Chapter 65: The Cover Girl Who Was Overtaken

Cheng Xiaoyu lifted his fingers from the keys, the final notes fading into silence. Su Yuxi applauded softly; such a piano piece could only be appreciated by those who had elevated their mastery of the instrument to its greatest heights. One had to know the position of every key, the sound each produced, and then, in the mind, weave the visible notes into melody. Without exceptional talent and a formidable memory, neither playing nor listening to such music was possible.

It was in this way that the deaf Beethoven composed his most famous "Symphony of Fate."

Su Yuxi found it all quite fascinating. She motioned for Cheng Xiaoyu to switch seats with her. They exchanged places, and he watched as she raised her slender, crystal-clear fingers to play.

It was astonishing—the piano version of "The Sword-Drawing Song." Cheng Xiaoyu couldn't help but draw a sharp breath. To transcribe a piece after hearing it only once bespoke an extraordinary sensitivity to music and a prodigious memory. Had Cheng Xiaoyu not been a transmigrator, he would have felt utterly inadequate before such a prodigy. In truth, Su Yuxi had heard the piece twice, but that was unknown to him. The difference between once and twice, however, was negligible, especially with so much time having passed in between.

This method of playing was especially draining. When Su Yuxi finished, glistening beads of sweat had formed on her brow. With a childlike charm, she asked Cheng Xiaoyu, “I don’t think there were any mistakes, were there?”

Cheng Xiaoyu applauded lightly as well, looking at this version of his sister so different from her usual self, feeling that time could indeed be beautiful. He smiled, saying, “Perfect. Your skill on the piano far surpasses mine.”

Su Yuxi traced imaginary keys on the tabletop with her fingers and murmured, “But I have no talent for composition!”

Cheng Xiaoyu chuckled. “God has already been unfair enough. You possess so much already, and still you demand perfection—how are we ordinary people supposed to endure?”

But beautiful moments are always fleeting, and they hadn’t sat long before Cheng Xiaoyu’s phone rang. Seeing it was Su Weilan, he answered.

“Are you with Yuxi?” Su Weilan asked.

Cheng Xiaoyu glanced at Su Yuxi, hesitated, then replied, “Yes, we’re together.”

“Where did you go? You’re not here yet?” Su Weilan pressed.

Cheng Xiaoyu hesitated, unsure whether to tell the truth. But with Su Yuxi present, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “We’re at the library,” he confessed.

“Oh, what are you doing at the library—?” Before Su Weilan could finish, someone seemed to snatch the phone away, and Su Hongwen’s voice came through: “Xiaoyu, bring Yuxi over to Room 88 at the Bronze Sparrow Terrace. Tell her that Brother Xue Ren is here too—she should come quickly.” By then, Cheng Xiaoyu had lowered the volume and put the call on speaker so Su Yuxi could hear.

Seeing Su Yuxi’s indifferent reaction, Cheng Xiaoyu simply replied, “Alright. Coming,” and the call ended.

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t know who this Brother Xue Ren was and was too embarrassed to ask. Seeing the faintly annoyed look on Su Yuxi’s face, he asked, “What should we do? Looks like we can’t get out of this one.”

Su Yuxi frowned. “Why don’t you go? I’ll just head home.”

Cheng Xiaoyu had no desire to go either. Frowning, he wondered, “How odd—they didn’t call you?”

Su Yuxi rolled her eyes, giving him a look that questioned his intelligence. “My phone’s off.”

Cheng Xiaoyu found her expression utterly endearing and laughed. “My fault. Honestly, I didn’t think they’d call me. I figured if I didn’t show up, they simply wouldn’t call. If you hadn’t turned your phone off, they probably wouldn’t have reached out to me either.” He said this without a hint of complaint—more self-deprecating than anything.

Su Yuxi picked up the book from the table and stood. “It’s alright.”

Cheng Xiaoyu said, “Let’s deal with the drawings on the table another day.” The table was covered with various inscriptions—‘so-and-so was here,’ ‘so-and-so must be happy,’ and the like. Some were hard to erase, but the painted piano keys didn’t look out of place among them.

As they spoke, Cheng Xiaoyu received another barrage of urging texts. He could only sigh, pick up his books, and stand with her, handing his phone to Su Yuxi. “Look, several messages at once. Seems like you not going would be a tough hurdle. Who is this Brother Xue Ren, anyway?” Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but gossip.

“His grandfather is the Prime Minister, that I know. As for him, I don’t quite remember. I don’t like to waste time remembering unimportant things,” Su Yuxi replied with a faint smile, as if she found her own comment amusing.

Cheng Xiaoyu broke into a cold sweat, suddenly concerned for Su Yuxi’s sense of humor.

The two of them purchased the books they'd selected at the exit. Just as they were about to leave through the library’s grand front doors, a young man hurried after them, blocking Su Yuxi’s path. “Hey, beautiful, can I get to know you?”

Without so much as a glance at him, Su Yuxi replied crisply, “No.”

