Chapter 146: Young Uncle

As if he had sensed something, Di Jiaci, seated among the other contestants, turned around and cast an intentional yet seemingly casual glance at Zheng Lan and the others.

They fell silent at once.

Reputation carried weight. After all, Di Jiaci had once been as famous as Lin Weiyin. Although the piano world refused to acknowledge him, in popular music he was unquestionably one of the greatest.

Even Di Jiaci, however, was deeply moved after witnessing the exchange between Uncle A and Zuo Yongsi.

He could tell that Uncle A’s piano technique had reached a truly transcendent level. Even the Chopin International Piano Competition would have been well within his ability. He was a genuine top-tier competitor.

Across the entire Chinese division, there was probably no one capable of matching him.

Soon, Zuo Yongsi finished playing “Secret Realm.” Having performed with such intensity and surpassed his usual level, his hands trembled slightly when he finally stopped. He rose, bowed to the audience, and was rewarded with a thunderous ovation.

At the same time, Liao Yuan stood and once again exchanged places with Zuo Yongsi.

Amid the enormous applause and wild cheering, Liao Yuan sat down on the piano bench.

He gave himself no time to think. His hands immediately began to dance across the keys, as though lotus flowers were blooming and withering at his fingertips in an endless cycle.

The faster his fingers moved, the faster the flowers grew and faded. Before long, the petals could be seen breaking free of their stems, whirling and dancing through the air before falling at his feet and merging with the earth.

More petals drifted around his body. Their fragrance filled the air, drawing countless butterflies.

People widened their eyes, thinking they were hallucinating.

But was it really an illusion?

Xi Yun stood frozen and speechless, watching the flowers sprout, bloom, and wither. In that instant, she seemed to understand everything.

She rose and, ignoring the complaints and abuse of the spectators beside her, walked woodenly toward the exit.

A flower had once bloomed in my heart for you. At our first meeting, it sprouted; at our second, it danced with joy; when you left, it never looked back.

Liao Yuan noticed nothing beyond the piano. His hands moved faster and faster. “Flower Dance” was another piano piece that had taken the popular-music world by storm. It was also an introductory piece for many piano students. Though it did not reach the heights of “Croatian Rhapsody,” its popularity among ordinary listeners was extraordinary, and it was beloved by countless people.

He had once loved playing this piece. Whenever its melody began, he would think of things that had happened long ago.

Those memories floated before his eyes like smoke in the wind, allowing him to understand more clearly the world—and this body’s entire history before he had come into it.

But soon, Liao Yuan cast those thoughts aside.

“Flower Dance” was not especially difficult. An amateur with a Level Ten certification could generally master it after practicing for two or three weeks. Yet playing it with the intended rhythm, without missing a single note, and filling it with emotion was exceedingly difficult. Thus, most amateur players lowered the difficulty by performing the piece in C major.

In his previous life, Liao Yuan had also played it in C major. But in this life, his fingers were extraordinarily gifted. As long as he held a melody in his heart, his fingertips could play it naturally. The flexibility of these hands had overturned nearly everything Liao Yuan had previously understood. From the very first day, he knew that these hands were worth at least a hundred million.

The applause erupted once more.

Liao Yuan lifted his head and realized that, at some point, the piece had already ended.

Zuo Yongsi walked onto the stage. With his head lowered, he faced the audience and suddenly let out a sigh filled with relief.

Not long afterward, under Zhang Hai’s direction, the votes for the third round were announced once again.

1,117 to 789!

Although Uncle A had still won, Zuo Yongsi’s performance of “Secret Realm” in the final match had clearly earned the audience’s recognition as well.

A bitter smile appeared on Zuo Yongsi’s ashen face.

Pity votes?

I don’t need those!

Liao Yuan walked up to him and said, “Let’s be friends.”

“What?” Zuo Yongsi looked up in astonishment.

“Let’s be friends.” Liao Yuan extended his hand. “Your performance was truly magnificent.”

The tip of Zuo Yongsi’s nose stung, and he nearly burst into tears. He clasped Liao Yuan’s hand and said gratefully, “Thank you.”

Only moments earlier, he had decided to leave the piano world, abandon all his ambitions, and honestly work as a pianist at an opera house. Yet Liao Yuan’s words of affirmation stopped him at the edge of the cliff and restored his confidence.

The gratitude of a man reborn from death made his eyes slightly moist.

…

Toward evening, after watching the entire day’s competition, Liao Yuan and Fu Xiaoci finally left the East Sea Old Stadium together at the very end.

The moment he sat in the passenger seat, Liao Yuan’s phone vibrated twice.

A text message had arrived.

“I don’t want to ask you to stay, because I have no right to. I’m a person who feels inferior to the very marrow of my bones. Please forgive me.”

Sender: Xi Yun.

Liao Yuan silently read every word of the message. Something seemed to stir in his heart, but it soon settled back into calm.

Yet another person in his mind began roaring furiously, making him struggle to control his hands as he wanted to reply.

Smack!

A sharp sound rang out. Fu Xiaoci stared at Liao Yuan in astonishment.

“What’s wrong with you? Why did you just hit yourself?”

Liao Yuan shook his reddened hand and smiled. “Nothing.”

Then, deep inside, he said silently to that other person:

The moment someone shows you the slightest bit of attention, you open your heart to them?

You call that honesty?

It’s loneliness!

The pounding in his chest gradually eased, and Liao Yuan let out a relieved breath. But his phone rang again.

He lowered his head and saw that it was an unfamiliar number. He answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Is this Liao Yuan?” A strange man’s voice came through the phone. “It’s your maternal uncle!”

His maternal uncle?

Liao Yuan froze. Then, a clear image swiftly surfaced in his mind.

His uncle, who also loved wearing suits, had given him a large red envelope every New Year after he started high school. The amount inside was always 66,666. As his uncle liked to say, the number represented smooth sailing in every respect.

But the sum was simply too large. His mother sealed the money away every year, claiming that she was merely saving it for him so that he could use it to marry a wife someday.

After all these years, Liao Yuan had accumulated at least several hundred thousand in New Year’s money.

But after he entered university, he stopped returning home for the holidays, so he rarely had the chance to see his uncle. The last time he had seen him was during his second year of university.

By now, they had probably gone three years without contact.

“You brat, have you had enough fun out there? When are you planning to come home?” his uncle asked with a laugh. “Your parents stopped being angry a long time ago. It isn’t right to keep dragging this out. Even if a tree wishes to be still, the wind will not cease. Your parents don’t expect you to accomplish anything extraordinary. As long as you’re safe and sound, they’ll be satisfied.”