Chapter 646: Those Things on the Piano

For several days straight, Li Heng didn’t go anywhere, just holed up in his study reading manuscripts.

He read through all fifty-eight pages of "Dust Settles" from beginning to end.

To avoid distraction and save time, he’d nearly gone mad—ate buns for breakfast, then bought a bag of buns to eat for lunch.

During this time, he ran into Wei Xiaozhu outside campus; upon learning of his situation, she specifically brought him dinner twice.

After finishing the first read-through, he reorganized his thoughts again.

After reading the manuscript a second time, he stirred up his emotions, spread out his notebook, uncapped his pen, and prepared to write Chapter 59.

Yet ten minutes had passed, and the pen tip still hovered above the white paper, Chichiweiluo .

After another tense pause, Li Heng frowned deeply, finally sighed, set the pen down on the desk, and slumped back in his chair, limp as a pile of cotton.

Had he still not found that writing feeling again?

Where had he gone wrong?

Was it because he was too eager?

Lost in thought, Li Heng rose, left his study, and walked out of Building 26.

He planned to take a walk outside, stretch his limbs, and clear his mind.

Huh?

Are the windows and doors of Building 27 open? Has Zhou Shihe returned?

Li Heng stood at the courtyard gate, peering inside for a long while—but saw not a soul. Just as he wondered whether to enter, a group appeared down the alley.

Men and women, old and young—likely a family of six, each carrying large bundles.

Li Heng looked over and saw them stop in front of Building 23.

Building 23’s professor had just gone abroad—is this a new neighbor?

As he thought this, the woman professor leading the group smiled at him.

Li Heng returned the smile.

This interruption dispelled his urge to enter Building 27; he turned and walked toward the alley’s mouth.

As he walked, he mused: Building 24 has been empty for so long—why hasn’t the school assigned anyone yet?

After leaving Lushan Village, Li Heng pondered a while, then bought fruit and items for pregnant women and infants, heading straight for the hospital.

“Old Yong, how’s your wife and daughter?” Li Heng, familiar with the layout, found himself bumping into Zhang Zhiyong just as he stepped out of the private ward.

“Shh!”

Zhang Zhiyong placed a finger to his lips, bent low, and whispered with furtive eyes: “Little Master Heng, keep your voice down—Miss Chunhua just fell asleep.”

Li Heng nodded, understood, and handed him the gifts.

Zhang Zhiyong took the gifts, slipped back into the ward, then came out again, leading him outside: “The doctor says Miss Chunhua’s condition has stabilized, but the baby still needs observation—so far, no major issues.”

Hearing this, Li Heng exhaled in relief and said cheerfully: “As long as she’s fine, they’ve made it through this ordeal.”

Zhang Zhiyong grinned: “We’ve had dinner already—how about we grab a drink, brother?”

Li Heng asked: “Won’t drinking interfere? Aren’t you going back to care for your wife and child?”

Zhang Zhiyong replied: “Old Heng, don’t worry—I’m not that clueless. My mom’s inside keeping watch—nothing’ll happen.”

Li Heng chuckled inwardly: Your nickname is literally “Clueless,” and you’re telling me you’re not?

They found a roadside eatery, ordered a few of the owner’s specialties, and started drinking beer.

After half a bottle, Clueless said: “Little Master Heng, this time we owe it all to Professor Yu—if not for her, I wouldn’t have made it.”

Li Heng agreed.

Clueless glanced around furtively, leaned across the table, and whispered: “Are you really planning to marry Professor Yu?”

Li Heng rolled his eyes: “You’re a traitor—she helps you, and you instantly switch sides.”

Clueless scratched the back of his head, grinning foolishly: “Professor Yu’s beautiful and elegant—she’s perfect. Marrying her? You’d be winning big.”

Li Heng said: “Say that to Xiao Han and Song Yu’s faces.”

At the mention of Xiao Han and Song Yu—especially Song Yu—Clueless shuddered and fell silent.

While eating with Old Yong, heavy rain began to fall; only then did Li Heng realize he’d unconsciously reached May—the rainy season in the Jiangnan region.

After dinner, he bought an umbrella and took the bus back to campus.

By chance, he encountered Wu Siyao from the neighboring Tongji University on the bus.

Wu Siyao saw him too, but didn’t approach and sit beside him as usual—only occasionally stole glances his way.

Li Heng pretended not to notice her covert glances, turned his head to gaze out the window, and didn’t even notice when she got off.

When he returned to Lushan Village, the rain had eased; from afar, he could already hear piano music drifting through the alley.

It was Liszt’s piano piece “The Bells.”

Li Heng listened, entranced, and unconsciously stopped at the gate of Building 27. Only after the piece ended did he suddenly knock on the courtyard door.

“Dong dong dong!”

“Dong dong dong!”

The knocks were quiet, yet starkly audible at the quiet end of the alley.

Soon, Zhou Shihe appeared on the balcony, leaning down.

Their eyes met for two seconds; before he could speak, she turned away—and within half a minute, she stood in the courtyard.

