Chapter Forty-Three: Blinding

What should I play for my first piece to attract attention? Liao Yuan pondered this for a long time, repeatedly browsing the top-ranking videos in the music section. Eventually, he abandoned the idea of performing world-famous tunes and chose a different path.

After all, true virtuosos abound in the music section. Their piano performances are flawless in pitch, and each develops a unique style born from their individual personalities. Only those with a singular style truly captivate audiences.

Most of these pianists, however, play pieces everyone knows—world classics with countless predecessors shining brilliantly in history. Compared to them, these pianists who have never even held a concert seem to lack technical depth. This directly results in their videos having slightly lower view counts than other categories.

The original music section, in contrast, thrives despite its compositions lacking the melodic allure of world-famous pieces. Any original work is likely to be adored by the masses, with both views and comment counts consistently high. Among them, creators like Zero Zero Demon, Angry Sunflower, and Florist have the largest fan followings; every original release is met with a frenzy of enthusiasm.

Liao Yuan also discovered that his video of performing "Unravel" at the Steinway piano store had been uploaded to the Station, and its weekly views exceeded half a million, ranking in the top ten of the original music charts.

He recalled the female streamer who appeared that day, and with trepidation, clicked on the video. Instantly, a torrent of comments raced across the screen, dazzling his eyes.

“Warning: High energy ahead!!!”
“Non-stop intensity!!”
“Heart patients, steer clear!!!”
“Coin first, then watch!”
“Mortal, have you witnessed the hand of God?”
“Confession to the creator! Bought a piano, will practice to death!”
“Three times daily rewatch!”
“Brainwashing loop series!!”
“Need a girlfriend or boyfriend? I can switch at will…”
“Trying to trick me into learning piano again?”
“What level is this?”

“1.5x speed—welcome to the new world… all you see are afterimages!”
“Master, is my kneeling posture correct?”
“Hello all, I’m a new troll here, don’t know the rules—do I follow procedure or just start flaming?”
“From afar, the hardware is terrifying; up close, the left hand is inhuman!”
Looking at a two- or three-minute video, uploaded less than a week ago, the comment count already surpassed ten thousand, making Liao Yuan gasp in astonishment. Truly, this was Asia’s premier cultural community!

He soon noticed the video had also garnered over thirty thousand coins. While these coins don’t translate directly to income, they’re crucial for a work’s popularity—only with enough coins, favorites, and clicks can a video make it onto the charts.

Clicking into the creator’s page, Liao Yuan found the video was uploaded by a user named Fu Xiaoci—the female streamer from the piano store. Beside her avatar was a conspicuous orange tangerine icon, indicating her tangerine count for the week:

This week: 4,646.

Tangerines are a tip—each tangerine equals one yuan. Today was Wednesday; in just two days, Fu Xiaoci had earned over four thousand yuan from this one video.

Fortunately, the video never showed Liao Yuan’s face, only his profile as he played.

Liao Yuan considered this, checked the charts again, and finally decided to align with the market by performing a classical piece in a popular style.

Without excessive showmanship, Liao Yuan pressed the ivory keys. Instantly, the notes reverberating through the steel strings made every pore on his body open wide. He lifted his head, closed his eyes in pleasure, and let his hands dance rhythmically across the keys.

The piece was called "The Fact of Your Departure."

The first time he heard it in his previous life was during a trip to London. By the Eurostar station exit stood an old, battered piano, maintained daily by staff. Passengers waiting for trains would sometimes sit and play impromptu pieces.

That day, a white-haired old man sat at the piano and played "The Fact of Your Departure." In that moment, the noisy station fell silent. Everyone was moved by the music, stopping to listen to the story woven in the melody.

Amid gentle, touching notes, the old man wept. He sat far to the left, as if playing a duet, perhaps imagining an elegant lady in the empty seat beside him.

Someone filmed this and posted it to social media. The photo quickly went viral. Among the crowd listening, besides the old man and his piano, Liao Yuan stood in a black trench coat, striking and forlorn.

This scene caused a stir in the Chinese community. A superstar appearing at London airport to listen to an ordinary old man's performance even caught the attention of British media.

Countless journalists and fans analyzed Liao Yuan’s emotions through the old man's music. Only after media coverage did Liao Yuan learn the piece’s name.

The Fact of Your Departure.

The old man's wife had died at that very Eurostar station, felled suddenly by a heart attack, never to awaken.

The halogen lights in Liao Yuan’s living room cast a gentle halo on his face, imbuing him with an aura of holiness. As he played, the drifting notes began to transform into butterflies, fluttering their lively wings around him, as if tireless, never ceasing.

…

Moonlight poured into a quiet bedroom in a villa district.

Wrapped in a towel, Song Junze dried his hair, leapt naked onto the bed, shook his hips, then dove under the covers. The combined force of the fresh air system and central heating made the room as cold as winter.

Moments later, he propped himself against the headboard, picked up his tablet, and habitually logged in to "Jili Gulu," browsing videos.

As CEO of a drone aerial photography company, self-made and worth over a hundred million at just thirty, Song Junze was the archetype of a diamond bachelor.

Unlike many wealthy men, Song Junze’s greatest pleasure wasn’t inviting socialites to dance in glamorous clubs, but living like an ordinary man: surfing the web, gaming, watching live streams after work, and occasionally playing piano—regardless of skill, so long as it pleased him.

Recently, he enjoyed playing "Unravel." Ever since witnessing the young pianist’s performance in Fu Xiaoci’s outdoor stream, he’d been captivated. Unfortunately, even with perfect timing, he couldn’t master the entire piece.

Whenever he recalled the pianist’s monstrous hand speed, his scalp tingled. But perseverance had brought him his fortune, so after opening the Station, Song Junze prepared to watch "Unravel" yet again.

But the next moment, he froze.

In the recently uploaded video list, the cover of a Steinway S-277 gleamed at him, sending out dazzling light.

So striking!