Echo is the soul of sound

He left again, and it was I who drove him away.I have driven him away many times—when I was young, it was like a game, not wanting to see him anymore; later, it was because of the pain he caused me; now, it is because of my own shame.However, without him, I wouldn't know shame or honor. But being with him changed everything—shame became true shame, and honor became undeniable honor. In the past, I was certain he loved me deeply, and it was because of that honor. Later, our relationship became his shame; now, I myself am the shame.But it doesn't matter. No one expects me to be their honor. My grandparents have passed away; my parents can still understand all the causes and effects; strangers simply don't matter.It will only take some time, and everything will get better.I will eventually find the creditor—it's just a transaction after all.First, I will call Dai Yanzhi and gather the remaining employees of the company—the marketing and business development teams—everyone is needed.They will always find some way.Teacher Shan, with his reputation, will also be respected by the Music Association; they probably won't make things difficult for me anymore, and at least he can help me salvage some of the negative public opinion.Also, there are the members of the Political Consultative Conference. Those like me aren't useful; I must contact people in Beijing, and if worse comes to worst, I can try reaching out to Wang Zhen's connections.Things should ease within a month.A month has passed, and with countless confirmed silences, optimism gradually feels foolish.There are fewer and fewer people in the company. Because of my temper, whenever someone shows signs of backing down, I send them away.Breaching contracts and paying compensation is one thing, but being unable to work for a month, with almost all the business activities for the second half of the year halted, means that the cash flow at the beginning of next year might also be cut off.To be honest, I'm starting to panic. It's a feeling I've never had before. It's like the winter in Beijing right now.That winter afternoon, I was bundled up tightly, driving the black Mercedes SUV all the way to the Summer Palace, simply unwilling to drive that red Ferrari anymore.Just like before, I didn't want to be recognized by others.I almost ran straight to the Long Embankment, where the snow was piled deep, something not often seen in Beijing. After a while, it began to snow again. Besides the black skyline and the bare black willow branches on the embankment, there was nothing else. Not a single person was around; it was truly clean.

I started to run wild, running out onto the frozen lake. From the willow-lined embankment, I ran all the way to the boat pavilion and the shore by the long corridor. The lake ice was a bit slippery but solid. How annoying—why can't I see the other side of Kunming Lake?

The downside of winter sports is that sweat can freeze into frost, especially on the eyelashes. These droplets gradually gathered before my eyes, blurring my vision. As my body warmed up, some of the frost melted, taking away some of my body heat. Worse still, I was so tired that I collapsed directly into a snow pile on the lake's edge.

Looking up at the sky, it was good.

"If one day you can't play the piano anymore, what will you do?""I'll go find him.""Seems like there's no other way."

Such a conversation suddenly echoed in my mind again.

But I can still play the piano, as long as my hands are still here.

But what use are these hands now? No one needs me to play anymore, and no one wants to watch me play.

I took off my gloves and buried my fingers in the snow pile, just to confirm they still exist.

In the vast silence, only my fingers in the snow could touch the seasons of my childhood. I have grown further and further from that season and no longer feel the warmth of musical notes.

Amidst the deep silence, the vibration of my phone sounded particularly loud.

I hurried to answer, my fingers numb, and when I reached into my pocket, the sharp edge cut my hand painfully. My palm felt burning when it touched the phone case.

My hands mourned on my behalf.

"Xi, what are you doing?" It was Li Li.

"…" I didn't expect it to be her.

"It's me, Li Li. Your senior." Before I could speak, she added,"Yeah, I know."

"Well, um, we all roughly know what's going on with you. Dai Yanzhi told me. Teacher Shan also wants to help you, but he's struggling himself right now." She paused, "You know, those guys at the Music Association always treat us as a group. Once things settle on Teacher Shan's side, we can try asking around in Beijing again."

Seeing I still hadn't replied, she continued,"You know, that Lusang, and the ones surnamed Liao and Zhao, and others like them—there are plenty. Hey, don't be too upset. I think things will get better soon."

"Yeah, okay." I just wanted to brush it off.

"By the way, I asked He Tiantian and a lot of others. Heard Wang Zhen is pretty anxious too. You might want to ask her."

"Yeah, got it. Thank you, senior." After repeatedly hitting walls with people, I understood better than anyone what it means when the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. At this moment, Li Li's concern was like a timely help in the snow.

"…" She seemed a bit surprised by my formal address, unsure how to respond for a moment.

"Hey, you're too polite. Our relationship is such that when one is in trouble, the other feels it. Besides, I haven't really helped much." She spoke in a slow, gentle tone.

"Thanks for calling," I said, not knowing what else to say, so I added another thank you.

"Ah, it was Dai Yanzhi who kept coming to me. I did talk with Teacher Shan a lot at the start, but you know, our influence only goes so far within the Music Association. Beyond that, we have no way. And honestly, we think your other connections might be more useful than us." Actually, my thanks weren't really to ask for favors, but after I said thank you a second time, she began to emphasize her limited capability.

"Mm, I understand."

"To be honest, over the years, among our peers—actually, I should say nationwide—you're one of the most successful performers. Saying this directly isn't an exaggeration. We all think that to reach your level, luck is necessary. You know how many people envy you and want to harm you, openly or behind your back. The few I know are having a great time partying every day recently." She suddenly realized she'd said too much. Since her divorce, she had become more talkative, like she wanted to vent all the dissatisfaction from her marriage as other complaints. Before all this happened, whenever I met her, she'd seize every chance to chat more with me, "But forget them. I think since you've reached the heavens with your talent, you probably still have a chance to turn things around."

