Chapter 11: A New Beginning

After two days of work, Qin Yun used a Steinway-specific acoustic testing device to re-measure the soundboard’s vibration frequency and string tension, employed a tactile feedback tester to assess key rebound speed and force, confirmed all issues, and marked each one on the piano.

Since some parts required custom manufacturing from Steinway’s original factory, he could only repair what was immediately fixable. After spending a day, he successfully restored the piano’s exterior appearance and replaced the built-in, now-failed humidity regulator.

“Fraud!”

Qin Yun was cleaning the delaminated areas of the soundboard and ribs, removing old glue and debris from the gaps, when a childish voice came from behind.

He didn’t turn around. “Mushroom head, it’s Wednesday—don’t you have class today?”

Zhao Yiyu, nine years old, third-grade student, with a mushroom cut.

“Don’t call me Mushroom Head, and school’s over now, fraud.”

Zhao Yiyu hadn’t even put down his schoolbag before rushing to the piano room; he firmly believed Qin Yun was a big fraud trying to swindle his family’s money. At his age, he understood big numbers—250,000 was an astronomical sum to him, enough to buy countless toys he wanted.

Yet all that money would go to pay this fraud’s repair fee—who on earth charged that much for repairs? Obviously a scammer.

“Why do you think I’m a fraud?” Qin Yun found the kid annoying, but since he wasn’t interfering with his work and only talked nonsense, he let it slide—after all, it was 250,000 yuan.

“I asked a girl in my class—her family also has a piano, bought for only a few hundred thousand. You charge over two hundred thousand to fix it—what else could you be but a fraud?” The boy spoke with perfect confidence.

Qin Yun turned to look at him and patted the piano body. “Do you know how much your sister’s piano cost?”

Zhao Yiyu shook his head. “How expensive could it be? It couldn’t possibly cost more than your repair fee.”

“Why don’t you ask your mother or sister? Let them tell you the piano’s price. Maybe once you know, you won’t think I’m a fraud.”

Zhao Yiyu hesitated, then turned and ran out.

Qin Yun didn’t care—the kid came every day, never tired.

At that moment, someone walked in through the door.

“Mr. Qin, your courier has arrived. Shall I have someone bring it in?”

Qin Yun stood up and smiled. “Mr. Lu, please have everything moved into the room.”

Mr. Lu was the butler of this villa; the household also had a chef, nanny, and servants—wealthy people’s lives were truly unimaginable.

Soon, the tools and custom parts shipped from Germany were all brought inside.

Qin Yun unpacked each item one by one and organized them by category.

By now, except for Zhao Yiyu, the rest of the Zhao family had full confidence that Qin Yun could restore the piano—they had watched with their own eyes as the once-ruined instrument slowly returned to life.

From a purely visual standpoint, it already looked no different from brand new—only the acoustic components and action mechanism remained unrepaired.

Another week passed quickly; the entire piano’s restoration now only required fixing the action and pedal mechanism. But today, he had to take a day off.

“Mr. Qin, shall I arrange for someone to drive you?”

Zhao Lingsu didn’t ask why—she simply made a suggestion, but Qin Yun declined outright.

“No need. My car’s still in the underground garage. No trouble needed.”

Zhao Lingsu nodded. “Alright, Mr. Qin, please take care of yourself.”

For the past ten days, Qin Yun had been staying at the Zhao residence—there were plenty of empty rooms; even more guests could be accommodated.

He drove his car to the Civil Affairs Bureau, found a random parking spot, then entered the building with his ID and marriage certificate, immediately spotting two familiar figures.

One was Song Ya—after a month apart, she looked radiant. The other was her mother-in-law.

The mother and daughter saw Qin Yun, rolled their eyes, snorted, and without a word went to join the queue. Seeing they had no intention of speaking, Qin Yun ignored them too. When their turn came, the staff asked again, but Song’s mother snapped back impatiently.

Soon, a sharp “click” echoed as the divorce certificate’s seal was stamped. The staff pushed the two booklets forward, their eyes filled with regret. This couple—one handsome, one beautiful—were divorcing? What a pity.

Qin Yun thanked them, ignored the two, and turned to leave.

Just as he stepped out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, his mother-in-law’s voice came from behind.

“At least you’ve got some sense—if you’d made things harder for Xiao Ya after all these years, I wouldn’t have let you off easy.”

Qin Yun stopped, turned back to face the mother and daughter, and smiled easily: “Thanks for not causing any trouble these past month.”

Seeing Qin Yun’s smile, Song Ya suddenly felt annoyed—why are you so relieved and carefree now that we’re divorced? If you’d begged me properly, I might’ve given you another chance. Now it’s too late.

“Goodbye… no, never again.”

Qin Yun strode to the parking lot, opened his car door, got in, and drove off.

Song’s mother stared after him, stunned.

“Where did he get a car?”

Song Ya shook her head. “I don’t know—he has no money.”

“He must’ve hidden savings. You’re such a fool,” Song’s mother poked Song Ya’s head, dissatisfied.

