Chapter 88
TWO TRACKING SPOTLIGHTS beamed down on Jiang Cheng and Wang Xu, so brightly that they could hardly see anything around them. The heat of the light felt so hot to Jiang Cheng that it almost burned.
It took him only five or six steps to walk to the center of the stage, but sweat was already beading at his temples—cold sweat.
The applause, cheers, and screams from below had Wang Xu excited. In a swath of dizzyingly bright light, Jiang Cheng could see the spring in Wang Xu’s steps.
Jiang Cheng walked over to the piano with his back turned to the audience. He didn’t dare look back again. In the span of a second, his mind had gone through a whole quest of ice and fire, dropping from heaven to earth to deep below the ground. He couldn’t even feel his own brain.
His fingertips felt cold and stiff. But it wasn’t just his fingers; the stiffness extended up his entire arm, and all his strength seemed to have left him. When he sat down at the piano bench, he almost couldn’t lift the lid.
In that instant, his powerful peripheral vision shut down. All other sights and sounds were blocked out, leaving only the circle of blinding light in his immediate vicinity.
He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. The only thing remaining in his mind was the sight of Gu Fei’s empty seat.
It was not a trick of the light. People were still wandering around and standing in the aisles, but Jiang Cheng would have been able to recognize Gu Fei even if all he saw was a corner of his shirt hem.
Gu Fei wasn’t in the auditorium anymore.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t sort through his emotions right now. They were in such a jumble that he couldn’t make rhyme or reason of them, let alone form any kind of coherent thought.
He stared blankly at the black and white keys on the piano, his surroundings stirred into a vortex of chaos by that empty seat.
“Jiang Cheng.” It was Wang Xu’s voice. “Jiang Cheng! Fuck! What’s wrong with you? You okay? Jiang Cheng?”
Looking up at last, he saw Wang Xu’s anxious face hovering above the piano.
“Are you not feeling well?” Wang Xu asked.
“Nah.” Jiang Cheng sucked in a breath, and the world slowly came into focus again. He could see outlines of things, and the sounds in his ears abruptly grew louder. The clapping had stopped, leaving sparse cheers here and there. Every so often a whistle still sounded in the audience.
“If you don’t feel well, we can switch with the next act,” Wang Xu said quietly, unconvinced. “You don’t look so good. Is it nerves?”
“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng said, giving him a smile. “Get ready.”
“All right.” Wang Xu adjusted his guitar, then swept his fingers gently over the strings. With these first notes, the audience’s mood lifted once again.
Gu Fei wasn’t there anymore. Jiang Cheng didn’t know why he’d left or where he had gone. He wondered if Gu Fei would be able to hear him play, or if he even wanted to hear it now.
Jiang Cheng drew in a deep breath. Those were thoughts for later. Whatever had happened, he was the one who’d chosen to participate in the concert. He chose Gu Fei’s song. He chose to let Lao-Xu know.
Whether the emcee had overheard Lao-Xu quietly showing off to the other teacher, or why she thought it was okay to make that addition to the credits—none of that mattered anymore.
It had already happened. There was no use in fuming, no use getting worked up over it now. He was still sitting here, facing the song that was already so familiar to him that he could play it in his sleep. He wanted Gu Fei to hear it, but he wanted himself to hear it, too.
He rarely thought about what-if scenarios. But once the what-if happened, he wouldn’t spare it a second thought, either—he would face it head-on.
Jiang Cheng rubbed his hands together and shook them out. A smattering of quiet laughter rang out from the crowd below.
He turned and swept his eyes over the audience, curled his lips up into a smile, then lifted his hands and set them on the keys. As the first note sounded beneath his fingers, silence descended upon the crowd.
Jiang Cheng kept his eyes on the audience all the way until Wang Xu joined in on his guitar three bars later, not looking down at the piano the whole time. He listened to the audience clap, seeming to suddenly wake from their trance when the guitar chords started harmonizing with the piano.
When Wang Xu took over for the guitar solo, Jiang Cheng finally turned back and looked down at his fingers. There were no other sounds in his ears but the guitar’s melody.
Wang Xu must’ve been playing extraordinarily well today, he figured. Jiang Cheng glanced at Yi Jing, who had already stepped onto the stage and was taking photos of them with the camera. Wang Xu took a couple of steps toward her with his guitar. His face was probably shining as brightly as the silver dragon on his shirt.