Chapter Fourteen: Brother and Sister

The moment he thought of composing, Liao Yuan’s mind sprang instantly to life. In his previous life, he had been a singer, and composing was undoubtedly his forte. Yet even the most skilled cook cannot prepare a meal without ingredients, and the absence of any instruments at hand slightly dulled his creative urge.

Still, this hardly troubled Liao Yuan. Remembering something, he rose and walked to his sister Liao Meiqi’s bedroom.

In the neatly arranged room, beside a stack of folded bedding, a ukulele lay quietly.

It was a miniature guitar, but unlike the guitar’s six strings, the ukulele had only four.

“This will do for now,” he thought. “Once I get my paycheck next month, I’ll buy a guitar. Or maybe, when I start earning royalties, I’ll buy a piano—wouldn’t that be even better?”

He recalled that most of the popular videos on the music section were piano performances, with other instruments drawing noticeably less attention. Perhaps the audience in this world harbored a particular devotion to piano music.

He didn’t dwell on it. Lowering his head, he began tuning the ukulele.

His fingertips brushed the strings, idly strumming a few chords, listening intently to each note. Then, adjusting the tuning pegs, he refined the sound according to the tonal differences.

Moments later, he was done.

Placing his left hand on the neck to form chords, his right hand tapped the body in rhythm, and he began to play.

It was early summer; outside, cicadas had already begun to sing.

The end of May brought gentle, pristine days.

With a muffled thud, Liao Yuan struck the first chord.

A breeze drifted through the window, sunlight slanting onto his brow, as if the wind itself brushed his lashes.

He closed his eyes, and melodies started to bloom in his mind.

For that instant, he seemed to forget himself.

Though the ukulele, Hawaii’s most beloved instrument, was renowned for its brightness and exuberance, the notes flowing from Liao Yuan’s hands seemed tinged with a soulful lament. The clamor of the world faded, as if everything noisy in the air had fallen silent.

There was no sound left in the world but this.

The music was like wind, like mist, as if it traveled eighty thousand miles in a heartbeat.

A rare look of contentment appeared on Liao Yuan’s face.

This piece had been written by a Canadian vagrant named Ryan in his previous life—a song called “The Beginning.”

Rumor had it Ryan had graduated from the Royal Conservatory of Music in Canada and once served as a professor at its School of Music Performance. One day, performing an original composition on the street, he was filmed by a passerby and became a worldwide sensation.

At three or four, Ryan was placed in foster care by social workers. At eight, he happened upon a piano in a basement and became enthralled. At twenty-six, he had a daughter, but fate was unkind: when she was nine, both she and his wife died in a car accident. Broken by grief, he abandoned his career and lifelong studies, and began to wander the streets.

Liao Yuan had not intended to play this piece, but with a mind free of distraction, the melody emerged of its own accord.

The world is noisy, but some choose solitude.

Perhaps, at that time, Ryan’s heart was much like his own…

One comes into this world alone, and leaves it alone.

A bitter smile touched Liao Yuan’s lips. Just as he was about to switch to another piece, he looked up to see a girl with large eyes, dressed in a white T-shirt and dragging a suitcase, staring at him in disbelief.

“Bro… Bro, you… you’re actually… actually playing music?”

Liao Meiqi could hardly trust her eyes, but there it was. She rubbed at them, and in the next instant, tears welled up and blurred her vision.

No one knew how moved Liao Meiqi was at this moment.

For as long as she could remember, she had always admired her older brother the most. Their parents’ careers had imbued the Liao household with an artistic atmosphere, and growing up in such an environment, both siblings achieved remarkable musical prowess compared to ordinary people.

Liao Meiqi herself, though a high school dropout, was proficient in guitar, piano, and erhu, and handled percussion, guzheng, and the hulusi with equal ease.

The root of all this skill was her brother’s teaching.

To her, the phrase “an elder brother is like a father” was no exaggeration—her brother was the very embodiment of those words.

It was clear, then, that Liao Yuan was equally accomplished in all manner of instruments, having earned numerous amateur top-level certificates during high school—enough to prove his excellence.

His future had once been bright, yet in college he had chosen to major in broadcasting on a whim…

And from that point on, he never touched another instrument.

Liao Meiqi vaguely sensed her brother had suffered a heartbreak. At the time, she had just started middle school, and having read countless romance novels and watched endless melodramas, she was convinced she was a relationship expert. She had tried to comfort him with all sorts of well-worn phrases:

“A real man’s ambitions know no bounds; why worry about not finding a wife?”
“There are plenty of flowers in the world; why cling to just one?”

As a true novice in matters of the heart, her advice only poured oil on the fire, deepening Liao Yuan’s depression.

The boy who once loved carrying his guitar everywhere never touched it again; the one who delighted in playing the black keys of the piano left it gathering dust.

Their parents, faced with this, were at a loss.

At the time, Liao Yuan was in the throes of adolescence—rebellious and unwilling to listen to anyone.

So they simply let him drift.

Until today.

“You’re back,” Liao Yuan said, a little embarrassed under his sister’s gaze. He coughed, set the ukulele aside, and asked, “Where have you been the past few days?”

Liao Meiqi’s eyes followed the ukulele as he moved it. The moment his hand left the instrument, she burst into tears.

“Bro, play some more! What was that piece? It was beautiful—I want to hear it again!”

Liao Yuan was taken aback. Seeing his sister in tears, he flexed his fingers, but ultimately refused.

“All right, that’s enough. You’re a grown girl, always crying—aren’t you ashamed?”

“No, no! I want to hear it!”

Eyes brimming with tears, Liao Meiqi pleaded, “If you play it again, I’ll tell you some good news!”

With no way out, Liao Yuan picked up the ukulele again and played “The Beginning” once more, under his sister’s expectant gaze.

“That was wonderful!” Liao Meiqi murmured, clutching her chest.

Setting the ukulele aside, Liao Yuan adopted a serious tone. “All right, now it’s your turn. Where have you been these past few days?”

The girl’s mood shifted from rain to sunshine. She hastily wiped her tears and said happily, “Bro, I got accepted to a program! I’ll make over three thousand a month, with room and board included!”