Chapter Forty-Four: The Newcomer

As a true piano enthusiast, Song Junze could recite the strengths and weaknesses of all major piano brands around the world like a catalog, and among them, he cherished Steinway most of all. In the grand living room of his villa alone stood a Steinway worth a million, yet compared to the S-277, there was still a gap of more than two hundred thousand.

These differences were subtle in sound quality, but also lay in size and material. Song Junze had once tried to order an S-277; unfortunately, the S-277 was a global limited edition, sold only in select regions. He had specifically inquired with several flagship stores in different cities, but all his efforts ended in disappointment, forcing him to settle for another model.

When he saw the Steinway featured on the cover of the latest submission video list, Song Junze immediately recognized the superior material and majestic presence of the instrument. Even compared to his own piano, it was no less impressive. But after a closer look, he was suddenly shaken, stunned beyond control.

Anyone who could afford an S-277 was certainly not ordinary.

Moreover, this uploader was evidently a rookie making their first submission; apart from the title “The Fact You Left,” there were no additional embellishments. Compared to other uploaders whose titles screamed, “Men will be silent, women will weep!” or “99.99% will regret not watching this exclusive performance,” or “A father doing this in front of his daughter,” this newcomer’s title, utterly devoid of tricks, was simply… adorable.

Intrigued, he tapped his finger and opened the video link.

The filming angle throughout the video was fixed, showing only the piano and the uploader’s hands and legs. Clearly, a young man—a white shirt, black trousers—like a musician who had just returned home from a recital to play leisurely.

Song Junze instinctively glanced at the top right corner—there was the original avatar signifying a newly registered user, with both followers and fans marked at zero. In the user’s bio, a single line was written: “Every day without dancing is a betrayal of life.”

Above the comments section, the number of viewers and bullet comments were displayed—seven people watching, sixteen bullet comments.

“A rookie, indeed,” he thought.

He clicked to play the video.

The screen shifted and the three-minute-forty-second video began. The first bullet comments to appear were: “Such a beautiful piece and no one’s here? Claiming the first comment!” and “Steinway! It’s a Steinway! Wow, a rare sighting of a rich uploader in the music section! Let me cling to you!”

Suddenly, Song Junze felt his mood unexpectedly unsettled. He blocked the bullet comments and started to listen in earnest.

“Ding dong, ding dong, ding ding…”

He watched the uploader’s slender fingers gently play, listened to the music flowing from his computer, gradually becoming entranced. Though the recording equipment rendered the sound less than perfect, the uploader’s profound skill transformed every imperfection into exquisite beauty.

Memories of days gone by surfaced—

In the piano room, you asked me to sit and listen as you played your newly learned piece.

During study hall, you scribbled “Try being with you” on paper.

After graduation, I held your hand as we walked through streets and alleys, evading countless envious glances.

Later, I browsed your social media from the East China Sea at latitude 31°, watching you in Melbourne at latitude 37° south, holding another man’s hand, your smile radiant.

Time had passed, and you had left.

The fact became fact.

Song Junze lit a cigarette, listening to the music from the video, his gaze melancholic.

There was little technical embellishment; the difficulty of the piece was about grade five or six—something an elementary student could master—yet why did it make him so sad?

He watched the uploader's clean, slender hands dancing across the keys, the fluid technique like a song carried by the wind, as if a sorrowful woman whispered her pain in his ear.

Unlike the virtuosity of “Unravel,” this piece, “When You Left,” though simple in fingering, was as refined as any work by the famous original uploaders.

Song Junze closed his eyes, tossing all his gloom into the trash, then typed a message in the bullet comment section: “For the fact that you’re gone, I have no recourse. But to the passerby, I wish you well.”

Immediately, he opened the reward page and entered Orange Tree: 10,000.

Ten thousand oranges—worth ten thousand yuan. When the reward notification popped up on the video, every viewer was stunned, and suddenly the bullet comment section exploded with messages.

“Damn, my emotions were brewing, I was about to cry, then someone rewards—damn, pay me back my tears!”

“Wow, it’s Send-Off Master, truly great minds think alike. Having money is wonderful, otherwise I’d reward too, sob sob sob!”

“This rookie is lucky—ten thousand oranges, that’s ten grand, shouldn't they kneel and thank?”

“Kneel? Hold on, do you think someone who can afford a Steinway limited edition is short on money?”

“Friendly reminder: uploader’s piano model is S-277!”

“Just checked the uploader’s piano—terrifying! This piano is worth 1.43 million…”

“Master, let me hug your thigh!”

But none of this was seen by Send-Off Master; he had blocked the bullet comments. Still, as he rewarded, he noticed the number of viewers: in just two or three minutes, it had jumped from seven to one hundred and forty-one.

“Indeed, good works will never be buried.”

…

Overnight, “The Fact You Left” exceeded sixteen thousand views, with over three thousand bullet comments, more than seven thousand coins tossed by viewers, and a total of fifteen thousand oranges in rewards!

All these figures together propelled “The Fact You Left” into the top ten of the original weekly trending chart overnight, echoing the sixth place “Unravel” from afar.

The regulars of the original music section, waking up early and opening the page, saw “The Fact You Left” rise sharply on the leaderboard, storming into the top ten in less than ten hours, shining brightly.

It wasn’t just passersby who were astonished.

Even the official editor, just arriving at the office and sitting down at their desk, logged into the backend, not even finished yawning, was startled by these numbers.

A newcomer?

The editor wiped their eyes, staring at the uploader page of user “Asdfghj,” instantly dumbfounded.