Chapter 84: The Silent Lamb (1)

Beneath the glass on Pei Yancheng's desk lay a beautiful postcard. It pictured a little girl standing under the eaves adorned with wind chimes, gazing at a deep blue starry sky. In truth, what she cherished more than the illustration was the elegant handwriting on the back and the gentle statement written there: "If you are well, all is sunny." In her previous world, this phrase originated from Bai Luomei's 2012 work, "If You Are Well, All Is Sunny—A Biography of Lin Huiyin." But in this world, no such book existed; thus, the phrase had not yet become a cliché in personal profiles and signatures. One could almost call it Cheng Xiaoyu's own creation.

It was this line that made her curious about the sender of the flowers, though the card bore no name, nor did she know who had placed the bouquet by her bedside. The flowers' meanings were all blessings, never hints of affection.

Now, she sat at her dormitory desk, reading "A History of Western Music." When she had been admitted to the academy, she had applied for both the traditional opera and violin majors, achieving the top score in both entrance exams.

Both departments vied to recruit her, and the dispute escalated all the way to the president's office.

The Orchestral Department claimed Pei Yancheng was a once-in-a-century prodigy for China.

The Opera Academy argued that she would win them the Plum Blossom Award.

The Orchestral Department insisted that her violin skills were already approaching those of a master.

The Opera Academy countered that with her, they could add another Plum Blossom trophy to their display.

The Orchestral Department argued that the Opera Academy had no lack of talent and shouldn't steal a future master from a smaller department.

The Opera Academy maintained that while they had many students, their trophy case was sparse.

In the end, the admissions office of the Opera Academy and the Orchestral Department’s director nearly came to blows.

Finally, the Opera Academy's dean, Yu Shiwen—Jiang Lan's teacher and the third-generation head of the Cheng style—declared he would personally take Pei Yancheng as his last disciple. Only then did the endless argument cease.

To the faculty, this was a battle over a future master; to the students, it was a contest for the campus beauty.

Though Pei Yancheng entered the Opera Academy, she also attended classes in the Violin Department. It was exhausting, but she couldn’t bear to give up either opera or the violin.

On the day of Cheng Xiaoyu's re-examination, most departments had no classes; thus, she sat quietly in her dorm room, reading.

It was nearly ten o'clock when the eldest in their dorm, Jiang Muhan—a student of music and dance—burst in, gasping, "Chenchen, did you know that the rich boy who hit you is trying to get into the academy?"

Pei Yancheng's hand trembled, and she asked with some anxiety, "Who?"

Jiang Muhan, oblivious to Pei Yancheng's unease, replied, "The chubby guy who hit you with his Ferrari—his name is Cheng Xiaoyu!"

Pei Yancheng quickly composed herself, straightening her displaced copy of "A History of Western Music," and softly said, "Of course he can get into the academy. What's so strange about that?"

Jiang Muhan sensed something was off, but assumed Pei Yancheng was still affected by the accident. Since her recovery, Pei Yancheng had never spoken about the incident; she didn’t even know the name of the person involved until her roommates told her.

Whenever her roommates tried to discuss it, she only remarked that it was an ordinary accident, nothing worth dwelling on. It was as if the person who had hovered at death’s door for more than twenty hours was someone else entirely.

Jiang Muhan, a bit surprised, asked, "You really don’t hate him at all?"

Pei Yancheng kept her gaze on her book and shook her head. "What is there to hate? In fact, I should thank him. If his family hadn’t paid so much compensation, I... there’s nothing more to say. You didn’t come here just to tell me about him getting into the academy, did you?"

Jiang Muhan knew Pei Yancheng’s family wasn’t well off, but she couldn’t understand her calm acceptance and lack of curiosity. Pulling Pei Yancheng to her feet, she said, "Class president Zhang Shaofeng is leading a group with banners to protest at the exam venue—they're clashing with the student council! The crowd’s getting bigger; something major is about to happen."

Now Pei Yancheng grew nervous and quickly stood. "How could they do that?"

Jiang Muhan, dragging her out of the dorm, explained, "Apparently, someone posted online yesterday claiming Cheng Xiaoyu bribed the examiners. But most of the protestors are your admirers."

Pei Yancheng frowned, determined to stop the commotion. She had made one mistake already and did not want to make another.

While Pei Yancheng hurried towards the Music Academy, He Mingzhe stood hesitantly outside the Piano Department director’s office, clutching a stack of documents. He checked his preset phone alarm, recalling Duanmu Linsha’s fair neck, her swan-like pride. Gathering his courage, he knocked and entered.

Professor Li Yunling, the Piano Department’s director and He Mingzhe’s teacher, was in her fifties with streaks of white in her hair. Her demeanor was strict and not particularly approachable; she was reading through lesson plans with her glasses on.

He Mingzhe entered, closing the door behind him, his sweaty hands betraying his nerves. "Professor," he greeted.

Li Yunling looked up and, recognizing him, smiled kindly. She liked this student—obedient, considerate, diligent in his piano studies. Though not a genius, he was above average. Adjusting her glasses, she asked, "Is something the matter?"

He Mingzhe steadied himself and delivered his prepared lines: "Last week, Professor Qian gave a lecture in our department, and the response was excellent. We hope to invite a master once or twice a month to share their performance experiences or talk about working with major orchestras."

Li Yunling pondered for a few seconds. "That’s a good idea, but inviting such masters isn’t easy."

He Mingzhe replied, "Perhaps we could invite them in the name of the student council, with the school’s official support. Would that be feasible?"

Li Yunling considered, then said, "It’s not impossible. I’ll discuss it with the president."

At that moment, He Mingzhe’s phone alarm went off. His gaze became evasive, adrenaline surging. He hesitated, unsure whether to silence it or follow his plan.

Li Yunling, noting his discomfort, said, "Take the call first."

Relieved, He Mingzhe fished out his phone and turned off the alarm, holding it to his ear as if someone were on the line. "President, what’s the matter?" He timed his responses: a few grunts of acknowledgment, a surprised exclamation, then, "Really?" before ending the call.

Li Yunling paid him no mind, returning to her lesson plans.

Suppressing his racing heart, He Mingzhe said, "Professor, there’s a big problem in our department!"

Li Yunling looked up, frowning, "What is it?"

"President Tong just called. The rich kid who hit Pei Yancheng is sitting for our entrance exam. There are rumors of cheating, and now a crowd is making a scene at the exam hall!"

Li Yunling set her pen down. "Nonsense. Can’t the student council handle it? Isn’t Professor Kong at the exam?"

He Mingzhe was committed now—if he didn’t persuade Li Yunling to intervene, all his efforts would be wasted. "They say the main issue is that the rich kid was scheduled last in the preliminaries, and played only the easiest pieces: the B-flat minor, B853, a minor harmony—"

"Passing with just those simple three pieces upset many students. Now over a hundred people are gathered outside the exam hall, talking about corruption and insider deals. Even a lot of parents have seen it—it’s casting our department in a very poor light."