As Su Rui spoke, everyone present grew inexplicably tense. Many wondered what he intended to do.
A counterattack—or rather, an even more powerful slap to the face.
Night had just fallen. The air conditioning in the hall was not strong enough, and sweat beaded on many foreheads. The atmosphere was like war drums sounding across a battlefield.
"Are you... joking..." Deng Hao's expression stiffened, and the muscles between his brows twitched constantly.
"Little Su, enough... Stop making trouble." Hu Yuhua finally spoke up to dissuade him, though a smile was gradually appearing in his eyes.
Su Rui smiled at Deng Hao and Bai Yanyun. The drunkenness in his eyes deepened as he said, "Just stand there and listen. I'll teach you what a world-class master truly looks like."
Deng Hao's face darkened, while Bai Yanyun maintained her last shred of composure and calm.
"Ding..."
Without warning or prelude, Su Rui's fingertips pressed down on the keys. It was the romantic master Beethoven's "Für Elise." He sat quietly beside the piano, gazing at the night scenery outside the window as his fingers danced endlessly across the black and white keys. Every note, every transition, was perfected to the utmost degree.
Everyone fell silent and listened closely.
Faced with Deng Hao and Bai Yanyun's near-idiotic provocations, Su Rui finally erupted. Through his hazy drunkenness, he merely followed the score in his mind and his muscle memory, letting this timelessly beautiful melody echo continuously through the silent hall.
A change gradually came over Deng Hao's eyes.
Embarrassment, stiffness... and anger.
Of course, he could judge whether the piece was good or bad. But precisely because of that, he was furious.
Why? Why were you the same age as me, yet able to reach this level?!
Those who had still harbored doubts finally felt ashamed of their earlier thoughts. This rendition of "Für Elise" was clearly at a higher level than the earlier "A Midsummer Night's Dream." If Su Rui was someone who had spent his whole life practicing only one piece to gain fame, then how could this be explained?
Suddenly, the piano music shifted again.
Before the atmosphere of "Für Elise" had faded, a new melody had already emerged.
The music was mournful, gentle, and beautiful, like a young girl making a sorrowful plea. A pair of lovers had been forced apart by worldly pressures, and in pursuit of happiness, both met their deaths.
In a corner of the hall, someone listened silently, tears streaming down their face.
"Richard Clayderman's... 'Romeo and Juliet.'" Among the crowd, an exquisitely made-up noblewoman in her forties had reddened eyes as she sighed emotionally.
Su Rui's fingertips did not pause in the slightest. One timeless classic after another resounded through the hall.
The melody was soaring, its turns mournful and low... This was "Ballade pour Adeline."
Hazy and light, like a song, like a dream... This was "A Maiden's Prayer."
Warm and pure... This was "Mariage d'Amour."
"Symphony No. 5."
"Swan Lake."
"Symphony No. 5"...
The people in the hall could no longer remain calm. They gradually moved closer and surrounded Su Rui, listening as he played one piece after another, their faces filled with shock and disbelief.
Everyone had ears; they could tell how a piece was played. There were many geniuses in the world, but never, from ancient times to the present, had there been anything like this.
They had heard people play the piano, but never like this.
Performing was absolutely not as simple as pressing the keys corresponding to the notes on the score. To perform a piece perfectly, a musician had to pour their entire being into it and express the emotions deeply. The transitions between pieces required time to separate them as well; otherwise, carrying the emotions of one piece into the next would make the melody sound strange.
That was why, after finishing a piece at most concerts, performers needed to rest for several minutes to adjust their emotions.
Even the world's greatest piano masters could not achieve seamless transitions with such effortless shifts.
Most of the pieces Su Rui performed were not even in the same style. Some were romantic, some solemn, some fervent, some mournful. Yet when he shifted between them, the listeners could not detect the slightest abruptness.
This... was a little too terrifying.
Su Rui did not stop. The way everyone looked at him had become strange. They felt that this young man, his figure hazy beneath the lights, no longer belonged among ordinary mortals, but was an immortal cast down into the world.
Su Rui did not know what was happening around him. He stared at the sky outside the window, then closed his eyes after a moment.
He slowed for a brief moment, then reached out to the side.
"Would you like something to drink?" Li Ruobing asked softly.
"Petrus, the 2010 vintage."
Li Ruobing, holding a wine glass, frowned slightly. It was her favorite winery.
In the past, she had never done such things as serving tea or pouring drinks for others. But Su Rui's performance today made her feel that pouring him a glass of wine was nothing at all.
The richly fragrant wine flowed down Su Rui's throat. His ten fingers spread across the keys, and the piano sounded once more.
From the leisurely serenity of Chopin's nocturne to the fresh joy of Tales from the Vienna Woods; from the harmonious tenderness of Flower of Scotland to the impassioned grandeur of Eroica Symphony...
Within the vast hall, countless lights and shadows seemed to dance through the air, gradually condensing into the figures of piano masters from every age and country—some heroic and dashing, others wild and mad.
This was the accumulation of Su Rui's countless reincarnations. He had endless time. In every life, he could spend an entire lifetime pushing one particular skill to its pinnacle.
Or bring one particular piece to its pinnacle.
The accumulation of countless lives descended upon this hall in such an abrupt manner, striking every person in the heart.
Su Rui suddenly opened his eyes and silently looked at Deng Hao, as though he were also looking at the distant world.
Beethoven, Liszt, Williamson, Chopin...
In the hazy lights, these piano masters seemed to stand behind Su Rui, staring at Deng Hao with extremely indifferent and contemptuous gazes.
As if they were saying, "Did that slap hurt?"
With a crisp clang, Bai Yanyun's trembling hand could no longer hold the wine glass. It fell onto the marble floor and shattered into countless glittering fragments.
Silence.
Complete silence.
No one knew how long it had been, but even after Su Rui's fingertips struck the final note, the people in the hall could not pull themselves free from that frenzied emotion.
Several Young Girls held up phones with the recording function activated, rubbing their aching arms as they looked at Su Rui like he was an immortal.
As though drunk, Su Rui twisted his neck, waggled his fingers, and walked over to Deng Hao. He waved one finger before Deng Hao's nose and asked, "Will you honor the bet?"
The hall remained silent. Su Rui spoke softly, yet every word fell clearly into everyone's ears.
At this point, there was no longer any suspense or dispute over victory and defeat.
From this day forward, no matter how high Deng Hao's musical attainments became, he would never compare to Su Rui, who had seemingly held an entire concert by himself.
As for Deng Hao's earlier slander that Su Rui had practiced only one piece his whole life to gain fame...
Everyone had only one thought in their hearts... Fuck you!
Deng Hao looked at Su Rui as though he were looking at a monster. His eyes dimmed, and for some reason, his chest suddenly tightened as a metallic sweetness filled his throat.
"..." Under everyone's watchful eyes, Deng Hao clenched his fists until they turned pale. Breathing heavily, he gritted his teeth and nodded.
"Good." Su Rui smiled and patted Deng Hao on the shoulder. The smile at the corner of his lips carried a hint of mischief. "As for the punishment..."
"You and Miss Bai will sing 'Where is the Road?' together."
Before you continue