Chapter Sixty-Six: A Song That Moves the Heart

Lin Weiyin’s moist, delicate lips gently closed around a red apple.

She was dressed in casual evening attire, leaning on the railing of the second deck with both arms, her beautiful lashes trembling softly as she gazed downward.

She had always believed that a truly great pianist, even when doing nothing but sitting there, could dazzle all of time itself.

Such extraordinary allure sprang from the persistence and passion that the pianist poured into his craft…

In the Vatican, she had once been fortunate enough to witness a transcendent old woman. Even as she merely sat, the devout thronged around her, prostrating themselves in prayer.

And today, it seemed she was witnessing another such figure…

Lin Weiyin watched with keen interest.

On the deck, under the gaze of the crowd, Liao Yuan slowly took his seat. After adjusting himself to the pedals and keys, he began to play.

With the first note, a stream of ethereal light seemed to surge from Liao Yuan’s fingertips.

From south to north, from black keys to white, he suddenly closed his eyes—

Was he playing by memory alone?

A chorus of admiration swept through the audience.

In that instant, a stirring melody rang in everyone’s ears.

The music was like the evening drum, the morning bell—each note penetrating the heart, commanding absolute focus of mind.

Every soul was shaken.

In that moment, it was as if wild stallions neighed by their ears, galloping across the boundless desert.

Beneath the sky, a caravan moved slowly along a broken post road, solemn monks passed by, ancient cities stood in desolation—everything was bleak, mottled, and grand…

The wind howled, yellow sand raged.

Yet amid all this barrenness and ruin, it seemed a single green shoot swayed bravely in the wind—

No matter how fiercely the wind blew, how heavy the rain fell, how lightning flashed or thunder roared, it stood firm.

As if it had stood there since the beginning of time!

What a soul-stirring scene this was!

From despair, new life was born!

All were left speechless, struck dumb in awe.

Among the crowd, Xi Yun, dressed in an evening gown, watched Liao Yuan play with closed eyes, her heart leaping into her throat, nearly bursting into a scream of excitement!

She gripped her skirt tightly, tears shimmering in her eyes.

In that instant, she seemed to see again the youth who once strode through the campus, commanding storms with his presence…

“President Xi, President Xi!”

Someone nearby called out, “Your company truly hides its talents—a great pianist willing to become a mere streamer, why is that?”

“Is he searching for inspiration?”

“Did he compose this piece while living incognito among the crowd?”

“Is this Brother Yuan the same one who narrates ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’? My god, he’s amazing!”

“Not only a pianist, but a novelist—President Xi, can you give us a way to contact this gentleman?”

“Yes, yes, I want it too!”

A flurry of excited chatter broke out among the socialites, drawing the ire of the surrounding pianists.

Many turned back to glare at them, and the socialites fell instantly silent.

Zhang Chao was probably the most excited one present.

Liao Yuan was his guest, and now, basking in Liao Yuan’s glory, his vanity swelled to bursting.

Pianists around him kept asking about Liao Yuan, even some who normally kept their distance and regarded him with disdain—masters, no less—now approached, making Zhang Chao feel overjoyed.

He even took over Fu Xiaoci’s duties, distributing his own business cards after introducing Liao Yuan.

Gao Feiliu, meanwhile, was utterly enraptured. “Journey Beyond the Western Regions” was a piece he often played in recent days, but the score had always been incomplete, leaving him unable to reach true resonance.

Now, the complete version was being performed before his eyes, by its very composer. The sorrow, the hardship, and the steadfast faith in victory left Gao Feiliu deeply moved.

He might be only thirteen, but with experience performing in many countries, he was well acquainted with the world’s great pianists and had conversed with most. Yet none had ever moved him as Liao Yuan did, with a single piece.

Liao Yuan, eyes closed in performance, seemed wreathed in a power beyond words.

That power was irresistible, drawing all in, while the surging notes swept through the air like a tide, dancing and circling near the listeners’ ears.

They surged and pulsed, spreading through every pore, making it impossible not to tremble.

“This is a real talent!” Meng Han turned to Xu Sanguan, music director of the Jiangnan Opera House, and smiled. “Director Xu, seize the moment! The future of your opera house—heaven or hell—depends on whether you can secure this man. Let me tell you, he’s far superior to that ‘Uncle A’ from the internet. Any opera house lucky enough to recruit him will soar.”

Xu Sanguan forced a bitter smile. “Meng Han, do you think such a golden opportunity would fall to me?”

To Xu Sanguan, this “Journey Beyond the Western Regions” was simply magnificent, and this was only the piano version.

Imagine if it were orchestrated, adapted into an opera—my god, it would be a sensation!

And a musician capable of composing such a work—why would he settle for being an opera house pianist?

Meng Han said coolly, “I know your concerns. But in my view, although his compositional ability is extraordinary, his technique at the keys is only average. Of course, I mean average by international standards. Even domestically, his performance skills are just so-so.”

“Even Gao Feiliu holds him in high esteem…” Xu Sanguan sounded uncertain.

Meng Han scoffed, “Feiliu admires every composer you meet, don’t let him mislead you. Besides, look at this man’s age—he must be at least twenty-five, right? To reach this age without making his mark means his playing must be lacking. He’s a born composer, not a born great pianist. If Jiangnan Opera House is willing to spend, I think there’s a chance to bring him in. Of course, Uncle A is good too, but at this level, this Yuan fellow is clearly the better fit.”

Xu Sanguan was clearly tempted.

As he gazed at Liao Yuan, hunger flashed in his eyes…

But as Liao Yuan’s performance grew ever more inspired, as if he were wrapped in a halo, Xu Sanguan suddenly shivered, then said timidly, “Meng Han, don’t fool me—I can’t help but see him as a great pianist!”

Meng Han looked up at the sky, speechless and frustrated.

After a moment, he said in a low voice, “Xu Sanguan, for old times’ sake, I’ll help you one last time! In a moment, I’ll take the stage and show you what a true great pianist is!”

“The title ‘great pianist’ isn’t for just anyone!”