Song Ya scoffed. “That car looks expensive—there’s no way he bought it. He must’ve rented or borrowed it.”

Qin Yun glanced at the divorce certificate on the passenger seat. A new, unprecedented lightness filled his body—as if a heavy burden had been lifted. His joy was genuine.

“New beginning. Heart-first beginning. Hahaha!”

With the wind blowing through the window, Qin Yun laughed, growing happier with each breath.

When he returned to Beijing Runyuan, Zhao Lingsu could almost sense his inner joy.

“Mr. Qin, how much longer until the piano is fully restored?”

“Four more days will do.”

Zhao Lingsu nodded slightly. A few days ago, she’d heard that Steinway engineers from Germany had arrived in Beijing. She’d planned to use connections and pay to bring one over—to verify whether the repair was properly done.

After all, neither she nor her daughter were professionals. Whether the piano was truly fixed required an expert’s inspection. She could pay 250,000 yuan—but she wouldn’t be cheated.

She didn’t tell Qin Yun this, but even if he knew, he wouldn’t care.

Over the next four days, he repaired the pedal mechanism, adjusted pedal travel, calibrated sustain and dampening effects, ensured pedal depth precisely matched pitch changes, then performed a deliberately showy act—he took apart the action mechanism in front of the Zhao family.

When thousands of tiny parts lay scattered on the floor, the shock was undeniable. Just one glance made one dizzy; how could anyone possibly reassemble them?

The action had minor issues—no need to disassemble it this thoroughly. But to make the 250,000 yuan feel worth it, he had to show them something astonishing.

After cleaning every component, he replaced the Schneiders, applied specialized lubricant, and began reassembling the action, fine-tuning the linkage precision of every part.

Watching this process—transforming complexity into simplicity, fragments into unity—Zhao Lingsu’s trust in Qin Yun reached its peak. She began addressing him not as “Mr. Qin,” but as “Master Qin.” Even Zhao Yiyu was awestruck.

He’d never assembled more than a hundred toy parts at once, always needing the instruction manual. Yet Qin Yun reassembled thousands of parts without any manual—wasn’t that incredible?

Once all parts were reinstalled, only the final step remained: tuning and testing.

For him, it was as easy as eating with chopsticks—he finished it effortlessly in a single day. The piano’s restoration was officially complete.

“Master Qin, the payment has been transferred to your account. Please check if it arrived.”

When Qin Yun entered the living room, two foreigners were inside, but he paid them no mind and didn’t ask questions. He checked his phone, confirmed the bank notification, and felt sudden delight.

“It’s arrived. Thank you, Ms. Zhao.”

“Haha, I should thank you. If we’d shipped the piano back to Germany, it wouldn’t have cost just 250,000 yuan. You didn’t just save me trouble—you saved me half the money.”

She then spoke rapidly to the two foreigners in a foreign language, and under Mr. Lu’s guidance, they entered the piano room.

Qin Yun thought to himself—these two were surely the experts Zhao Lingsu had invited to inspect the piano.

After fifteen minutes, the two foreigners emerged from the piano room, speaking rapidly to Zhao Lingsu, gesturing wildly with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Zhao Lingsu looked at Qin Yun with astonishment. Soon after, the two foreigners were escorted out.

“Those two said this Steinway shows no signs of damage whatsoever—even by their standards. They even suspect the piano was never dropped. Master Qin’s craftsmanship is so precise even Steinway’s own engineers can’t detect any flaw. Truly admirable.”

Qin Yun smiled. He didn’t think it odd that they’d brought inspectors—he’d do the same in their place.

After all, this piano was worth millions.

He declined their invitation to stay for dinner, exchanged contact information, and took his leave.

As he pulled out of the underground garage, he spotted Zhao Yiyu just getting out of school. He rolled down his window. “Zhao Yiyu, your mom says your piano repair fee will be deducted from your allowance—you’re doomed, hahaha!”

With that, he stomped the accelerator and drove off, leaving the boy stunned in the sunset.

In half a month, he’d netted 250,000 yuan—more than his annual salary. Qin Yun sincerely thanked the system, thanked it for granting him these skills. With them, he was certain his future would never lack money—money would become nothing but a number.

With time still early, Qin Yun drove to Beijing Digital City. Had he not taken Zhao Lingsu’s job, he might’ve hesitated before buying a camera. But now, with over 300,000 yuan in cash, a single camera meant nothing.

Yet when he saw the prices of cameras and lenses, he suddenly realized he wasn’t as rich as he thought.

A Sony A7RV body cost 25,999 yuan; with a lens, the total came to 60,000 yuan.

“Damn, this is robbery. The internet bros were right—DSLRs ruin your life.”

Finally, Qin Yun gritted his teeth and bought one—Canon, total cost under 50,000 yuan. Two lenses: one portrait prime, one telephoto zoom—more than enough for his needs.

After securing the camera bag, he returned to his hotel, prepared to rest for the night, then leave Beijing tomorrow to begin his journey to Zhejiang.

Life—a new beginning!