I'm listening carefully, Teacher Lin Tian.
At this very moment.
Mao Wei'ang sat behind Gan Yan Yu with his eyes closed, concentrating.
Never before had he listened to that young woman perform from such close range.
Gan Yan Yu, nineteen years old, from Qingzhou.
She had never attended the music conservatory for even a single day.
Yet she possessed musical talent that made countless performers ashamed of themselves and fiercely envious.
Such talent, even across the entirety of world music history.
Could likely appear only once every three hundred years.
During the opening stage of the Dragon Qin Cup, when Mao Wei'ang had first seen Gan Yan Yu perform from backstage.
He had known.
His cello would never surpass the young woman before him, not in his entire life.
She was so dazzling that merely watching her stand onstage and perform made it impossible to look away.
Her "performance" itself was no longer merely "sound"; it was equally a thing of supreme allure.
Her "sound" was merely a tool.
Its purpose was to draw everyone into a world that belonged to her.
The world she revealed was what truly intoxicated every listener.
At this moment,
the young woman's cello began to dance.
Gradually,
Mao Wei'ang's vision became shrouded by windblown sand.
The sandstorm raged so fiercely that he could not open his eyes.
And when Mao Wei'ang opened them again.
The stage around him had transformed into an entirely different scene.
Dust filled the air, and as far as the eye could see stretched a vast desert.
Mao Wei'ang was stunned.
He stood in the middle of that desert, beneath the scorching sun, his feet sinking into soft, burning sand.
Everything was terrifyingly real.
As a sharp "whoosh—" cut past his ear.
Mao Wei'ang turned his head and suddenly saw