Chapter 606: Precious Tears

Zhou Shihe had arrived sometime earlier, standing with the two of them at the backstage entrance watching Master Wu's live performance.

Originally, the three had reserved seats in the front audience area, but since they were the fourth act, they chose not to sit up front and decided to wait until after the performance to avoid the hassle of moving back and forth.

Yu Shuheng glanced at Zhou Shihe; she knew deep down this girl's piano talent was terrifying—having heard "Butterfly Lovers" in Lushan Village too, though their emotional expression differed, she matched Master Wu Yili perfectly.

The second piece was "I Love China"; as soon as it began, many patriotic overseas Chinese and ethnic Chinese in the audience were stirred to tears, eyes glistening.

The third piece was "On the Songhua River," a classic revolutionary song from the War of Resistance expressed through piano.

Just before going on stage, Yu Shuheng asked with concern: "Alright, it's our turn—Li Heng, Shihe, are you ready?"

Li Heng smiled, revealing a row of even, white teeth.

He then turned to Zhou Shihe, who gave a sweet nod.

We're ready!

As the host announced their name, as Master Wu Yili stepped back slowly, as the stage lights dimmed, the three walked onto the stage in orderly fashion amid thunderous applause.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

"Clap! Clap! Clap…"

Applause erupted!

Extremely enthusiastic!

The audience's emotion soared; from the moment Li Heng and his two companions appeared, applause never ceased, forcing them to pause repeatedly and delay their performance.

Li Heng had expected to be popular—he'd already been primed during the red carpet walk—but the atmosphere and cheers on-site still overwhelmed him; he silently marveled: So I'm this famous abroad!

"So cultured."

"Mr. Li's facial features are perfect!"

Whether male or female, old or young, politician or celebrity, industry titan or ordinary spectator—all present unconsciously agreed on one thought: these words surfaced simultaneously in their minds.

And when their eyes turned to Zhou Shihe behind the piano on the left, everyone's gaze brightened further.

A shared thought arose: This woman is a child of heaven, not meant for this mortal world.

The Prince of Brunei kept glancing between Li Heng and Zhou Shihe, head drooping, expression despondent.

Matsuzaka Keiko, Japan's reigning female star, hailed as "Japan's Number One Beauty," upon seeing Zhou Shihe, thought: If this woman had been born in Japan, she'd have crushed the entire entertainment industry under her weight.

A friend quietly asked Wu Yili: "They held hands—do they date?"

Wu Yili gave a knowing smile and replied: "What do you think of them?"

The friend answered: "They're perfectly matched—clearly meant for each other."

Zhou Shihe's beauty delivered a powerful visual impact to the audience.

Yet Yu Shuheng's scholarly aura quieted every man and stirred no jealousy in any woman.

It's said beautiful women aren't necessarily elegant, but elegant women are undeniably the most beautiful—and the most unforgettable.

Beauty + scholarly aura + Eastern grace = the highest form of beauty.

What are French roses? Parisian fashion? Marlene Dietrich? Black Forest fairy tale princesses? Tokyo geishas? Their earthly allure pales before Eastern aristocratic beauty.

This is the true depth of five thousand years of Chinese cultural heritage.

Yu Shuheng truly embodied this truth: Elegance never grows old—this is the real goddess.

The trio—one man, two women—stepped onto the stage and instantly silenced the entire audience of politicians, celebrities, and tycoons, who sat like obedient schoolchildren, heads raised in awe.

Wu Yili stared at Yu Shuheng, brimming with scholarly grace, still finding it hard to believe: How could a woman like this fall for her own student? Teacher-student romance?

As the audience gradually held their breath and stilled their minds, movement began on stage.

Amid universal anticipation, Zhou Shihe slowly placed her hands on the piano, composed herself for several seconds, then her slender fingers danced like spirits across the black and white keys.

Instantly, a beautiful piano melody swept over everyone's heart like spring wind, drawing them into a dream world woven by music.

Soon after, the erhu joined in, its voice like a narrative, weeping and lamenting, deeply gripping every soul.

Love's blossom is dazzling, yet these lovers in the Street Where the Wind Lives must end before they even begin—leaving listeners sighing over lost years, aging time. Yet that burning love still waits quietly for his return; in the music, the two never hear each other's voice again in their remaining lives.

The entire piece rests on the piano as foundation, with the erhu leaping above it.

They are like lovers, whispering their hearts through notes—the piano murmurs softly, dreamlike; Zhou Shihe, utterly immersed, felt as if someone whispered confessions beside her ear, kissed her lips, embraced her from behind, stared at her in daze, called her name in sleep—here, he loved her alone.

In this musical dream, she shed all pretense, dropped all reservations, quietly watched him, heart pounding, until finally she closed her eyes, letting him kiss her—without slapping him…

In this piano piece, she tasted love; without realizing it, a faint shadow had quietly formed in her heart; without realizing it, she'd quietly shifted much of her attention toward him.

But in reality, she knew her place.

Yet in this piano piece, she could fully bloom as a girl—she could plainly lay bare her heart: she didn't dislike his pursuit, otherwise she wouldn't have cooked for him, wouldn't have accompanied him on his album, wouldn't have rushed to Lushan Village on the third day of the New Year, wouldn't have cohabited with him in Jingcheng, wouldn't have danced with him… wouldn't have absurdly asked him to write a note after being kissed…

This afternoon she tore up the note.

But during the red carpet walk, he held her hand twice.

Back and forth, sip and swallow—it seemed fate itself had always maintained their connection.

Piano and erhu intertwined, dynamic and profound, tender and low, alternating like two lovers who adored and missed each other, yet lived in Jiangnan and the northern frontier.

Midway through the piece, Zhou Shihe, struggling to restrain herself, was finally moved by the sorrow in the score and couldn't help glancing at him.

Li Heng felt it instantly and turned to meet her gaze at once.

Their eyes locked—both hearts squeezed tight, gazes entangled—whose street did the wind blow through? Memories surged like smoke, flooding in…

Remember that day, mist veiled the path, rain fell bleakly.

Raindrops pattered on her oiled paper umbrella as you smiled at me from the pavilion.

Who tangled with three women yet whispered in the private room: "I fell for Zhou Shihe at first sight."

Across the ends of the earth, raising a cup to the wind—who unfurled a scroll and poured out longing: Shihe, I've fallen for you.

Yet then he turned and lay upon another woman?

Thoughts churned; at this moment, Zhou Shihe lowered her gaze. In that instant, a tear welled in her eye—but she forced it back, refusing to let it fall.

Perhaps, years later, when she recalls, the emotion of her youth remains the only warmth in her hands on winter nights.

Perhaps, who hasn't had a Street Where the Wind Lives in their past?

When the gaze broke, Li Heng felt boundless melancholy—as if his heart had been hollowed out.

Yu Shuheng watched every gesture between them, suddenly overwhelmed by deep helplessness: she'd thought she hadn't lost in this Singapore trip—but just now, Li Heng and Shihe's silent gaze told her: she'd lost.

Even if Zhou Shihe never saw him again, that moment of suffocating eye contact would remain forever in his heart.

Now, Yu Shuheng confirmed one thing: it wasn't just Li Heng's one-sided effort; his seemingly wasted efforts hadn't been in vain—even the peerless Zhou Shihe had once been moved. But they were too reserved—so reserved they were nearly invisible, buried deep in dust…

Yu Shuheng didn't remember how she got through the second half; fortunately, in this piece, she was merely a supporting player—the true stars were the piano and erhu; her presence made little difference.

When Teacher Yu came back to herself, the audience was already erupting in applause.