Gao Hongyi was currently wiping the piano.
The international student from Saudi Arabia who had just finished wasn’t ugly; on the contrary, his deep, three-dimensional features and calm demeanor were extremely attractive in this aristocratic school.
One could even say he was quite popular.
But that had nothing to do with her.
She didn’t like touching any traces left by the opposite sex.
It wasn’t just germaphobia; it was more like a near-instinctive repulsion, an absolute demarcation of boundaries.
A soft handkerchief moved slowly across the black lacquer.
Her movements weren’t hurried, but they were incredibly meticulous.
The edge of the piano lid, the wood grain of the bench, and even the tiny, almost imperceptible fingerprints on the metal pedals were wiped away inch by inch.
She showed no emotion, her expression as calm as if she were completing an ordinary task.
It wasn’t simple cleaning.
It was a confirmation.
A confirmation that the scents that didn’t belong to her had completely vanished, and that this piano had returned to a state of purity, reserved for her use alone.
Time passed quietly in the hall.
For a full 3 minutes.
No one spoke up to hurry her, nor did anyone show a look of impatience.
The 200-seat auditorium was silent, almost pious.
It was as if waiting itself was a great honor. St. George’s International School never lacked geniuses.
And Gao Hongyi was the best among them.
Geniuses possess a natural immunity.
They can be late, they can be silent, and they can act in breathtaking ways without offering any explanation.
Their stubbornness is called personality, and their coldness is interpreted as nobility.
A genius is worth waiting for and worth forgiving.
In some people’s hearts, even a perfunctory cold word from a genius is worth more than the carefully prepared praise of a mediocre person.
When the cleaning was finished, she stood up straight.
The hall remained silent.
It was as if those 3 minutes were only natural.
She didn’t smile.
Her expression was flat and restrained, and her cold eyes appeared exceptionally clear under the lights.
Out of her upbringing and respect for music itself, she faced the audience and let her hands fall naturally.
She gave a very slight bow — the degree was not large, but the proportions were just right.
It was neither fawning nor ostentatious.
Then she turned and sat at the piano, her back straight and her fingertips suspended above the keys.
“Uncle Bai…”
“I really want to go back early and see you…”
The voice was so quiet that almost only she could hear it, like a sigh escaping from her lips.
The eyes of the audience fell on her in unison.
Some subconsciously straightened their backs, while others’ Adam’s apples rolled slightly.
Every time they heard Gao Hongyi’s piano solo, it was as if they were taken to a dreamlike world — her own domain, clean, pure, yet dangerous.
Gao Hongyi and the piano were almost a match made in heaven.
She straightened her skirt and the hem of her clothes with meticulous care.
Her navy blue school uniform jacket fit her shoulder line perfectly, the solid gold school badge shimmered slightly on her chest, and her dark cherry-blossom red hair slid down her shoulders like silk ribbons kissed by the light.
Even young ladies from equally prominent backgrounds found it difficult to feel jealous of her at this moment.
That gap wasn’t merely a matter of appearance or talent; it was a suppression of hierarchy.
They could only look up.
They could only remain silent.
Gao Hongyi’s hands fell slowly.
A beautiful piano piece began to flow through the hall.
‘Why do I still have to stay in this place?’
She bit her red lip lightly.
‘The meaning of living isn’t to perform for you mediocre people.’
She only wanted to play a solo for her beloved on a quiet afternoon.
Before taking the stage, Gu Yebai still hadn’t replied to her messages.
What on earth was he doing?
This thought swirled repeatedly in her mind.
‘Ah, I really want to go home early.’
‘I really want to leave school early.’
‘Go home, open the door, and confirm that Uncle Bai is in the living room. It doesn’t matter what expression he wears when he sees me. If he’s happy because I returned to his side, that’s naturally good. If he pretends to be cold or even shows a bit of impatience, that’s fine too.’
‘Anyway, Uncle Bai will like me sooner or later.’
‘As long as I use forceful means to occupy his body or restrict his right to go out freely, he will obediently understand that resistance is meaningless…’
Gao Hongyi’s fingertips rose and fell gracefully on the keys, the melody flowing with precision.
However, her thoughts were not on the music at all.
As she played, she traced the route home in her mind, imagining the sound of the lock turning and the expression on Gu Yebai’s face when he looked up.