Cheng Xiaoyu guessed that Su Yuxi had rejected such advances so many times that her proficiency must be off the charts. Shaking his head, he looked at the young man who had just suffered a devastating blow, his pride utterly depleted, and wondered if the smiles he’d seen on Su Yuxi’s face today might have been mere illusions.

In the end, bombarded by incessant messages, the two resigned themselves and hailed a cab to the Bronze Sparrow Terrace.

Arriving at the opulent venue, they were guided by a beautiful hostess in a high-slit qipao to Room 88. Cheng Xiaoyu pushed open the door to see a large private room, a circle of people within. If not for the eye-catching presence of Su Hongwen, who was standing and singing, Cheng Xiaoyu might have thought he had entered the wrong room.

He walked in, with Su Yuxi following. On the sofa, a tall, handsome young man in a black shirt stood and approached Su Yuxi. “Su Yuxi, it’s been a long time.”

Su Yuxi nodded slightly. “Brother Gu, it’s been a while.”

Only then did Cheng Xiaoyu realize that this prince-like figure was the Prime Minister’s grandson.

After greeting Su Yuxi, Gu Xue Ren turned and shook hands with Cheng Xiaoyu. “You must be Su Yuxi’s brother.”

Cheng Xiaoyu nodded, but felt no desire to converse further.

Gu Xue Ren didn’t press him, simply inviting a few friends to make room for Su Yuxi to sit beside him, while arranging for Cheng Xiaoyu to sit further away and asking a companion to keep him company with drinks. As soon as Cheng Xiaoyu sat down, the young man beside him poured beer into their glasses.

Cheng Xiaoyu quickly waved it off. “Sorry, brother, I’m still in high school—I don’t drink.”

The man laughed. “My name’s Huang He—just call me Brother Huang. One glass of beer won’t hurt. Come, let’s toast.” With that, he clinked glasses with Cheng Xiaoyu and downed his drink.

Left with no choice, Cheng Xiaoyu also drained his glass. The bitter taste rolled across his tongue, and his body, not yet accustomed to alcohol, felt a bit uncomfortable.

Brother Huang clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” He refilled Cheng Xiaoyu’s glass, but thankfully didn’t pressure him for another toast.

Meanwhile, Gu Xue Ren spent his time talking to Su Yuxi, who responded with polite indifference.

Su Feifei was chatting animatedly with Wu Zixuan, while Su Weilan was competing in a drinking game with an extraordinarily beautiful and striking woman. Cheng Xiaoyu glanced over and realized the woman looked familiar. After some thought, he remembered her as Sun Jingyao, the “Cover Girl 36” who had made such an impression on him when he saw her on a magazine. The magazine had noted she was a rising supermodel and had already ventured into television and film, with several dramas to her name. Tonight, Sun Jingyao wore a black dress, purple stockings, and black suede heels; even seated, her figure was impossible to ignore.

Su Hongwen was clearly the resident karaoke king, monopolizing the microphone since Cheng Xiaoyu’s arrival, even singing along to songs chosen by others.

Brother Huang asked why Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t singing. He smiled. “I can’t sing.”

Brother Huang laughed. “Neither can I.” He toasted Cheng Xiaoyu again.

Gu Xue Ren also had a drink with Cheng Xiaoyu and perfunctorily invited him to sing, which Cheng Xiaoyu declined with the same excuse.

Though Su Yuxi had no real love for pop music, her training in the idol program required her to rehearse some songs. Under the group’s enthusiastic urging, she sang two numbers, earning resounding applause.

Cheng Xiaoyu thought she clearly had a gift for singing. Her natural ability was excellent—perhaps not at Xia Shamo’s level, but still very impressive. Her high notes were splendid and steady, her mids warm and melodious—a sign of diligent practice and study.

Later, Gu Xue Ren selected a duet and invited Su Yuxi to sing with him. She demurred, so he sang with Su Feifei instead.

Thus, immersed in alcohol, Cheng Xiaoyu endured a tedious evening. Having drunk more than he was used to, he felt a bit light-headed as they left. He expected no one would see him off and trailed at the back, just behind the striking silhouette of Sun Jingyao.

Sun Jingyao had donned a short fur coat, yet her flawless, shapely figure still dominated Cheng Xiaoyu’s view. Any normal man, he thought, would be tempted to reach out and touch her.

The wicked thought had barely flashed through his mind when disaster struck. Sun Jingyao, teetering on new, ill-fitting high heels, lost her balance on the slick marble floor as her ankle twisted and she began to fall backward.

At that moment, Cheng Xiaoyu was the only one behind her and not far away. Instinctively, he lunged forward to catch her, but the suddenness of it all left his posture awkward. His left hand landed on her exquisite, rounded hip, while his right hand slipped under her arm and pressed against her ample chest.

In that instant, as he savored the startling sensation, his mind conjured the seductive poses from the magazine cover. The soul of an old man within him took control, and he couldn’t help but squeeze twice.

Reflexes overpowered thought, and by the time he realized his mistake, it was already too late.