Chapter 620: Love, Unknowingly Begun, Deeply Enduring

February 25.

Afternoon, three o’clock, Royal Concert Hall in Amsterdam.

As the stage lights dimmed, the vast concert hall gradually fell silent; all audience members lifted their heads to gaze at the host at the center of the stage.

The host, a guest conductor of the Philharmonic Orchestra, held the microphone and spoke with deep emotion to the audience below:

“Oh! Today is extraordinary—everyone here is an elite from across Europe’s industries, and I know why you’ve all come. After waiting for months, we’ve finally reached the greatest moment: please welcome the legendary music master Mr. Li and his two beautiful partners, Miss Yu and Miss Zhou.”

“Applause!”

The moment the conductor finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted—wave after wave, relentless—until Li Heng, Yu Shuheng, and Zhou Shihe stepped onto the stage in sequence.

Especially when Li Heng took center stage, the applause instantly surged several times higher, the rhythm rapid and fierce, every single pair of eyes in the hall locking onto him at once.

Simultaneously, thoughts raced through everyone’s minds:

“Mr. Li is this young? Even younger than I imagined.”

“Just as the news said—he’s a once-in-a-century genius.”

“So handsome. Perfectly matches my taste,” many women thought silently.

“Good music knows no borders, and neither does a beautiful face—when it’s this beautiful, it truly conquers East and West alike.”

“...”

The hall buzzed with awe and wonder; after meticulously scanning the dazzling Li Heng, they turned to examine Yu Shuheng and Zhou Shihe—and froze. Why were they both so beautiful?

Why did they both radiate such grace?

Was this the profound cultural depth of five thousand years of Eastern civilization?

As Europeans, many men resented it, secretly comparing the two women to France’s top beauty, César Award winner, and Cannes Best Actress Isabelle Adjani.

After the comparison, the men fell silent.

Adjani, though breathtakingly beautiful and comparable to Yu Shuheng, lacked Yu’s noble aura—a quality lethal to the elites seated here.

They knew at a glance: this Miss Yu came from a lineage far beyond ordinary.

Zhou Shihe was even more otherworldly—she belonged only in heaven.

Even Adjani herself, seated below, quietly compared herself to the two women, glancing between Yu Shuheng and Zhou Shihe, her focus finally settling on Zhou Shihe.

Her friend whispered, “You’re all stunning beauties—why stare at them? Look at Mr. Li—he’s the real star today.”

Adjani shifted her gaze back to Li Heng.

Her friend asked, “Well? Interested?”

Adjani replied, “A bit too young.”

Her friend glanced sideways at her: “Is that really all it is?”

Adjani asked, “Are you smitten?”

Her friend said, “The moment he stepped out, Cupid’s arrow pierced me.”

Adjani laughed: “With your credentials, you could try.”

The friend grew restless, then deflated: “I’m not beautiful enough, and reports say he’s not short on money—I doubt I stand a chance.”

Compared to Adjani, she was indeed less dazzling, but she belonged to the Arnault family—one of France’s most influential business dynasties—and was a core member.

Adjani studied her, teasing: “We’ve known each other years—first time I hear you speak without confidence.”

“It’s not lack of confidence—it’s because I’m smitten that I’m lost,” the friend countered.

Adjani found this somewhat reasonable.

The friend asked, “Be honest—what do you think of Mr. Li?”

Adjani paused, then voiced her true feeling: “Except for his youth, I can’t find a single flaw.”

The friend asked, “Suppose—I say suppose—he came courting you, would you be moved?”

Adjani gave Li Heng a full, thorough appraisal, then said: “If that were real, I might cancel my filming schedule and go on a date with him.”

Hearing this, the friend stared at Li Heng, growing more and more captivated, then suddenly said: “What if we go find him together afterward? Whoever he chooses, the other steps aside?”

Adjani: “...”

Li Heng and the two women crossed the stage to their designated positions, then turned as one to face the audience and bowed according to international custom.

The audience responded enthusiastically, returning the gesture with a tidal wave of applause.

Amid the unceasing applause, Li Heng was startled to spot a familiar face in the back: Zhou Min.

Classmate from Statistics 1, Fudan University.

Wasn’t Zhou Min studying abroad at Cambridge? Why was she here today?

Puzzled, his gaze lingered on Zhou Min for two seconds.

Zhou Min smiled, raised her right hand to her chest, and gave a small wave.

The applause lasted over a dozen seconds; when it faded, the hall fell silent again, all eyes fixed on Li Heng and the two women, on the short clay flute in his hand.

Though this was his first performance in Europe, at the prestigious Royal Concert Hall, backed by the Philharmonic Orchestra, Li Heng felt no nerves—he’d lived two lives. Facing thousands of eyes, he felt calm, even comfortable. The fear others felt simply didn’t exist in him. Not a single hair stood on end.

Everything prepared, Li Heng first locked eyes with Yu Shuheng on his left, then turned to his right.

Zhou Shihe met his gaze with perfect understanding.

