Yi An grabbed the boy's right hand and pressed it to the piano keys, the Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet on his wrist wrapped around his swollen little finger.
Ye Qingliu pressed the sustain pedal in severe pain, and the roaring chords startled the white peacock outside the window.
Chen Chunhua was shocked when she saw the photo on the music stand - the nineteen-year-old Hua Yueyao was taking her bow in the Golden Hall, and Yi An was standing in the shadow of the curtain, his fingers twisting the pearl necklace that was now digging into Ye Qingliu's flesh.
"Play it again." Yi An picked up the music score with the tip of her diamond brooch. "You missed the crescendo she marked." Blood seeped from the punctured paper, flowing over the wavy coils drawn by Hua Yueyao in rose-colored ink.
"Do you know why she chose the third movement?" Yi An stroked the crack on the window. "That's the one she played before she died."
Yi An suddenly ripped open the button of Ye Qingliu's shirt, revealing a light red scar. "Look! Even the mark from the hot water is exactly the same!"
Yi An suddenly clamped Ye Qingliu's jaw with his hand. A crescent-shaped red mark immediately appeared on Ye Qingliu's delicate face, like silk torn by a rose thorn.
"This teardrop mole..." She ran her thumb over the small brown mole, her nail digging into the pale skin. "It should have been removed with sulfuric acid back then."
Ye Qingliu bit his lip in a struggle, blood splattering on Yi An's snow-white collar. She increased her strength, scratching the boy's cheek with her diamond-studded nails, and pressed his face against the music sheet.
"Look carefully! These markings were written three days before she died—" Hua Yueyao's handwriting, twisted in German letters, transformed into roses amidst the bloodshot, "If you play a wrong note, she'll have another crack."
In a trance, Yi An seemed to see that familiar figure again. On the grand stage, at the age of nineteen, she was welcoming people's praise.
She threw Ye Qingliu roughly to the ground.
Lin Manqing's high heels caught in the tangled pattern of the Persian carpet. When Yi An once again lifted the heavy bronze music stand, Chen Chunhua finally rushed over and hugged Ye Qingliu—the music stand brushed past them and smashed against the bulletproof glass window, cracks spreading into the arpeggio patterns that her cousin Hua Yueyao was best at.
Dusk poured in through the cracked window, casting a blood-red veil over the Steinway piano. The last thing Ye Qingliu saw before fainting was Yi An wrapping the pearl necklace around his neck and murmuring, "How wonderful! Now you'll never escape her shadow."
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