Yu Jiamu withdrew his gaze, glanced at him sideways, and chuckled, "You have quite a wide network of connections."

After the keyboard performance ended, a crowd swarmed onto the stage. Some were busy moving the large instruments, while technical instructors surrounded the students, explaining any problems that had occurred during the performance.

A man with a megaphone stood at the front and shouted, "Next group, strings, prepare!"

"Let's go." Yu Jiamu suddenly missed that idiot Chen Xinji. Why not go see how he's sobered up, and while he's at it, see that little mute?

Just as he turned around, a voice suddenly came from the loudspeaker: "Ling Zhen, you stay right here!"

Yu Jiamu stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the stage.

He spotted the figure he was looking for in the crowded throng at a glance.

Today she wore a white Peter Pan collar blouse and faded jeans, her long hair tied back in a low ponytail with a black hair tie. Perhaps because of rehearsals, she also wore a pair of the oldest kind of oval-framed glasses clipped to her nose.

Yu Jiamu chuckled at his silly, bookish look.

But as soon as the music started, she transformed completely. She raised her hand, placed the violin on her left collarbone, tilted her head slightly, rested her chin on her cheek rest, and revealed a face as clear and white as jade.

Unadorned strands of hair slipped down her cheek, rising and falling gently with her breath. Her right hand moved slowly across the bow, her elbow bobbing back and forth like a butterfly's wings about to flutter.

As the music intensified, the soft stage lighting somehow coalesced into beams, casting a shadow on her focused profile.

Yu Jiamu considers himself an ordinary person. He occasionally deals with art only as a business transaction. He has no interest in so-called high art and has no ability to appreciate it.

But at this moment, his mind was completely captivated, and he was truly immersed in the performance.

He only snapped out of his daze when the music suddenly stopped.

Yu Jiamu stood in the back row of the audience, feeling the sound of his heart beating in his chest.

Just then, a man carrying roses walked past him.