Their eyes met, then parted. One sat like a fairy before the piano, her pale, delicate fingers slowly resting on the keys. The other slowly closed his eyes, cultivating the perfect emotion.

At that moment, all stage lights extinguished simultaneously, plunging the stage into darkness.

After a long twenty seconds of darkness, as anticipation swelled in every heart, the lights on stage flickered back to life—blue and gold spotlights, combined with a starry curtain of projection beams, rendered the stage profoundly mysterious.

After a brief pause, Zhou Shihe’s hands moved—her slender fingers danced with ethereal grace across the black and white keys, releasing a soothing, melodious tune that drifted like spring wind through the packed concert hall.

At once, the Philharmonic’s chief conductor and music director exchanged glances—each saw the same thought in the other’s eyes: this piano mastery deserved the title of a master.

As the piano prelude played, at a certain moment, Li Heng opened his eyes, brought the clay flute to his lips, and gently blew.

Instantly!

A cascade of soul-shaking notes exploded into the air, flooding the entire concert hall in the next second.

Explosion!

Truly an explosion!

It was not noisy—on the contrary, pure and lingering—but its effect was swift, dizzying.

Everyone in the hall—the Philharmonic’s conductor and director, every member of the orchestra, the Queen of the Netherlands, the Prime Minister, members of parliament, dignitaries, celebrities, and tycoons from across Europe—fell utterly still. They relaxed. Their minds ceased wandering. Their souls detached, soared, ascended with the sound of the clay flute.

All eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Li Heng, afraid to miss a single note.

Their skulls hummed; their bodies tingled, as if electrified, collectively sinking into an unprecedented, exquisite euphoria.

As always: good music, you may not understand it—but it understands you.

As Li Heng continued playing “Original Landscape of the Hometown,” its mournful, profound tone, the entire hall was drawn into a solitary, desolate world, experiencing a serene, weary, and desolate beauty far from the noise of the world.

It made each person recall their own struggles, the quiet simplicity beyond wandering, the place where their dreams and hopes once lived.

Resonance!

Thousands united in resonance with the clay flute’s sound.

At this moment, their gazes were hazy, expressions entranced, staring at Li Heng like stone statues, movements perfectly synchronized, astonishingly uniform.

The president of Inter Milan thought: The live experience is incomparable to listening to the album at home—the six-times-expensive ticket was worth every cent. Mr. Li is truly a legend.

Adjani’s eyes shone as she stared at Li Heng—now she saw no Yu Shuheng, no dazzling Zhou Shihe—only Li Heng.

The Arnault heiress silently vowed: No, I must find a way to meet Li Heng.

Watching the radiant Li Heng on stage, Zhou Min was deeply shaken: Is this Li Heng? Has he grown this far? Every audience member here could be a royal, a billionaire, a government official, or a celebrity outside—yet now they were all his faithful listeners, his devoted fans. Amazing! Li Heng is truly amazing!

Yu Shuheng glanced at the young man several times, thinking: He truly has a heart of steel—born for grand stages. In this setting, he wasn’t timid—he outperformed himself, and even moved her.

Time passed; as Li Heng blew the final note, the heart-wrenching “Original Landscape of the Hometown” came to an end.

The piece finished.

Before he could lower the flute, applause erupted from the audience.

“Applause!”

“Applause!”

Everyone clapped, faces filled with rapture, cheering him from the depths of their hearts.

The applause lasted about half a minute, then faded again; all leaned forward, ears straining, for the second piece—“The Street Where the Wind Resides”—was about to begin…

If the first piece was desolate, the second was defined by serenity.

“The Street Where the Wind Resides” began again with Zhou Shihe’s piano.

Seated quietly before the piano, Zhou Shihe embodied the saying: “One glance topples a city, a second topples a nation.”

Her exquisite, fragile beauty made every man involuntarily hold his breath and every woman envy her with sidelong glances.

Her fingers danced across the black and white keys, brimming with soul. Each time she played this piece, she nearly broke down—Li Heng’s image would suddenly flash in her mind, pulling her irresistibly into emotion.

She knew: she had fallen in love with him, helplessly.

This wasn’t just a quarrelsome retort to Yu Shuheng.

It was her despair after facing the truth within.

“The Street Where the Wind Resides” centered on piano and erhu; when Li Heng’s erhu joined, Zhou Shihe’s heart trembled—she lowered her gaze and almost saw his face, felt his devoted eyes, imagined him kissing her, holding her.

She almost heard him whisper in her ear: Shihe, I fell for you at first sight.

The perfect harmony of piano and erhu gave the audience the most exquisite auditory feast imaginable.

But the woman before the piano suffered.

The more deeply she immersed herself, the better she played, the more her spirit quivered, the more uncontrollably she thought of everything connected to him.

Their bond began in the cafeteria, over meal fees—he’d forgotten his money and absentmindedly took her rice noodles.

Their first proper meeting was in the dressing room behind Xianghui Hall—that was the start of her nightmare.