With a soft clink of the latch, the gate opened just a crack; she stood behind it, holding a black umbrella, silently watching him.

Li Heng asked: “Have you had dinner?”

Zhou Shihe gave a slight nod.

Li Heng asked: “Practicing for the competition?”

Zhou Shihe said nothing.

Fine—by her demeanor, she had no intention of letting him in.

Since the incident at the library, they hadn’t had a proper conversation in a long time.

After a brief standoff across the threshold, Li Heng suddenly blinked and said: “‘Dust Settles’ has reached Chapter 58.”

Zhou Shihe instantly understood his bait—she knew his intent. She’d only read up to Chapter 56; two chapters remained.

Zhou Shihe paused, then spoke: “My mother is resting in the bedroom.”

Her voice was gentle and melodic, but the meaning was clear.

Li Heng was startled: “Your mother is resting, yet you’re playing piano?”

Zhou Shihe replied calmly: “Since childhood, Mother has grown accustomed to sleeping to my piano music.”

Well—he had no reply. He said “Good night,” and turned toward his own building.

Good night?

Zhou Shihe tilted her head to gaze at the sky, then checked her watch: 6:34.

It would be at least an hour before dark.

Her gaze passed through the wooden fence to the figure bending to open the gate next door; after hesitation, she pushed open her courtyard gate, shut it behind her, and walked over.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Li Heng turned—Zhou Gu niang.

He looked at her.

Face to face, Zhou Shihe thought a moment, then asked softly: “I remember you’d already written to Chapter 58 several days ago—why hasn’t it ended yet? Are you stuck?”

Li Heng nodded.

Zhou Shihe stared into his eyes for a moment, then turned and walked back toward her home, light-footed and silent.

In that moment, Zhou Shihe understood his thoughts—and he understood her gaze.

Li Heng, relying on their unspoken bond, relocked the gate and followed.

As expected, the gate of Building 27 was still open; the first-floor door was open too. Zhou Shihe had taken off her shoes and was placing her damp umbrella on the living room floor.

Li Heng walked in, closed the door behind her, and soon entered the house.

As the front door shut, they exchanged a silent glance, then ascended the stairs—one ahead, one behind.

Surprisingly, all the second-floor bedroom doors were open; Li Heng glanced left and right—but no one was in any room.

Where was Zhou’s mother?

He muttered behind her: “When did you learn to lie? Doesn’t your conscience hurt?”

Ahead, Zhou Shihe smiled faintly, then quickly wiped the smile from her face, said nothing, and walked straight into the music room.

Inside, she sat down calmly before the piano.

Li Heng surveyed the room, then stepped to the window and pulled the curtains shut.

Zhou Shihe faintly furrowed her brow—a sudden unease rose in her chest; she knew what might come next. Instinctively, she wanted to stop him.

But she knew—he wouldn’t listen.

Without much thought, she rose instinctively to flee, aiming to escape the music room as fast as possible.

She was fast—but Li Heng was faster.

As her hand reached for the doorknob, a large hand covered hers; their strength was unequal—the knob didn’t budge.

She tried again to open the door—still no luck. She slumped beside the door, head bowed, motionless.

Li Heng slid the bolt shut, turned on the light, and spoke gently: “Don’t overthink it—I just want to hear you play, to calm my mind, to find inspiration for writing.”

Zhou Shihe said nothing, but her eyes fixed on the bolt he’d just locked.

Li Heng seemed to know her worry: “The bolt gives security—no one will disturb us.”

Seeing him speak so seriously while saying nonsense, Zhou Shihe stilled, brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, then turned, stepped lightly, and returned to the piano, sitting down.

Li Heng sat in the chair to her left.

After a long silence, a melodious voice came from her lips: “Which piano piece would you like to hear?”

Li Heng replied without hesitation: “‘Rain’s Imprint.’”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Shihe’s chest rose and fell slightly, her slender fingers lingering over the black and white keys.

What piece is ‘Rain’s Imprint’?

It was almost their love song, the one that stirred her heart most deeply, imbued with special meaning.

In Singapore, in the Netherlands, back in the practice room—each time they played this piece, their hearts drew immeasurably closer, sending endless ripples through them.

Now, under these circumstances, Li Heng asked to hear this piece—it seemed natural, yet she doubted his motive.

Not hearing the piano sound, Li Heng said: “If you’re tired of ‘Rain’s Imprint,’ play ‘Butterfly Lovers’ instead.”

Saying this, he shifted his body, leaning back against the chair, and closed his eyes to wait.

He waited a long time.

Unexpectedly, instead of ‘Butterfly Lovers,’ she played ‘Rain’s Imprint.’

As the graceful melody began, Li Heng’s heart tightened as if gripped by a hand; an unusual feeling quietly stirred within him, and countless images involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

All these images were tied to the young lady before him: living together in Jingcheng, skiing in Northeast China, dancing in Singapore, the piano moment during the concert in the Netherlands, the memory of him kissing her…