores, but in whether one has the courage to draw their sword before the highest peak.”

He paused for a beat.

“Several of the old gentlemen present fell silent for a long time after hearing that.”

Lin Que didn't use the opportunity to flatter himself, only bowing slightly.

“Dean Yan, Teacher Liang, it was brash of this junior to interject at the venue earlier.

You two were discussing professional judgments; I was listening from the side and couldn't help but say a word too many.”

Liang Qiu originally had half a smile on his face.

Anyone in the circle could tell that it was the prelude to a 'do you even understand the piano' type of joke.

But Lin Que had established his boundaries first, which instead made him pull back his smile.

He picked up his teacup and sized up Lin Que once more.

“It wasn't brash. On the contrary, what you said later allowed Xiao Xi to play it as evidence.”

Yan Zhenming took over the conversation, his tone carrying a touch more seriousness:

“To have such insight at such a young age is truly not easy.

Many students in the conservatory study the piano for over a decade and still might not understand the relationship between feeling and technique.”

Old Mrs. Shen did not immediately chime in.

She slowly sat back in her chair, her posture unhurried,

her fingers resting on the rim of the teacup as her gaze traveled back and forth between Ye Xi and Lin Que.

“Big Brother Ye, what's the deal with Xiao Xi's friend?”

She asked with a smile, her tone gentle yet carrying the directness that only close elders would have.

“I remember that Xiao Xi usually doesn't bring friends to meet her elders so easily.”

The atmosphere in the room tightened slightly.

The tips of Ye Xi's ears turned red instantly.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something sharp to shut down the topic.

In the end, she picked up the competition manual on the table and flipped a page,

her eyes staring at the words, but not a single one registered.

Elder Ye, as if watching a spectacle, kept his hands behind his back, a smile hidden at the corners of his mouth.

“It's a long story; there will be a chance to explain slowly in the future. For tonight, let's just get acquainted.”

This sentence left room for interpretation while steadily pushing the question aside.

Without defining or denying anything, the sense of propriety was handled perfectly. Ye Xi stole a glance at her grandfather.

Lin Que stood where he was, his expression steady.

Old Mrs. Shen looked at him for a few seconds and didn't press further about Ye Xi.

She picked up her teacup, took a shallow sip, and brought the conversation back to the main topic.

“Student Lin, since you could hear that 'breath' in Xiao Xi's playing...”

She set down the teacup, her voice still gentle, but the sharpness underneath tightened like a piano string.

“Then tell me, why did I say that the place she considered an 'unclean breath' was actually the best part of the whole performance?”

This was a heavy question.

It wasn't small talk; it was an examination.

The gazes of Yan Zhenming and Liang Qiu fell on him simultaneously.

Zhao Xingzhou set down his teacup, and Meng Linchuan closed his scoring sheet.

Five people were waiting for a young writer to answer a core question about musical expression.

Ye Xi gripped the hem of her skirt tightly.

Lin Que fell silent for two seconds.

He didn't touch upon any musical terminology.

“If that part were handled too cleanly, the entire emotional arc would seem like a pre-rehearsed breakdown.”

He spoke slowly, each word coming out with deliberate rhythm.

“She left a bit of stagnation there, like a lump in someone's throat while speaking.

When it pushes upward afterward, the audience will believe she was truly struggling.”

The teacup in Liang Qiu's hand stopped in mid-air.

Yan Zhenming's eyes lit up, and his entire posture straightened visibly by an inch.

Old Mrs. Shen's gaze shifted from gentle to serious.

“Continue.”

“That wasn't a mistake; it was a crack.”

Lin Que looked at Old Mrs. Shen.

“What shone through that crack is precisely what changed her from 'performing Rach 3' into 'speaking through Rach 3'.”

The room was silent for three seconds. In those three seconds, only the low hum of the air conditioning could be heard.

Old Mrs. Shen suddenly smiled.

The smile spread from the corners of her mouth to her eyes, carrying a heavy sense of gratification.

“This child is deconstructing music through the lens of writing.”

She looked at Elder Ye and shook her head with emotion.

“And he actually got it right.”

Her smile faded slightly as her gaze fell back onto Lin Que's face.

“Then where do you think that sunken weight in Xiao Xi's piano music tonight came from?”

This question was even harder than the last.

Zhao Xingzhou and Meng Linchuan also set down what they were holding.

This question went straight to the source of expression; answering too shallowly would seem like flattery, while answering too deeply could easily offend Ye Xi.

Lin Que first turned his head and looked at Ye Xi.

Ye Xi's fingers were gripping the hem of her skirt.

She didn't look away, nor did she nod.

She just looked back at him quietly, with no resistance in her eyes.

Lin Que withdrew his gaze.

“Part of it comes from herself.”

His voice wasn't loud, and his tone was as calm as if he were stating a fact.

“When someone who has been suppressed by rules for a long time truly wants to break free, their explosive power will be stronger than someone who has always been free.

Because she knows how heavy that lock is, the moment it's smashed open will have real weight.”

Yan Zhenming's finger tapped lightly on the armrest.

“And another part comes from the stories she has read and absorbed.”

Lin Que's speaking pace slowed down.

“Even when a person hasn't personally experienced suffering, they can still draw close to the fates of others through literature.

As long as she truly believes in those fates, her fingers will remember them for her.”

When Ye Xi heard the words “stories she has read and absorbed,” her fingers curled unconsciously.

The passages about Sun Shaoping in the mines—her fingers had been stiff when she read them.

She had always thought it was just because the immersion was too strong.

Until tonight, while sitting on the piano bench, those things surged out on their own.

Old Mrs. Shen's gaze became extremely deep.

She didn't respond immediately but picked up her teacup and took a slow sip.

When she set the cup down, the porcelain hit the saucer with a soft click that seemed deliberately suppressed.

“You say this is borrowing the fates of others to thicken the sound of her own piano.”

Old Mrs. Shen's voice slowed down, every word carrying genuine consideration.

“Then wouldn't there be a problem?”

“Borrowed things, after all, are not one's own?”

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