‘Ah, I really want to pull that pitiful and lovely man into my arms again! I’ll hold him tight and won’t let go, even if it hurts him.’
The piano music echoed in the hall.
And her heart had long since flown in another direction.
Nevertheless, the notes still performed their duties.
Even though Gao Hongyi was thinking about something else entirely, playing the piano was an instinct.
It was Debussy’s Clair de Lune.
The melody spread slowly under her fingertips, unhurried, as if the night were quietly falling.
It was currently broad daylight, and the sunlight outside the window was bright and clear.
Yet, in a certain moment, the audience seemed to see moonlight pouring down from the window frames, see the lamp at the end of the hallway that had been lit for a long time, and see those scenes they once cherished so much but could no longer touch resurface.
The air became soft.
Time felt stretched.
Suddenly, tears welled up in someone’s eyes.
“So that’s how it is…” someone murmured in a low voice.
“Mom, I finally see you again.”
Tsukisetsu Soma, sitting in the front row of the audience, suddenly started crying.
Those black and white eyes were filled with long-repressed regrets.
His shoulders trembled slightly, but he made no attempt to hide it.
“Don’t be afraid, Big Brother will protect you…”
The kendo club member sitting next to him also murmured in an enchanted whisper, as if returning to a moment long gone.
A girl who was usually extremely restrained suddenly stood up and stood on her tiptoes, spinning gently in place.
Her movements weren’t exaggerated, but they carried a certain weightless lightness.
Like moonlight falling on the water’s surface.
As she spun, she softly called out, “Moonlight, oh, moonlight.”
It wasn’t madness.
It was more like a release.
In Gao Hongyi’s piano music, everyone saw something different.
Some saw moonlight spilling over a lake.
Some saw the towers of a distant castle.
Some saw fragments of memories sealed by time for many years.
Deceased relatives stood in the light, smiling.
Past lovers who were destined to be apart walked toward them again.
Those paths that could not be retraced seemed to be gently reversed in the melody.
Gao Hongyi’s music was like a hidden passage, allowing people to return briefly to the past, giving unspoken goodbyes a second chance, and letting those who had long since departed stand before them once more.
“Hallelujah,” the fencing captain, Adrian, whispered.
His tone was almost pious, as if he were standing under a cathedral dome.
Even the piano professor from Paris closed his eyes, his head swaying slowly and rhythmically with the pace, as if he had entered a world where no one would disturb him.
And Gao Hongyi continued to play.
Her expression was quiet, as if she had nothing to do with any of this.
She poured all her emotions into the melody.
The piano was the amplifier of her emotions.
In her mind, she imagined a world for just her and Gu Yebai.
She imagined the night they first met online.
When she first read Gu Yebai’s words, the lights at home were dim, and she had hidden under the covers, covering her mouth as tears slid down uncontrollably.
It wasn’t because of sadness.
It was because she suddenly understood that there really was someone in this world who could capture her soul with words.
That feeling was softer than moonlight, yet firmer than an oath.
Since then, her heart had been quietly connected to the boy on the other side of the internet.
No matter how much space opened up between them.
No matter how much time passed.
That invisible thread had never broken.
In the past, and in the future.
‘We will always be together, won’t we?’
While playing, Gao Hongyi remembered the anxiety she felt when she learned she wasn’t her parents’ biological daughter.
She also thought of the wild joy she felt when she saw that boy named Gu Yebai in Linchuan County.
In the future, they would always be together.
They would go to Paris to study together, live together, and travel together.
Gao Hongyi would be responsible for world tours, while Gu Yebai would be a travel writer.
There would be so many stories.
They would share an umbrella in the rain of a foreign country, they would make up in bed after an argument in the kitchen late at night, they would embrace in a small tent until dawn, and their names would leave different stories on every inch of the earth…
Never to be separated.
‘Ah, if I die one day… I must carve Gu Yebai’s name into my bones before I pass.’
‘I really love him, love him, love him, love him so much!’
Why can’t school be over yet?
There was only one most urgent thing.
Meeting Gu Yebai after school.
That longing surged through her chest like a tide.
She didn’t say it aloud.
She just continued to play.
But that longing was like something quietly carried by the melody.
It flowed from the keys and into the air.