CH: 169 Young Master Lin, how about you demonstrate and teach me how?

{Chapter: 169 Young Master Lin, how about you demonstrate and teach me how?}

Lin Yuan had been sitting quietly all along, calmly watching Ye Feng's performance on stage.

He had to admit—Ye Feng's piano skills were indeed at a professional level. The way he handled the keys and his choice of music clearly showed years of training and experience.

However, what made Lin Yuan chuckle wasn't the performance itself, but rather Ye Feng's comments after the performance.

When Ye Feng casually remarked that the piano was of "mediocre" quality and that a few keys were not sensitive enough—implying it had compromised his performance—Lin Yuan couldn't help but laugh softly to himself.

Those words, while veiled in false humility, were actually quite offensive—especially considering the context.

It was a subtle insult aimed directly at the Mei family.

This was, after all, a banquet hosted by none other than the prestigious Mei family. And the piano Ye Feng had used was part of the event setup personally arranged by them.

By saying the piano was subpar—not once, but twice—Ye Feng was indirectly criticizing the host's choice of equipment. It was as if he were saying, "My performance would've been extraordinary… but the quality of the piano is mediocre and some keys are insensitive."

Sure enough, Lin Yuan noticed a shift in Mei Yuxian's demeanor.

The gentle, appreciative smile on her face faded the moment Ye Feng made the second remark about the piano. Her expression became cold, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she stared at the stage.

What Ye Feng thought was a harmless excuse to earn more praise ended up being a slap to Mei Yuxian's face.

Gui Qingtong, seated beside her, looked even more disgusted.

In her eyes, Ye Feng's arrogance had crossed a line. She already disliked him, but now she found him downright insufferable.

[Ding! Mei Yuxian is disgusted by Ye Feng! Reward: 200 Counterattack Points!]

[Ding! Gui Qingtong is disgusted by Ye Feng! Reward: 200 Counterattack Points!]

As expected, the system's crisp notifications rang out one after the other in Lin Yuan's mind, like musical notes of victory.

He remained calm and composed on the outside, but inwardly, he smiled.

Ye Feng, in his usual fashion, had tried to act humble while fishing for compliments. He was putting on a show—one Lin Yuan had seen through from the beginning.

While some in the audience might have believed Ye Feng's excuse and thought that his performance had been affected by the piano, Lin Yuan wasn't buying it for a second.

He knew exactly what Ye Feng was doing.

And so, with the system rewards in hand and the perfect moment presenting itself, Lin Yuan decided to strike.

He stood, glass of wine in hand, and spoke casually, but with unmistakable sharpness.

"In my opinion," Lin Yuan said, his voice calm yet cutting, "you didn't even reach the passing line."

It was a short statement—but it hit the room like a thunderclap.

The entire hall fell silent.

The cheers that had filled the air just moments before came to a screeching halt. The people who had been praising Ye Feng only seconds ago now turned their heads toward Lin Yuan, eyes wide with disbelief.

Everyone was stunned.

"What's going on with Young Master Lin?"

"He's saying Ye Feng didn't even pass? That's... bold."

To say such a thing publicly, especially after Ye Feng's well-received performance, was nothing short of audacious. Was Lin Yuan really that confident in his own piano skills? Or was he simply trying to provoke Ye Feng out of spite?

Given their earlier clash, many began to suspect the latter.

Even Ye Feng himself was momentarily stunned. His face twitched slightly, but he forced a smile and replied in what he hoped was a humble tone.

"Young Master Lin seems to have a deep understanding of the piano," Ye Feng said, lowering his head slightly as though in deference. "Would you be kind enough to point out what parts of my performance were lacking?"

Though his words were respectful, his tone carried a sharp undercurrent of challenge.

Ye Feng didn't actually believe Lin Yuan had any real piano skill. He figured Lin Yuan was simply taking the opportunity to strike back verbally after being upstaged on stage.

Besides, even if Lin Yuan had some minor piano experience, Ye Feng believed that his own performance just now had very few flaws. At worst, Lin Yuan might be able to nitpick something insignificant. And if Lin Yuan failed to do that—if he couldn't identify a single mistake—then the tables would turn instantly.

It would be as though Lin Yuan had slapped himself in public.

And Ye Feng could regain the upper hand with ease.

Many among the crowd began to murmur.

Some who were familiar with Lin Yuan whispered doubts to one another.

"Does Young Master Lin even know how to play the piano?"

"I've never seen him perform before…"

"If he can't back up his words, it's going to be embarrassing."

Ye Feng caught those murmurs, and a trace of triumph flickered in his eyes.

He believed that no matter how arrogant Lin Yuan was, he wouldn't dare go too far. Ye Feng had played well, and the piano—while not perfect—had done its job.

