Chapter Forty-One: This Humble Abode

For two consecutive days, Liao Yuan was engaged in detailed discussions with Dong Ling regarding the signing of the contract. The intention of Tang Dynasty Publishing House was to launch a satellite into the contemporary literary world, letting all authors and readers know that the author of “Ghost Blows Out the Light” would be signing with Tang Dynasty at an unprecedented royalty rate.

But Liao Yuan gently declined. The creation of “Ghost Blows Out the Light” was a matter of necessity; from now on, he would use material from his previous life less and less. Living as an ordinary person was quite appealing.

If one asked what ambition Liao Yuan had, perhaps becoming a world-renowned grand pianist was the shared wish of him and his former self. That shiver from the soul when his fingers touched the keys, the soothing closure of every pore—he deeply enjoyed it, a stark contrast to the pain of meditation.

He couldn’t quite understand why his former self had given up such pleasure for a woman. Whatever that sensation was, he could no longer feel it; perhaps it had driven his predecessor to distraction, but the current Liao Yuan had no intention of pursuing any so-called love…

His dream had yet to be realized. Why waste time on romance? Isn’t living well enough?

Soon, after settling the contract for “Ghost Blows Out the Light,” Liao Yuan compiled the manuscript for the first volume, “Ghost Blows Out the Light: The Ancient City of Jingjue,” and handed it to Dong Ling.

After reviewing the manuscript, Dong Ling passed it to the proofreaders, smiling as she said, “My future is now staked on you. I’ve never failed in all these years. With a 20% royalty rate, I hope you won’t disappoint me, Author Liao!”

Liao Yuan responded calmly with an OK. This boosted Dong Ling’s confidence. Though she was deputy chief editor, Dong Ling had always been a workaholic, personally involved in every matter. Whether dealing with famous authors or unknown rookies, she always saw her projects through to the end.

Liao Yuan’s arrival disrupted her planned trip to Donghai, for besides Pi Jianzhou, she had meetings scheduled with several renowned writers to discuss various collaborations. Yet, at this moment, Liao Yuan was clearly worthy of more attention.

Moreover, Liao Yuan was the first new author she had taken on in nearly a decade. She was used to poaching established writers, but now faced with a fresh talent, Dong Ling found it intriguing—especially since this newcomer was a heartthrob, which made her feel a rare sense of kinship.

She began calling Liao Yuan every few days, showing deep concern for his daily life, convinced that their friendship was growing rapidly.

With the publishing matters for “Ghost Blows Out the Light” finally settled, Liao Yuan simultaneously continued his work as a livestream host and eagerly awaited the arrival of the S-277.

About a week later, the Steinway he longed for finally traversed the seas from Germany and arrived in Donghai City.

“Careful, please, be gentle…”

In his bedroom, Liao Yuan anxiously instructed the movers to handle the piano with care.

Once the Steinway grand piano was set up in his bedroom, Liao Yuan immediately booked an installation technician. Meanwhile, Steinway’s sales advisor, Miao Bizhu, arrived at his home, carrying bags of gifts.

“Mr. Liao, you live here?”

In the living room, Miao Bizhu couldn’t help but ask. Having seen the neighborhood and decor for herself, she realized this modest home was nothing like the grand castle she had imagined for a piano virtuoso.

Liao Yuan watched the installation process intently. The secret room couldn’t accommodate the nearly three-meter-long grand piano, so it was placed in the living room. Even there, the luxurious instrument stood out starkly against its humble surroundings.

Hearing Miao Bizhu’s question, he looked up, a bit bewildered, then muttered an affirmative, seemingly unconcerned.

Miao Bizhu suddenly felt a sting in her nose.

A humble abode, but virtue shines within.

This, she thought, is a true pianist! This is the demeanor a new generation of musicians ought to possess! No matter where one lives, whether in poverty or wealth, the pursuit of musical excellence should never be extinguished!

Miao Bizhu was deeply moved.

She even felt an urge to embrace Liao Yuan. If she could, she would caress his forehead and exclaim, “Maestro, come with me! I’ll… steal a battery… no, I’ll work to support you!”

“Sir, please be careful when coming and going,”

The technician, having finished installation, cautioned him: “Steinway pianos are not like ordinary ones, especially these grand pianos typically seen only at concerts. They’re worth hundreds of thousands. Losing even a single part would be an irreparable loss.”

The technician clearly hadn’t grasped the piano’s full value. Seeing Liao Yuan’s living conditions, he didn’t even consider the possibility of it costing over a million. He estimated it at two or three hundred thousand, but as a professional, he doubted his own guess as he left.

Perhaps five or six hundred thousand?

He shook his head, recalling the feel of the piano’s surface, his hands itching to play. He discreetly memorized the S-277 model number, intending to look it up later.

This Steinway is the best on the market, and their pianos are notoriously expensive. Ordinary people might replace several upright pianos in a year, but a grand piano—most might never touch one.

Even among grand pianos, this is a top-tier model. Many famous pianists don’t own one.

After the technician departed, Liao Yuan could hardly wait to open the piano.

He hadn’t prepared a proper bench yet, so he dragged over a plastic chair from the dining table.

Sitting before the piano, he lifted the lid and ran his hands across the ivory keys, striking them from left to right.

Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do—

Liao Yuan felt a tingling surge through his body, his eyes moistening with a long-lost joy. In his ears, it was as if a deceased old friend smiled and said, “Hey, boy, you’ve come back!”

Yes, I’ve come back!

Liao Yuan’s hands moved wildly, as if possessed, passionately playing his beloved melodies across the eighty-eight black and white keys.

His fingers thundered like firecrackers, the crisp piano notes falling like pearls onto a jade plate, ringing clear.

What does it mean for man and piano to become one?

Miao Bizhu watched Liao Yuan, tears streaming down her face, fists clenched and trembling in the air, too moved for words.

In those mere seconds, she heard at least a dozen world-famous piano pieces played on this instrument!

At times, the deep echoes of a valley; at others, the roar of wind through the forest; then the cheerful trickle of a winding stream.

Mr. Liao’s mind leapt with astonishing speed, surpassing her imagination.

Others would cautiously play a single piece for a sound test, but Mr. Liao played more than a dozen at once, every note precise.

Watching the blurred shadows of his fingers darting across the keys, Miao Bizhu screamed with excitement.

Madman—he’s utterly mad!

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Please recommend this novel.