Half-Hidden Behind the Pipa

Lingering tones faded as the listeners remained spellbound—Chu Lian's xiao performance of "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake" had dispelled every trace of agitation in the audience.

Whether they had malicious intentions or were simply there to mock her, their feelings had been transformed—first from complexity to clarity, and now back to unease.

They truly had no grounds left to doubt or criticize Chu Lian's musical talent. It might seem irrational, but in the face of such undeniable evidence, any arguments they had were empty and powerless. They had not a shred of valid proof to challenge her ability.

If it had been any other song, maybe they could dismiss it. But this was the globally acclaimed "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake." Even if they could tell that Chu Lian was still far from the original creator's level, her rendition was still leagues above countless others. And most crucially—she was only thirteen.

It was impossible to imagine what her future held.

They could already foresee the consequences: once this performance video spread online, those who had used others to attack her would surely suffer the wrath of her fans. Perhaps even the ones hiding behind the scenes would face backlash.

Many secretly breathed a sigh of relief—thank goodness they hadn't said anything mocking earlier. Otherwise, they'd now be seen as petty fools looking to pick a fight.

But that one seemingly casual glance from Chu Lian swept over the malicious ones in the crowd. In that moment, they felt as if all their actions had been laid bare. Her gaze seemed to say, "Your reckoning is near."

And as Chu Lian began her next performance—a traditional-style cover of Wang Fei's "Red Bean"—videos of her just-finished "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake" began spreading across the internet like wildfire.

"A musical prodigy appears out of nowhere, flawlessly soloing 'Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake' on the xiao."

"Clear as a mountain spring—'Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake' in xiao form."

"Moonlit lake with no mind, a single xiao cry from Chu Lian moves the heart."

"The most magnificent solo—newest rendition of 'Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake.'"

"The Jade Wave Fairy reborn, a celestial maiden descends—Chu Lian's xiao stirs the soul."

The titles were all long-winded and dramatic, but that didn't matter. Anything associated with Huaxia's most iconic piece, "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake," would inevitably go viral—especially performance videos.

Among these, the most striking was a video uploaded by the M Station user "Electromagnetic Muscleman," titled "On the Irrationality of Geniuses: A Flawless Performance That Silences All Doubt."

In the video description, he mockingly wrote a few lines: "True geniuses never bother responding with words. They respond with strength, showing what it means to be powerful."

"In fact, I might owe thanks to those who tried to smear her. If not for them, this performance of 'Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake' might not have happened so soon. Now, let's listen carefully, feel deeply, and immerse ourselves in her most splendid music."

"P.S. If you're still here with ill intent, do us all a favor and leave. You're not welcome."

The hottest topic on M Station in recent days had been the deliberate smear campaign against Chu Lian. Many had been waiting for the day she'd prove herself with a performance.

Since the school anniversary began, Electromagnetic Muscleman had already released two videos. One was of Chu Lian's guitar playing in the "Seven Rain" band, titled "Rise of the Next-Gen Youth Band? Genius Literary Girl or Musical Prodigy?" The second, just recently uploaded, was called "On the Unscientific Nature of Geniuses: Erhu Becomes Spirit!"

Honestly, just those two videos were enough to shut down most of the bandwagon haters. But unexpectedly, Chu Lian went even further. Clearly, her plan was to completely crush any malicious doubters—metaphorically slamming them to the ground and whipping them into silence.

Once the video "On the Irrationality of Geniuses: A Flawless Performance That Silences All Doubt" went live and was featured on the homepage just minutes after approval, people clicked on it immediately—and then couldn't stop watching, replaying it obsessively while showering it with praise.

The buzz spread like wildfire across the internet.

As "Red Bean" came to an end, Chu Lian stood onstage, hugged the xiao to her chest and bowed, then set it down and brought out her next instrument—the pipa.

But it wasn't just the pipa. A layer of sheer white veil now covered the lower half of her face, leaving only the upper portion visible.

Cradling the pipa, she sat gracefully onstage, alone, undisturbed. No one dared interrupt. No one made a sound.

