The moment she stepped off the stage, the spotlight’s glow slid from her shoulders, and the early autumn chill of the corridor pressed against her.
Shen Qinghuan cradled the priceless violin and let out a long breath.
The feel of the strings still lingered in her hands, her fingertips slightly warm, as if she had just finished an exhilarating run.
Since her transmigration into the book, this was the first time she had felt a sense of belonging and worth.
To her, the violin was not just a tool, nor merely a means of making a living—it was one of the few things in the world that truly belonged to her.
Shen Qinghuan had no idea that hundreds of thousands of comments had already flooded the livestream chat because of her.
She had played with such ease that the anger she’d felt before going on stage had faded considerably.
As she walked, a cold, indifferent face suddenly flashed through Shen Qinghuan’s mind.
Yu Heng.
Shen Qinghuan’s steps slowed.
She remembered now.
In the original novel, Yu Heng was a superstar-level young musician and an internationally renowned prodigy composer.
He was also the only mentor on the variety show Sheng Yao Dian Feng who had shown a lukewarm reaction to Bai Anqi.
In the original story, Bai Anqi had tried to get closer to him, baking cookies herself and delivering them backstage, but Yu Heng hadn’t even glanced at them.
He had mocked the female lead, saying, “I’m here to listen to music, not to eat cheap fat-laden cookies.”
Because of this, many of Bai Anqi’s fans had labeled him a “villain,” cursing him as mean-spirited and cold-hearted.
Later, Yu Heng fell ill, his hearing began to deteriorate, and he gradually withdrew from the music world.
Bai Anqi’s fans had cheered, saying he got what he deserved.
Shen Qinghuan frowned.
She didn’t like that plotline.
Someone who hadn’t truly done anything wrong falling ill and losing his hearing could hardly be called getting what he deserved.
She kept walking, and the original owner’s memories surfaced again.
In elementary school, Father Shen and Mother Shen had taken her to visit an orphanage.
It was an institution the Shen family had long supported, delivering supplies and donations every year.
The original owner had been only eight at the time, her hair in two little pigtails, trailing behind her parents in a pretty princess dress.
Among a group of children, she had spotted a quiet, taciturn boy.
It was unmistakably a young Yu Heng.
He was two years older than the original owner, thin and tall, standing in a corner, speaking to no one.
While the other children scrambled for snacks, he held a tattered music theory book, engrossed in it.
The original owner found him strange and leaned over to look—it was a hand-copied score, the handwriting crooked and messy.
She had said, “The notes you drew are so ugly!”
The boy glanced up at her and said nothing.
Later, Mother Shen handed him a box of pastries, and he hesitated for a long while before accepting it.
The original owner had muttered beside him, “Big brother, remember to eat them, don’t go hungry and get skinny,” and Little Yu Heng’s ears had turned slightly red.
After that, Father Shen and Mother Shen would occasionally mention that boy.
With their support, Yu Heng was admitted to a music academy’s affiliated middle school, and his violin teacher praised his exceptional talent.
In his teens, Yu Heng won a scholarship to compete abroad.
The original owner had been busy practicing violin and playing with her friends back then, letting all that talk go in one ear and out the other.
Later still, Mother Shen once mentioned that Yu Heng, now successful in his career, had visited the Shen family after returning to the country, coming specifically to thank them for their support.
The original owner hadn’t been home that day—she was at a friend’s birthday party.
Standing in the corridor, Shen Qinghuan dug up these memories and pieced them together.
The original owner had no memory of Yu Heng, yet Yu Heng clearly remembered her.
Had those words on stage just now been because the original owner had once severed all ties with her parents, and he couldn’t stand to watch it either?
Shen Qinghuan didn’t much care what Yu Heng thought of her, but her opinion of him had shifted a little.
Not because of his talent, but because a child who had come out of an orphanage, after achieving fame, still felt gratitude toward the Shen family parents who had helped him in his darkest days.
That kind of heart wasn’t something everyone had.
At the corner of the corridor, several contestants who had just finished performing were huddled together looking at their phones. When they saw Shen Qinghuan approach, they all looked up at once.
“Shen Qinghuan, you were amazing just now!” A girl with a ponytail’s eyes were shining. “I heard it from backstage—my scalp went numb.”
“Even Yu Heng held up a sign for you. Incredible!” Another boy gave a thumbs-up.
Shen Qinghuan smiled. “Thank you. Good luck to you all too.”
She didn’t stop to chat, her steps steady as she walked on.
At the entrance of the backstage reception room, Assistant Song stood waiting. Seeing her approach, he gave a slight bow.
“Miss Shen, congratulations on advancing.”
Shen Qinghuan, holding the violin case, looked at him earnestly. “Thank you. Please return this violin to Mr. Lu for me.”
Assistant Song smiled. “Miss Shen, Mr. Lu’s meaning is that since you’ve already used this violin, he has no wish to take it back.”
Assistant Song had originally assumed that after saying this, the young woman before him would be overjoyed.
Or, alternatively, this famous Miss Shen would be as spoiled and willful as she had been a year ago, believing that Mr. Lu was humiliating her by doing this.
Shen Qinghuan was taken aback.
As expected of the most mysterious and coldest man in the original book—toward her, a former fiancée, he had not only helped her out of a tight spot, but had been so generous as well.
But still…
Shen Qinghuan shook her head, her tone calm yet firm:
“I appreciate Mr. Lu’s kind intentions, but this violin is far too valuable. I can’t accept it. Please thank Mr. Lu for me—I’ll remember this favor.”
Assistant Song opened his mouth to say something, but Shen Qinghuan had already opened the case.
The reddish-brown antique violin lay quietly in the velvet, every detail gleaming under the light.
She gave it one more deep look, then closed the lid.
“No matter how valuable or how well-suited it is, this isn’t mine. Once I’m done using it, I should return it.”
Assistant Song hesitated. “Miss Shen, you should know Mr. Lu’s character. He never takes back anything he’s given away.”
Shen Qinghuan held the case out to him and smiled:
“Then please ask him to keep it safe for me. Once I’ve saved up enough money, I’ll go buy it from him!”
Assistant Song was stunned.
Shen Qinghuan pushed the case into his hands and stepped back. “Oh, and tell Mr. Lu for me—thank you very much for being such a kind person.”
With that, she turned and walked off, afraid Assistant Song might shove the violin back into her hands.
The assistant stood there holding the case, his expression complicated.
After returning the violin, Shen Qinghuan hummed the piece she’d just played as she pulled out her phone and glanced at a campus notification.
Contestants who had passed the auditions could collect a three-thousand-yuan cash prize at the finance office before four in the afternoon.
She did the math and decided to head over right away.
Her phone buzzed again. It was a message from Su You.
“When exactly are you finishing? I’ve booked the restaurant—don’t make me wait too long.”
Shen Qinghuan’s lips curved as she replied: “Almost done. First I’ll collect some money, then give a statement.”
Su You replied instantly: “Collect what money?”
“The audition prize is three thousand yuan!”
The other person is typing…
The chat interface flashed for a long while, and finally Su You sent over a string of ellipses.
“…Do you want me to transfer you some money right now?”
Shen Qinghuan smiled and put her phone away.
There weren’t many people in line at the finance office.
The staff member checked her contestant number and ID card, counted out thirty crisp hundred-yuan bills from a drawer, sealed them in an envelope, and handed it to her.