The piano music continued to echo throughout the Yifu Building.
Within the darkened Yifu Building, the notes stretched farther and farther, flowing slowly, as smooth as water—sometimes delicate and profound, sometimes dazzling and colorful, sometimes distant and awe-inspiring, sometimes solemn and sorrowful. They seeped into time and space, stirring the heart, as though drawing out the emotion and attachment buried deep within the soul.
The scene before everyone's eyes suddenly shifted.
Thirty-five years ago, outside a kindergarten.
A father held his son's little hand as he listened to the kindergarten teacher's angry complaints. "Your son causes trouble every day. Yesterday he broke a toy, and today he poured vegetable soup onto a bed..."
The son turned his head and stole a glance at his father, not quite daring to meet his eyes.
After a while, the teacher finally left, and the father took something out of his pocket.
"Crab-shell pastries!" the son cheered.
The father stroked his son's head and smiled without a word.
Thirty years ago, in the courtyard.
The father looked at his son and shouted, "Come on, you little rascal! Try to steal the ball!"
As he spoke, he dribbled the ball as though showing off. His son chased him, panting. After finally managing to steal it, the boy tripped and fell.
After their game, father and son gulped down cool water. The father proudly patted his son's shoulder. "Well? Think you can beat me in another five years?"
The son said nothing. His face was filled with admiration.
Twenty-five years ago, at home.
His face covered in acne, the son stood there indifferently, watching his mother weep and his father fly into a rage. "With grades like these, you still think you're in the right?"
The son said nothing, merely glaring at his father.
The father