When Bai Anqi came down from the stage, Lin Chen had already risen from the audience and hurried over to meet her.
The cameras followed them the whole way, framing the two of them in the same shot.
Lin Chen gently patted Bai Anqi’s shoulder and said something, and Bai Anqi lowered her head with a smile.
The footage was cut into a short video and quickly appeared on all the major social media platforms, titled “At the Shengyao Dianfeng Jingda Auditions, an Ordinary Couple Chases Their Dreams Together!”
The comment section erupted with teasing.
“So sweet, so sweet! What kind of divine love is this!”
“Working hard to shine for the person you love—so touching.”
“Lin Chen is so gentle. Anqi deserves it!”
On the popularity voting channel, Bai Anqi’s votes surged once again, leaving Shen Qinghuan, in second place, far behind.
A staff member came to call numbers: “Number 17, Shen Qinghuan.”
In the backstage lounge, Shen Qinghuan picked up her instrument case and stood.
Three thousand yuan—here she comes!
Shen Qinghuan carried her instrument case out of the lounge and headed down the corridor toward the concert hall.
The corridor was long, with afternoon sunlight streaming in through the glass windows on both sides, making the whole passage bright and clear.
From a distance came the faint sound of strings from the concert hall, mixed with the intermittent chatter of staff members’ walkie-talkies.
She was going over the pieces she would perform later in her head.
As she passed a corner of the corridor, there was suddenly a commotion up ahead.
Several young men in flashy T-shirts were blocking the passage, holding their phones and looking around—they clearly weren’t students of the school.
One of them, a young man with dyed yellow hair, spotted Shen Qinghuan, his eyes lit up, and he glanced at the others.
“Hey, the one Lin mentioned… that’s her, right? That Shen Qinghuan or whatever?”
The group looked at each other and immediately closed in.
Shen Qinghuan stopped in her tracks, frowned as she looked at these unfamiliar faces.
The yellow-haired one looked her up and down, a malicious smile on his lips:
“Heard you’re pretty arrogant. Before going on TV, you said something like ‘let skill do the talking.’ What are you putting on an act for?”
“Exactly, bullying a hardworking girl like Bai Anqi—what’s so great about you?”
Another one chimed in, loudly, drawing the attention of other students in the corridor.
Shen Qinghuan looked at them expressionlessly, frowning, and prepared to turn around and go another way.
Normally she wasn’t one to be pushed around, but right now the competition came first.
The yellow-haired one stepped forward to block her path, lowering his voice but with an even more aggressive tone:
“What, cat got your tongue? Weren’t you so good at talking?”
He reached out and shoved at Shen Qinghuan’s shoulder. She dodged sideways, but the wall was right behind her—there was nowhere to retreat.
She was truly angry now: “How dare you come into the school to pick a fight! Get out of the way right now, or I’m calling security!”
Just then, a burst of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.
A squad was approaching, the leaders dressed in black uniforms with security department badges pinned to their chests.
Seeing this, the yellow-haired gang didn’t back off—instead, they deliberately pressed in toward Shen Qinghuan.
In the chaos, a hand slammed into Shen Qinghuan’s instrument case.
“Get lost!” Shen Qinghuan’s elbow knocked against the wall, her grip went slack, and the instrument case crashed heavily to the ground.
With a sharp crack, the sound was especially jarring in the corridor.
Shen Qinghuan’s face changed instantly.
She crouched down, shoved the yellow-haired thug aside, and swiftly unzipped the violin case.
The protective padding inside had been jolted open. The custom-made violin ordered from Italy lay quietly inside, a thin crack now running across its top plate.
Two strings had snapped, dangling limply against the body of the instrument.
Shen Qinghuan’s breath caught.
This violin had been with the original owner for five years, from age fifteen to twenty. Every competition, every performance—the original owner had played it with this very violin.
The body was made of top-grade century-old spruce, the back of evenly grained maple, the bridge from a premier French brand…
Every detail had been handcrafted by a national-treasure-level Italian luthier!
The cost of this violin alone would have been enough to buy a decent apartment in this city.
Security guards rushed up and quickly restrained the group. A few of the thugs were still cursing as the guards pinned their arms behind their backs against the wall.
The commotion in the corridor was transmitted into the livestream through the camera at the entrance of the concert hall.
“What just happened? Sounded like some kind of commotion?”
“The screen shook for a second, couldn’t see clearly.”
“Looks like someone was blocking a contestant in the hallway?”
The comments began flooding in, but the camera had already cut back to the stage.
In the reception room of the concert hall building, a gray-haired, scholarly old man sat on the sofa, talking with Lu Shiyan.
The principal’s surname was Lu—Lu Bingan, the longtime principal of Jingda, and also Lu Shiyan’s own uncle.
Lu Shiyan had come to the school today to finalize the exact amount of his investment in his alma mater.
The noise outside faintly drifted into the office.
Principal Lu frowned, walked to the door, and opened it for a look.
In the direction of the corridor exit, several security guards were escorting a few people out, a crowd gathered around in a circle.
“What’s going on?” Principal Lu beckoned to a staff member by the door.
The staff member ran over and whispered a few words. Principal Lu’s face darkened, and he pushed open the door and strode out.
Lu Shiyan hadn’t intended to move, but when he heard the name “Shen Qinghuan” from the staff member, his hand paused, teacup in midair.
He set down the cup and followed unhurriedly behind his uncle.
In the corridor, Shen Qinghuan was still crouched on the ground, her gaze fixed on the two broken strings in the violin case.
Her heart was breaking.
The head of security ran over, drenched in sweat:
“Student Shen, we’re truly sorry—our security work was inadequate. We’ll deal with these outsiders immediately—”
Shen Qinghuan raised her head, gave him a look, and raised her voice: “Has anyone called the police?”
The head of security froze. “Huh?”
“Call the police!”
Shen Qinghuan repeated: “They deliberately damaged someone else’s property. The amount involved is enormous—enough to file a case.”
Only then did the people around react, some beginning to pull out their phones.
Shen Qinghuan looked down at the violin, her fingertips gently brushing over the crack on the top plate, fury burning inside her.
Even purely from the standpoint of a violinist, she couldn’t remain indifferent watching such a fine instrument be destroyed.
Not to mention, this was an object of immense sentimental value in the original owner’s memories—and the companion she was about to use in the competition.
“Do you have any idea how precious this violin is?”
She lifted her head, the rims of her eyes red, but she held herself together and refused to let the tears fall.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw slightly tight—she looked both wronged and stubborn.
The livestream camera caught sight of her from a distance, and the comments exploded instantly.
“Ahhh, are Shen Qinghuan’s eyes red?!”
“I thought she was too cold just now, but seeing her like this makes me feel awful.”
“That’s her guqin—her livelihood. If it were me, I’d cry too.”
“Did anyone catch the part where she called the police? So calm and composed. I’m in love.”
“Now that’s a genuine reaction.”
“So dignified earlier, then completely falling apart when she saw the broken qin—what an adorable contrast!”
“Who did this? Someone dig up their identity!”
As the security guards were escorting the troublemakers out, Lu Shiyan was walking over from the other end of the corridor.
He didn’t step into the center of the crowd, but stopped a few paces away.
When Shen Qinghuan stood up holding her qin case, the corner of her eye caught an impossible-to-ignore figure.
A black suit, a tall, slender frame, an aloof and cold demeanor.
She turned her head and met that sharply chiseled face.
“Lu Shiyan?”
The name slipped out of Shen Qinghuan’s mouth, her voice carrying a trace of surprise she herself hadn’t noticed.