Chapter 87: The Pianist Hasn't Arrived Yet? Then Who Is That on Stage?

It could be said that this was the first time Wang Mo felt out of place in his surroundings. The students and teachers here, their spirits, temperaments, ways of conducting themselves, and behaviors, all differed greatly from those he had encountered before. If he didn’t do something, an uneasy feeling lingered in his heart. It was like someone suddenly arriving in an unfamiliar environment; they would most likely focus their attention on everything around them and busy themselves with objects to pass the time.

At this moment, Wang Mo was experiencing exactly that. He glanced at the piano, a Yamaha—quite decent. On the piano sat a music score. Wang Mo opened it and searched for a relatively simple piece, preparing to play. When it came to playing the piano, Wang Mo was confident. After all, he had genuinely passed the Grade Ten professional piano exam. He possessed true skill.

“Hm?” The next second, Wang Mo felt something was off. “Why do these scores seem simpler?” He recalled that, when playing pieces of similar difficulty before, he always needed to practice several times before he could gradually get the hang of them. But now, after just a glance, the scores seemed to have settled themselves in his mind—clear and vivid. It felt as though, once his hands touched the keys, the music would pour out instinctively.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot…” Wang Mo quietly tapped his forehead. “Last time I opened the treasure chest, I got ‘Professional Piano Technique.’ Is this the power of that skill?” It must be! His heart grew warmer.

“Let’s see what’s different from before.” Wang Mo’s interest was piqued. He chose a piece called “Autumn Field,” composed by a pianist from Huaxia on Blue Star. He tried the piano, its tone was precise. Then Wang Mo began the real performance.

A natural sense of mastery surged within him. The previously stiff and cold piano seemed to meld with his body, suddenly obedient. Many finger techniques he had struggled with before now flowed easily. At his fingertips, gentle notes streamed like clear water, rippling through the lecture hall. Several busy students instinctively glanced over.

“Sounds beautiful.”
“He’s really good.”
“No wonder he’s from the neighboring music academy.”
“Listening to this makes work feel effortless.”
…

The students discussed, their moods lifting as the melodious piano filled the air. Most people who haven’t studied piano can hardly distinguish between a regular player and a master; it all sounds similar to them. At best, those sensitive to music might feel that today’s playing is smoother and more pleasant than before.

Soon, everyone grew accustomed to the piano’s presence.

After a minute or two, a girl in a white dress, participating in the neighboring Music and Arts Day, hurried over and called to the students signing in at the door, “Sun Qian, do you have a pen? Lend me one, I’ll return it later.”

“No need for formalities, just use it.” The girl at the sign-in table handed a pen with a smile.

“Thanks.” As the girl turned to leave, her eyes drifted into the classroom. “Sun Qian, who’s playing the piano?”

Sun Qian smiled, “Our club president invited a student from the music academy to help with today’s performance. What do you think? Pretty good, right?”

The girl in the white dress was stunned. “A music academy student? How is that possible?” At first, she hadn’t thought much. But the more she listened, the more surprised she became, her heart growing increasingly shaken. She herself studied music, her piano skills reaching performance level. Because of that, she could sense the extraordinary quality of the pianist in the classroom.

The performer’s finger technique, control over speed and strength, and variation of tone all far surpassed her own abilities. A simple piece like “Autumn Field” was brought to life with a dynamic expressiveness she had never imagined.

“This level could teach me! Which student from the music academy is so amazing?” Waves rose in her heart; she wanted to see who the performer was.

“He Yan, where’s the pen?” a girl called from afar.

But He Yan waved her hand, signaling for the other to come over. The girl jogged over, complaining, “I asked for a pen, what are you doing?”

He Yan pointed to the classroom, “Sun Xinyan, listen.”

“What’s there to listen to, you…” Sun Xinyan began, then suddenly froze.

By then, the two girls at the sign-in desk realized something was wrong.

Sun Qian hurriedly asked, “What’s going on?”

He Yan shook her head, indicating she’d explain later.

The piano’s melody grew ever more graceful. Wang Mo’s playing became increasingly skilled and confident as time passed. As “Autumn Field” ended, he immediately began a second piece, “Joyous Sky.” This one was much more difficult, considered a challenge even for students who had passed their Grade Ten exams. But Wang Mo effortlessly grasped its rhythm. Under his fingers, the lively and elegant melody danced, as if the clouds and warm sunshine could be felt.

Sun Xinyan was enraptured. He Yan was deeply moved, thinking, “This is professional level—a true concert pianist!” Even her own teacher was slightly inferior.

Heavens! She was hearing such a level of performance in this place.

The piano is an instrument that demands innate talent. Beginners might learn it easily, but reaching performance level is rare. To achieve the standard of the current performer, one must be born with exceptional ability.

…

Because of He Yan and Sun Xinyan’s unusual behavior at the door, more students from next door grew curious and gathered around.

Everyone attending Qingbei’s Music and Arts Day had refined musical skills; most had studied piano, with a few at high levels.

As they approached, they all froze.

“Who’s playing?”
“Is it a teacher from the music academy?”
“No way.”
“This rhythm, this expressiveness—it’s incredible.”
“Which professor is it?”
…

The crowd buzzed, faces full of astonishment, and some confusion: Why hadn’t this teacher gone to the main music event, but was here for the cultural exchange? Who had invited such an expert?

Soon, the entrance was packed, but no one dared enter the classroom.

Inside, the busy students gradually noticed the gathering at the door.

The girl who had dragged Wang Mo in earlier approached Sun Qian, “What’s going on? Why are so many from the music event crowding over?”

Sun Qian shook her head, bewildered, “Luo Hui, I don’t know either. But from their discussions, it seems the pianist inside is very skilled, and they’re all drawn over.”

“Oh, I see.” Luo Hui flashed a bright smile. “He’s a top student I invited from the Central Conservatory. Not bad, right? I worked hard to get him. He wasn’t going to come, but I mentioned that Professors He Zhixing and Tang Xuanyuan would be here today, so he agreed to perform.”

Sun Qian understood, “So he’s from the Central Conservatory. No wonder…” Though they were students from Qingbei, it was the Central Conservatory students who excelled in music.

After all, each field has its experts.

“Exactly.” Luo Hui looked proud; she felt she’d done something wonderful, even stirring up the musical talents next door.

She was about to say more when her phone rang.

Luo Hui glanced at it and quickly answered. After a few words, her face turned shocked and strange. “What? He’s stuck on the Third Ring Road? His phone is dead? He’ll need more time to get here? But…but…”

Click!

There was a noisy commotion on the other end, and the call was cut off.

Luo Hui stared at her phone, listening to the busy tone, dumbfounded.

The pianist she had invited was still on the road? The top student from the Central Conservatory hadn’t arrived?

Then—

Then—

Then who was the person playing the piano on stage?

Luo Hui felt her mind explode.

She was about to lose her mind.

(End of chapter)