Her last words weren't really true—just meant to comfort me.

"You just need to soften your stance for now, keep your head down a bit. The leaders will remember your talent and influence and clear your name again. I'm not saying this because I want to criticize, but you did speak in a way that easily offends people before." She sensed my impatience and added, "But that's your personality. Some leaders might even like that about you."

I sensed a lot of lecturing, like something my mom would say.

"Besides Dai Yanzhi, did my mom contact you too?" I wanted to ask, but swallowed the question.

"Yeah. Got it." I wanted to hang up and find other connections to use.

I was truly determined to find help.

"Hey, we artists, our pride is for the lower ranks to see. The upper ranks just look down on such so-called pride. To those in power, it's all arrogance and ungratefulness. Some high-ups flatter me a little, but it's just politeness or they want something else." She went on, "In the end, playing piano is my job. Even if professionally we should have the final say, the one who pays the bill should be given some face. That's human nature. Talking about this doesn't even make me feel bitter anymore. You know, over the years we've made money and haven't neglected our professionalism."

"Mm, okay. Senior, thanks for your kindness." I couldn't help but interrupt her, "Dai Yanzhi called. Let's talk later. Say hi to Teacher Shan for me!"

"Okay. Haha, I'm like an old nagging mom, sorry. Bye!" She hung up politely.

Hmm, Dai Yanzhi didn't call me. Nor did anyone else.

Later, after many calls and texts, I finally got a dinner arranged. I don't remember whose favor it was, and probably that person didn't expect me to repay it. The winter evening banquet just happened like that. Naturally, I hosted the honored guests—among them was a broker I never cared for before, and one of the many Rinpoches. These two unrelated people probably just came along to do some fortune telling for the guests. Thick-skinned, they managed to freeload on my expensive meal and witness another side of a once-glorious artist. The proud grovel, the performer excels at social dancing. How rare that is.

Dai Yanzhi was not there; only I was. He couldn't bear to see me like this.

At the banquet, glasses clinked, but I was a poor drinker and already quite drunk. Conversations twisted around the table, mingling with the red lights and green shadows. Black smoke drifted into the clear soup, swallowed along with the translucent grains of rice. The lazy turntable spun automatically, passing my wine cup from my mouth to Leader A's and back again. Two female secretaries gleamed brightly, their bodies flawless, one cup after another urging me to toast Leader B. The clear wine glasses, the murky eyes, and the secretaries in front of me all blurred into the image of Lin Hui—how hateful. The intoxication subdued this absurd hatred, making forced smiles seem reasonable. I smiled, and two Lin Huis smiled back. The leaders were pleased; one laid a hand on my shoulder and patted my chest. They smiled again—I couldn't tell who was buyer and who was seller.

I had no memory of the dishes or drinks on the table, the cups and saucers, the windows and doors, the lights and curtains—everything was a vague burden of memory. That night's events, I wished never to recall.

The promises from the leaders were just words. Li Li said one thing that was most accurate, polite but polite nonetheless. I had already become someone behind the scenes; they were still on the stage, though someday, who knew, they too might fall behind the curtain. Sadly, when I was beneath, they could not see themselves below.

Of course, dignity is no longer their privilege. Before the banquet, I had already decided on a bottom price: as long as I could keep playing piano, anywhere would do—even if from now on I could only drift in a foreign land.

Later, I understood that a performer and a pianist are different: a true pianist does not need an audience.

In the spring of blowing yellow dust, I sold many of my properties in Beijing and discussed with my parents to keep only the Wanliu Academy—a place private and solid. It held many glorious memories, like a refuge in the desert. If I ever needed to return to Beijing, it could serve as a shelter.

Before the dust storms could take me away from Beijing, the city was already rarely visited by such storms in recent years. But that spring, the wind rose again, covering the entire city in yellow sand. I heard that before the Sahara's dust storm arrives, the winds from different places have different names; some bring rain mixed with dust, some bring fragrances straight to the Strait of Gibraltar, some stir up wildfires, and some blow destruction to villages at the edge of the desert. One village was destroyed; they migrated and rebuilt another. False dreams shattered, and there were still many dreams to realize.

I never dreamed of worldly success; they are just cunning, disguised as new dreams that occupy the dreams of childhood. I never dreamed of love—whenever love is mentioned, I want to smoke. When the wind pauses, I stand outside the window lowering my gaze as sand enters my eyes. I hurry inside and close the window.

Dreams and love, material desires and lust—they are so alike, only foolish women cannot tell the difference. How did I come to this?

"Ye Xi, they promised to withdraw the ongoing media attacks against you. For now, we'll rest, then think of a new strategy." Dai Yanzhi noticed I was lost in thought and said politely.

"Mm, okay." I responded.

"Thank you for your hard work." He didn't meet my eyes. "He called me, said he couldn't reach you."

He was comforting me.

"I know. Let me be alone for a while."

"This awful weather. I'll book you a ticket abroad to relax in a while."

"Mm, I'll book it myself."

Still not looking at me, I guessed he must be surprised.

The wind rattled the window again. I stood and left, sitting alone in the room.

"Echo is the soul of sound, inspiring oneself in the emptiness."

I have truly become a pianist.