Chapter 37: Gan Yanyu Will Keep Up With Lin Tian's Pace
In the car on the way to their destination.
Gan Yanyu clenched her small fist tightly while her other hand busily traced patterns onto her thigh, then pinched it firmly.
This peculiar sight left Lin Tian staring in bewildernt.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Huh? What?"
Caught red-handed, Gan Yanyu's cheeks flushed slightly as she awkwardly shrank back into her seat.
"I draw stars on my leg when I'm nervous," she admitted.
"And what about the pinch?" Lin Tian pressed.
"That's to clear the canvas."
"You are really sothing else." He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.
It seed that Gan Yanyu had developed an entire system for this ritualistic behavior—though whether anyone else could replicate its functionality remained a mystery.
In the afternoon, Lin Tian had sacrificed his precious lunch break and hailed a cab just to accompany Gan Yanyu to et the chairman of the Music Association—a favor he'd promised her without hesitation.
"Are you really that nervous?" Lin Tian asked casually.
"It's not —I'm nervous for you," Gan Yanyu replied earnestly.
"For ?"
"Yes! The old man we're eting is a conductor who has perford at the Royal Albert Hall in London!"
"The what hall?"
"The Royal Albert Hall in London!" Gan Yanyu emphasized, holding up her index finger like a professor delivering a lecture. "Only world-class musicians get to perform there."
"Oh." Lin Tian nodded slowly. Though unfamiliar with classical music jargon, he understood enough from pop culture references. It was akin to how idols in ani often dread of performing at Tokyo Do—the pinnacle of success. Of course, entertainnt and high art operated on entirely different planes.
"Besides the Royal Albert Hall," Gan Yanyu continued, her voice brimming with reverence, "there's also the Musikverein in Vienna, the Berlin Philharmonic Hall in Germany, and Carnegie Hall in New York. These venues represent the ultimate sanctuaries of music. Performing in any of them ans you've reached the highest echelon of your craft."
As she listed these iconic nas, her eyes sparkled with longing. No doubt, they symbolized Gan Yanyu's own aspirations as a cellist.
"What about Grandpa Gan? Has he ever been to those places?"
"No…" Her gaze dimd noticeably. "He almost made it once but stopped performing after being eliminated in the Kölner Cup."
"That must have hit him hard."
Lin Tian struggled to fully grasp the weight of such devastation. While he wasn't well-versed in cello competitions, he knew there were plenty of prestigious contests worldwide. Surely, even for artists, life didn't revolve solely around competitions?
"It wasn't supposed to happen," Gan Yanyu murmured softly.
"What do you an?"
"He was sabotaged."
Her voice quivered with suppressed emotion. "During the competition, Grandpa was perfectly fine until the morning of the final performance. Right after finishing rehearsal, he collapsed in the dressing room, vomiting uncontrollably. He endured through the performance before finally going to the hospital to have his stomach pumped."
Gan Yanyu paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. "The Zhonghua Cello Association filed a complaint with the competition committee, and experts from Vienna investigated—but nothing ca of it."
This revelation stunned Lin Tian. All this ti, he'd only known that Grandpa Gan had been eliminated in the quarterfinals of the Kölner Cup. Yet here lay a darker truth buried beneath layers of silence. News of the incident hadn't surfaced online either; likely, it had been swept under the rug. After all, unresolved scandals rarely served public interest.
No wonder Grandpa Gan abandoned playing the cello altogether, opting instead to open a cozy café where he spent his days quietly fading away.
His spirit had shattered.
If it were , I'd probably give up too, Lin Tian thought grimly.
Years had passed since that fateful day sixteen years ago, yet the scars ran deep. For Gan Yanyu, however, this unresolved chapter fueled her determination to compete in the Kölner Cup herself.
Turning her face toward the car window, she whispered resolutely:
"If I ever make it to Vienna, I want to uncover exactly what happened to Grandpa back then."
Perhaps ti had dulled the mories of others involved—the competitors, the judges, the audience—but for Grandpa Gan, whose life now hung by a thread in a vegetative state, the clock had stopped ticking forever on that tragic day.
Watching her comatose grandfather, Gan Yanyu couldn't let go of her fixation with the Kölner Cup. And now, Lin Tian began to understand why.
These musicians harbored an almost obsessive devotion to their craft.
At the sa ti, curiosity stirred within him about the elderly artist nad Wan Qi.
---
The car pulled up outside an aging apartnt complex. A young man answered the door after they knocked.
"Hello," Gan Yanyu greeted politely. "We're looking for Mr. Wan."
"You must be Gan Yanyu and Lin Tian. The old man's been waiting for you," the youth said with a smile, gesturing for them to enter.
Inside, the decor exuded a distinct early-2000s vibe—gray-blue walls adorned with faded calendars evoking dreamlike nostalgia. As they stepped further in, Lin Tian spotted a white-haired elder tidying up so books.
"Ah, Yanyu's here!" The old man turned, beaming warmly upon seeing Gan Yanyu.
"Master Wan."
Gan Yanyu bowed respectfully.
"Oh, stop with the formalities already! How many tis have I told you? Your grandfather and I go way back—he practically raised you under my watchful eye!" Wan Qi waved dismissively, clearly disliking the formality.
Like Grandpa Gan, Wan Qi radiated vitality despite his age. And much like Lin Tian, he shared Gan Yanyu's sentints regarding her grandfather.
"How's your grandpa doing?" Wan Qi asked gently.
"The sa as always," Gan Yanyu replied, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile.
Hearing this, the old man sighed heavily, setting aside his book and sinking into a wooden rocking chair. Lighting a cigarette, he muttered, "That stubborn fool. I kept telling him not to hole himself up in that café—it drains all his luck. Now look at him…"
Sensing the mood turning somber, Wan Qi changed the subject. "Enough of that. Yanyu, who's this young man?"
"This is Lin Tian."
"Nice to et you, sir," Lin Tian said, bowing deeply out of habit.
"Ah, yes! You're the one who composed Greeting of Love, aren't you?" Wan Qi exclaid, rising excitedly from his chair to scrutinize Lin Tian. "Impressive, truly impressive. Bright future ahead of you!"
He motioned for them to follow him into another room. Flipping on the light revealed a piano standing proudly in the center.
"Co, take a look," Wan Qi urged, guiding Lin Tian over. "Feel it. What do you think? If you don't mind, it's yours."
"Mine?" Lin Tian stamred, overwheld.
"This piano's been with for nearly thirty years—it's like an old friend. But Yanyu begged relentlessly. Haha! She's only ever asked for one thing in all these years. How could I refuse?" Wan Qi chuckled heartily.
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