Now, the spotlight had shifted from him… to Lin Yuan.

And everyone was watching.

And so, with the tension in the air growing thicker, the crowd turned their full attention to Lin Yuan. Many of them couldn't hide the anticipation in their eyes. They were eagerly waiting for Lin Yuan to stumble, to say something foolish, to embarrass himself after making such a bold remark about Ye Feng's performance.

They were confident that this was just another case of someone trying to act superior without having the skills to back it up.

But to their surprise, Lin Yuan didn't show the slightest trace of panic or hesitation. His face remained calm, composed, and confident—as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

Then, in a quiet yet firm voice that carried easily across the hall, Lin Yuan began his critique.

"The first shortcoming," he said plainly, "is that your performance lacked emotion."

The statement alone sent ripples through the audience.

Lin Yuan continued, his gaze fixed on Ye Feng, "As many people know, Ballade pour Adeline by Richard Clayderman is not considered a technically difficult piece. It's accessible, and many amateur pianists can play it with ease. However, what sets apart a moving performance from a dull one is the emotional expression. It's a romantic piece—meant to stir feelings of warmth and longing. But when you played it... the melody felt cold. Dry. Lifeless. It had no soul."

A hush fell over the crowd.

Ye Feng's smile faltered for the first time. His facial muscles stiffened, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to recover his composure.

Because what Lin Yuan said—was undeniably true.

Ye Feng did have professional-level piano skills, and his technique was certainly well-practiced. But professional skill alone was not enough. Truly moving music required more than just technical precision—it demanded an emotional connection.

And Ye Feng knew that he had failed in that regard.

Earlier, his mind had been too distracted. He had been too focused on impressing the high-society ladies in attendance. Then, a few minor accidents and distractions had thrown off his concentration, and by the time he began playing, he was performing mechanically—without any real emotional depth.

But still, Ye Feng couldn't help but question: Why was Lin Yuan holding him to such high standards?

Sure, he lacked the emotional depth of a piano master, but how many people in the room could even tell the difference?

Most listeners wouldn't even catch such subtle nuances. His bass and treble were accurate, and from a technical standpoint, the performance was solid. It wasn't master-level artistry, but certainly good enough for the setting.

Why did Lin Yuan have to tear him down like this?

Ye Feng wasn't the only one thinking this. A number of people in the audience shared similar doubts. They felt Lin Yuan was being overly critical—maybe even unfair.

But before Ye Feng could respond or defend himself, Lin Yuan continued without missing a beat.

"The second issue," Lin Yuan said coolly, "is your instability. Several of your basic notes lacked proper strength and control. Some were missed entirely. That's not just about emotion—that's about precision."

Ye Feng's expression darkened.

He quickly responded, his voice tinged with irritation: "Young Master Lin, haven't I already explained? The issue lies with the piano. The keys are unresponsive. I didn't miss those notes due to a lack of skill—it was the instrument."

But before Ye Feng could continue making his case, Lin Yuan cut in sharply.

"And that," he said with finality, "is your third shortcoming."

Ye Feng was stunned into silence.

Lin Yuan's eyes sharpened slightly as he went on, "You've blamed the piano multiple times already. I'm not denying that the quality of the instrument matters. But you keep pointing fingers. A truly great pianist adapts to their instrument—flaws and all. What I heard today wasn't a poor performance because of the piano. It was poor because you lacked the ability to rise above those limitations."

Now the room was completely silent.

Ye Feng clenched his fists slightly. The confidence he had earlier was evaporating. He was not just being criticized—he was being dismantled in front of everyone.

To hear someone brush aside all of his efforts and treat his performance like it was meaningless—it was beyond humiliating.

He couldn't take it anymore.

Ye Feng stood up, glaring at Lin Yuan, and said coldly, "Since Young Master Lin has so many strong opinions about my performance… why don't you go up there and show us how you would play it?"

The challenge hung in the air like a sword.

Ye Feng wasn't the only one thinking it—many people in the crowd had been wanting to say the same thing. They looked at Lin Yuan expectantly, hoping this would finally be the moment he stumbled.

After all, to stand there and nitpick was easy. But to actually perform—under pressure, with everyone watching—was a different matter entirely.

In their minds, Lin Yuan was simply bluffing. They assumed he lacked the real skill to back up his criticisms.

They believed those three "flaws" he listed were simply fabricated—a way to insult Ye Feng without justification.

He was just a listener, after all. Why should he have the right to embarrass a performer with such harsh and public comments?

Now, the tables were turning.

If Lin Yuan refused to play, everyone would think he was all talk.

If he accepted the challenge and failed to impress, his earlier words would collapse like a house of cards.

The atmosphere in the room was now electric with tension.

All eyes were on Lin Yuan.

Would he back down?

Or would he rise to the occasion?