Who cares about Mr. Pei or not, her only goal right now is to defeat Ji Yunya and completely trample her underfoot.
Pei Qinghan’s gaze lightly swept over Song Jinwen, and for a mont, Song Jinwen felt a chill at the back of her neck, as if a knife was being held against her throat. That feeling was terrifying, yet she couldn’t locate its source.
Is it an illusion?
Pei Qinghan stepped toward his seat and slowly sat down.
Yan Nangui glanced at him with a smile, and Pei Qinghan smiled back.
Yan Nangui raised his glass and drained it in one go.
"Alright, let’s begin." Yun Ya walked to the piano, sat down, took a deep breath, slightly closed her eyes, and her fingers lightly brushed over the keys, as if she was sensing sothing...
It had been a long ti since she touched the piano; she almost forgot what playing was like. But now, as her fingers glided over the cold keys, that familiar feeling slowly returned.
When she was a child, Ji Lanyi hired the best piano teacher from abroad to teach her. Each lesson was forty minutes long, charged by the minute—ten thousand per minute, equating to four hundred thousand per lesson. Ji Lanyi never hesitated to spend on her education. The piano teacher gave his all; one lesson was worth a year’s worth for others. He once said that she had great talent and that with effort, she would definitely beco a world-renowned piano master.
Back then, she hated playing the piano; actually, she hated having her life arranged by Ji Lanyi. She had no freedom, no rights, just endless study every day. Even when she gasped for breath, Ji Lanyi would point at her and scold her for not being graceful...
Ji Lanyi lived too exhaustedly, and as his puppet, she lived even more so. But that small girl longed for maternal love; she hoped for her mother to see her as a daughter, not a re study machine, to cry, to behave like a child, to be gently nurtured by her mother. So, she forced herself to strive for excellence, thinking if she t her mother’s expectations, becoming the perfect daughter, would she love her a bit more? Would she be nicer to Miaomiao?
That little girl was truly foolish; she didn’t know that in this world, so people are born heartless. Her effort would only make her feel even more pathetic...
"To think you can play Liszt’s most challenging Will-o’-the-Wisp so perfectly at five, oh my god, it’s truly unbelievable. You’re a genius, no, a prodigy among prodigies...."
Sitting in front of the giant grand piano, the little girl seed so small. Yet, her hands possessed a magical flexibility, capable of playing this world’s most beautiful and complex music. Her eyes had a calmness beyond her years, her exquisitely small face expressionless.
She was like a marionette, soulless, everything ticulously calculated as if by precise machinery.
No emotion.
The piano teacher said everything was perfect about her except she lacked emotion.
"The Vienna Music Academy has a prodigy plan; I initially considered recomnding you, but later felt you weren’t suited for piano. Soone who can’t inject emotion into music can’t play the world’s most beautiful lody. My initial thoughts were wrong...."
She once had a chance for fa, which slipped away just like that. Ji Lanyi was furious upon knowing, harshly questioning why she missed such a golden opportunity.
"I am so disappointed in you."
"Soone who can’t inject emotion into music can’t play the world’s most beautiful lody."
"What?"
She looked emotionlessly at the breathtakingly beautiful woman before her: "You didn’t teach emotion, so I don’t know."
The raised hand, about to descend, suddenly froze.
The little girl stubbornly raised her head, her eyes filled with an indomitable spirit.
"I never want to play the piano again in my life; it makes sick to touch it." She jumped off the stool and ran away without looking back.
Did she truly hate playing the piano? She simply hated Ji Lanyi arranging everything, a silent protest.
Amidst the intervening years, spanning decades, she had long learned how to love. At this mont, as she touched the keys again, mories flooded back.
Ji Lanyi, you once called proud. You also said you were disappointed in . No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t change the impression you had of . I am your daughter, but more like your enemy.
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