The three words dropped into the livestream, and the comments exploded all over again.
“Lu Shiyan? The Lu Shiyan from Shangjing’s richest family?”
“No way, no way—the trillion-yuan CEO himself?”
“Jingda’s principal is his uncle, so it’s not surprising he’d come to Jingda.”
“Wait, didn’t Shen Qinghuan break off their engagement before?”
“One’s a trillion-yuan CEO, the other’s an heiress from a powerful family. It blew up on trending searches back then—this meeting must be so awkward.”
Shen Qinghuan looked at the man before her as the original owner’s memories surged up in her mind.
Lu Shiyan, the head of the Lu family, the top family in the Jingquan, who had taken over the entire business empire at a young age.
He wielded immense power, yet was cold, aloof, and dignified—like the moon high in the sky, an existence countless heiresses and socialites in the capital longed for but could never reach.
But a year ago, for Lin Chen’s sake, the original owner had thrown the engagement termination papers in Lu Shiyan’s face in front of all the Jingquan elite, saying every cruel thing she could.
Since then, Lu Shiyan had never come looking for her again.
Shen Qinghuan came back to her senses, set the violin case aside, took a deep breath, and stopped looking at him.
She lowered her head, pulled out her phone, and dialed the police.
Her voice was steady and clear—giving the address, explaining the situation, estimating the losses—all in one smooth flow.
After hanging up, she crouched down and carefully closed the violin case.
Lu Shiyan stood where he was, his gaze sweeping over the corners of her reddened eyes before landing on the closed case.
He said nothing, only turned and left.
The chatter of a few Jingda girls drifted over from nearby.
“Is that Shen Qinghuan’s ex-fiancé? He’s so handsome…”
“Way more handsome than Lin Chen, honestly. Did Shen Qinghuan have something wrong with her eyes back then?”
“Did you see how he kept looking at Shen Qinghuan? Maybe he still hasn’t let go?”
Lu Shiyan walked away expressionlessly, avoiding the cameras’ range.
The comments started up again.
“That silhouette is so handsome too!”
“Did anyone catch Lu’s face? Screenshots, please!”
“That profile alone is enough to keep me fed for ages.”
Principal Lu also came hurrying down from the other end of the corridor, followed by several school administrative staff.
He glanced at the thugs being escorted away, his face livid.
“What’s going on here? The school has proper security procedures—how did outside thugs get let in at a time like this?”
The head of security hung his head, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Principal Lu waved his hand.
“Tighten security. Re-check every entrance. If any more outsiders slip in, the security company is fired on the spot!”
Just as he finished speaking, a staff member from the concert hall came running over, walkie-talkie in hand, looking anxious.
“Student Shen, you’re up next—please hurry to the backstage and get ready—”
Shen Qinghuan raised her head and pointed at the case on the ground. “My violin is broken.”
The staff member’s face froze. He looked at the case on the ground, then at Shen Qinghuan, wringing his hands in panic.
“What… what do we do? You’re up any minute now…”
Shen Qinghuan stood up and took a deep breath.
“Do you have a violin here I could borrow?”
The staff member nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, yes! We have two practice violins backstage. They’re not great, but they’re playable.”
Shen Qinghuan picked up the case and followed the staff member toward the backstage.
In the shadows at the other end of the corridor, Lu Shiyan leaned against the wall, watching her departing figure.
He lowered his eyes, silent for two seconds, then took out his phone and made a call.
“Go to my car and bring that violin over.”
On the other end of the line, the assistant was clearly taken aback. “Lu, you mean that—”
“Yes. Send it to the backstage.”
“But that violin is your…”
“Go. Now.”
After hanging up, Lu Shiyan put his phone back in his pocket and left without a word.
Backstage, Shen Qinghuan was testing the spare violins.
The first one had a muffled tone, its pitch as dry and raspy as sawing wood.
The second was slightly better, but the resonance from its top plate was clearly poor.
Shen Qinghuan frowned and set down the second violin.
“Is there nothing else?”
The staff member looked embarrassed. “These are the only two…”
Shen Qinghuan closed her eyes briefly, thanked them, picked up the slightly better violin, and turned to head out.
Just as she reached the backstage entrance, a man in a white suit stopped her.
The man wore gold-rimmed glasses and carried a black violin case, its leather gleaming with a fine luster under the lights.
“Miss Shen, this was sent over on our Lu’s orders.”
Shen Qinghuan froze for a moment.
Without further explanation, the man opened the lacquered, gold-inlaid case.
Resting in the velvet lining was a violin, its body coated in a rich reddish-brown varnish, the grain of the wood fine and even, without a single flaw from scroll to tailpiece.
The bridge was clearly hand-carved, its patterns intricate and exquisite, and the pegs were inlaid with pure white mother-of-pearl, refracting the mellow luster of age under the light.
The maker of this violin… was a master luthier from Kremonna, Italy, three hundred years ago.
Fewer than ten of that master’s works survive in the world today—every single one is museum-grade!
Shen Qinghuan’s pupils dilated slightly.
She recognized the violin immediately.
In the original owner’s memory, three years ago, this violin had appeared at a top overseas auction, selling for a price enough to buy an entire office building in the heart of Jingcheng.
Who the buyer was, no one knew. By the time the original owner’s family learned the news, it was too late.
The original owner had been driven mad with longing over it, dwelling on it for weeks.
“…There’s no time to thank you properly, Secretary Song. Tell Lu that I will find a way to repay this great debt!”
Shen Qinghuan didn’t stand on ceremony. She took the violin from the case and held it in her arms.
The body pressed against her arm, the warm feel of the wood seeping through her clothes, like the temperature of something alive.
She turned and strode toward the concert hall.
Under the spotlight, Yu Heng lounged in his chair at the judges’ table, sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead, revealing a pair of cold eyes.
Watching the girl in the black dress walk onto the stage holding the violin, his eyebrows moved almost imperceptibly.
“That’s a borrowed violin, isn’t it?”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly through the entire concert hall.
Shen Qinghuan stopped and looked at him calmly. “Yes.”
Yu Heng leaned back in his chair, his voice cool and thin:
“A violin is a performer’s second life. Swapping in a better instrument at the last minute—is this how you treat your own life?”
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Jiang Rong frowned, glancing sideways at Yu Heng, wanting to say something, but holding back in front of the cameras.
Shen Qinghuan’s fingers tightened slightly around the bow, her chin lifting a little.
“The violin is borrowed, but I know my skill never changes. That’s enough.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word landed with weight: “Judge, please hear me out before passing judgment.”
Yu Heng stared at her for two seconds, said nothing, and let out an unreadable cold laugh.
She couldn’t stand people who mistook cruelty for sophistication!
Shen Qinghuan paid him no more attention. She raised the instrument to her shoulder and closed her eyes.
The bow came down.