The audience had swelled to over three hundred. The nearby stages had lost their performers, who had all joined the crowd. More people continued to stream in. At this rate, the area was going to overflow. Combined, her stage and the surrounding platforms could only hold about seven to eight hundred spectators.

Yet the atmosphere truly felt like a superstar concert—so many people packed tightly together, yet orderly and silent, all just to listen to her music.

Her figure, delicate as a willow in the wind, her flowing white dress like drifting clouds, her long black hair cascading behind her and dancing slightly with the breeze. Her eyes gazed down at the crowd as her slender fingers plucked the strings. A sorrowful melody emerged, and she parted her lips beneath the veil to sing with a voice that was pure and airy:

First, best not to have met, then there'd be no love to forget.

Second, best not to have known, then longing wouldn't have grown.

Third, best not to accompany, then no debt emotionally.

Fourth, best not to cherish dear, then there'd be no memory near.

Fifth, best not to fall for thee, then I'd not feel abandoned, see.

Sixth, best not to face at all, then we'd not meet nor fall.

Seventh, best not to mislead, then hearts would not be deceived.

Eighth, best not to make a vow, then no regrets would linger now.

Ninth, best not to rely, then no leaning and sigh.

Tenth, best not to ever see, then no union would come to be.

But having met, how can we forget?

Meeting pales to times unmet.

How to break off with you so dear?

Lest life and death become longing here.

"The Ten Commandments Poem" was the first piece from her previous life that didn't exist in this world. It also reflected her deepest emotions from her past, which made it particularly precious to her. She had read it countless times, treasuring every line. Though the ending had been far from ideal, it had nothing to do with the poem. She still loved it dearly.

This pipa solo version of "The Ten Commandments Poem" had come to her in a flash of inspiration upon seeing the instrument. She searched the system for musical adaptations of the poem, selected her favorite version, and exchanged it for use in this performance.

The exchange price for "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake" was exorbitant—even discounted by its presence in the current world, it still exceeded 3,000 Culture Points. In contrast, since "The Ten Commandments Poem" didn't exist here, both the music and vocal components together cost her only 5,000.

Even so, it was worth every point spent. After unleashing the powerhouse that was "Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake," the internet buzz shifted in her favor. Now, the emergence of "The Ten Commandments Poem" helped ensure people wouldn't forget the title "Genius Literary Girl Chu Lian" amid the praise for her musical talent, effectively paving the way for her next book release.

The sorrowful sound of the pipa, and the heart-wrenching lyrics drifting out from behind the veil, paired with her delicate voice amplified by "Lacus Clyne's Microphone," carried clearly to the entire audience.

It was undoubtedly another brilliant piece. It wasn't just her exquisite pipa technique that perfectly expressed the song's meaning. Her appearance—half-veiled, half-revealed—was intentionally styled to stir hearts. But most of all, it was the lyrics that pierced straight through.

This poem, beloved by countless readers in her old world, now appeared in a new form here, moving hearts even more deeply. It gave everyone a glimpse into the depth of emotion hidden in that petite body.

When the final line, "How to break off with you so dear? Lest life and death become longing here," was softly sung for the seventh and final time, her voice fell silent. Only the closing instrumental remained—nearly a full minute of gentle pipa notes.

When the last string fell quiet, she removed the veil and smiled at the audience below. Her fingers still toyed with the strings, producing the occasional soft pluck of sound.

After a long moment, the audience, who had been lost in the world she created, finally awakened. One person began to applaud. Then a second. A third. Until everyone joined in, and thunderous applause burst forth like a tidal wave—drawing even more people to the stage.

Those in attendance had been completely won over by the little girl on stage. With her unparalleled musical talent, she had turned most of them into die-hard fans. This was the power of a true master.

"This melody must be from the heavens—how rare to hear such music in the human world." This was the most common sentiment expressed afterward by those who witnessed her performance of "The Ten Commandments Poem."

With a smile, she stood, bowed once more, and sat back down. Her fingers strummed the strings, and she began to sing again—it was the song "Having You in My Life," which she had already performed earlier that morning.

But now, accompanied by her skilled pipa playing, the song carried a new kind of charm—captivating all who listened...