Lin Feng didn't go back to his apartment that night.
Not because he didn't want to. But because something in Guo Yuwei's eyes before he left lingered longer than it should have. A faint mix of curiosity and... concern?
She was too calm. Too composed.
And that usually meant someone had gotten really good at pretending.
So instead of heading home, he stopped by a 24-hour milk tea place near campus, sat in a corner booth, and pulled out his phone.
[System: Host, what are you doing? You planning a surprise proposal? Or did you finally decide to confess your deep emotional attachment to bubble tea?]
"Neither," Lin Feng muttered, scrolling through his messages. "I just need to check something."
[System: Let me guess. You're stalking a girl again, aren't you? Honestly, at this point, I should start charging rent for how often these women occupy your brain.]
Lin Feng didn't answer. His finger hovered over a student group chat pinned at the top. He wasn't active in it—barely paid attention to what the rest of the students were up to. But something caught his eye earlier that morning.
A name.
Jiang Yue'er.
A sophomore from the Music Department. Rumors said she once turned down a top talent agency's contract just to stay in school. Lately, though... things had changed. She'd stopped showing up to classes. Some said her family went bankrupt. Others said her father had been arrested. Gossip, mostly.
But Lin Feng remembered her.
He didn't know why. Maybe it was the way she always played the piano in the practice hall when she thought no one was listening. Or maybe because she never once looked up, even when others whispered about her behind her back.
The girl had pride. Quiet pride.
He stood up, finishing the last sip of his drink.
Time to find out the truth.
Most of the campus was asleep. Lights were off, windows dark.
Except one.
Lin Feng stepped quietly into the music building. The place had a weird echo at night. Like memories were trapped in the walls—bits of melody, half-played sonatas, failed recitals.
And there she was.
Jiang Yue'er.
Sitting in front of a dusty grand piano, fingers gently tracing the keys. Not playing. Just… lost.
She hadn't noticed him.
Her long black hair was tied into a messy bun, a few strands falling around her face. She wore a simple cream-colored sweater, a little oversized, sleeves pulled down over her hands like she was trying to hide inside it. Her eyes were red. Not from crying, but from trying not to.
Lin Feng didn't move. Just watched.
Until the system broke the silence.
[System: Host, if this were a drama, now's when you'd sigh loudly and make her drop something so you can heroically pick it up and start a cliché conversation.]
"I'm not doing that," Lin Feng whispered back.
But the noise made Jiang Yue'er turn.
She froze. "…You?"
Lin Feng raised a hand, casually. "Didn't mean to scare you."
She blinked, unsure whether to be annoyed or embarrassed. "You're not from the music department."
"Nope."
"Then why are you here?"
He walked forward, stopping a few steps away. "Wanted to hear you play."
"I'm not performing."
"I know."
There was a silence.
Not awkward. Just… quiet.
Jiang Yue'er looked down at the piano, her fingers curling slightly. "People don't just show up here for no reason."
"I do."
She gave a soft laugh—barely audible. But it was the first time her expression changed.
"I'm not some damsel in distress," she said, voice firm. "If that's what you're thinking."
Lin Feng smirked. "Good. I hate clichés."
She tilted her head. "Then why are you here?"
He leaned against the wall, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Because you look like someone who hasn't been asked what she wants in a long time."
Her lips parted, surprised.
That landed.
For a few seconds, Jiang Yue'er looked like she might brush it off. Maybe joke. Maybe retreat.
But she didn't.
She looked down at the piano and quietly whispered, "I just wanted to keep playing… without everything else falling apart."
Lin Feng didn't offer sympathy. Just a nod.
And then, casually, like it wasn't a big deal—
"I bought a small concert hall. Needs a good pianist."
Jiang Yue'er blinked. "You what?"
Lin Feng shrugged. "Place was going to be torn down. Figured someone should put it to better use."
She stared at him. "…Are you serious?"
"I don't say things I don't mean."
She looked like she wanted to believe him. But people like her had learned not to trust so easily.
Still, she whispered, "What's the catch?"
He smiled. "Play for yourself. Not for them."
Another silence.
Then, softly—
"…Can I try the piano again?"
He nodded.
And as Jiang Yue'er's fingers gently touched the keys, the first notes echoed through the empty hall—soft, fragile, and full of everything she hadn't said.
Lin Feng closed his eyes and listened.
The girl behind the curtain… was finally stepping into the light.