Chapter 70: Weren’t We Supposed Not to Cry?

The long dinner finally came to an end.

Director Lin Jiale entered to greet all the guests. After some polite exchanges, he began to explain tomorrow’s departure arrangements and the guidelines everyone must follow during the upcoming live-streamed journey.

In fact, each of their PDs had already sent detailed documents on these matters before they arrived at the Pink House. The director was reiterating these points in person to ensure they were taken seriously.

“With the pre-show hype, our ‘Exchange? Exes’ livestream has already reached 26 million reservations as of just now. I expect this number will continue to rise,” he announced. “We are about to launch a highly anticipated live broadcast. I know this will be an immense challenge for all eight of you and our entire production team. But I believe we can accomplish it together. Of course, a friendly reminder: since this is a real-time broadcast, every move you make will be presented to the audience, so please be mindful of your conduct on camera throughout the trip.”

“During the journey, we’ll be confiscating your phones. We’ve already discussed this with each of you, and there shouldn’t be any issues. Tonight is your last bit of free time—if you have matters to settle with family or friends, please make the most of it.”

After Lin Jiale finished speaking, Lu Zhou couldn’t help but chuckle and said, “Director Lin, you make it sound as if we’re saying our last goodbyes.”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Qi Jiajia, laughing a bit too excitedly, instinctively reached up and patted Lu Zhou’s shoulder. “Don’t jinx it! Quick, knock on wood.”

Wen Yiming: “???”

Li Jiayan, seeing this scene, clenched her hand tightly beneath the table.

Lu Zhou glanced out of the corner of his eye at the spot where Qi Jiajia had just touched him, visibly surprised as well.

To be honest, after filming “Exchange? Exes” for so long, this was the first time, in his recollection, that a woman other than Li Jiayan had touched him in such a familiar way.

“First time I’ve realized you have a sense of humor, Lu Zhou,” Director Lin replied with a smile.

Lu Zhou returned the smile, lips pressed together.

It was a small, amusing interlude.

Lin Jiale continued, “There’s just one more thing: we’d like your cooperation for a brief individual interview later. We’ll be asking some basic questions—if everyone helps out quickly, you can get to bed early.”

With that, Director Lin left the villa.

After a hearty meal, Wen Yiming and Zhang Chen were called away by staff for their interviews.

Li Jiayan pulled Lu Zhou over to the piano, wishing to challenge him to a face-to-face piano duel.

Tomorrow, they would set off on their journey, destination unknown. Tonight might be their last chance to spend time together in the little house. If things went well, perhaps there would be more to come; if not, they might never share this moment again.

All the more reason to cherish it while it lasted.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Li Jiayan felt a sudden wave of melancholy.

Lu Zhou sensed her strong desire to compete with him at the piano, so he agreed. “If you lose, you better not cry,” he said, lips curling in a gentle tease.

Li Jiayan sat at the piano, looking up at him with a dazzling smile. “How do you know you’ll win? Besides, without a judge, how can we decide who wins or loses?”

Lu Zhou smiled back. “You’re a piano teacher. You’ll know in your heart who played better.”

Just then, Ye Fangfei, seated on the sofa, perked up. “If you don’t mind, I can be your temporary judge.”

Lu Zhou glanced back at her. “Sure.”

The others—Chu Yao, Xu Junze, and Qi Jiajia—clapped enthusiastically, creating a stage-like atmosphere.

“So, which piece?” Li Jiayan’s tone was sweet and confident. “I’ll give you an advantage—choose anything you like.”

Lu Zhou sifted through his memory, unable to decide, so he turned to the impromptu audience. “What would you like to hear?”

Chu Yao and Xu Junze both looked blank, clearly out of their depth.

Qi Jiajia was thinking seriously, but only pop songs came to mind, unsure if any were suitable for piano. She quickly looked just as lost.

Ye Fangfei suggested, “How about ‘Chapter Seven of the Night’?”

Lu Zhou had no objections. He turned to Li Jiayan. “What do you think?”

“Are you sure? I know that one really well!” Li Jiayan raised her brows with a playful smile.

Lu Zhou’s lips curled. “As it happens, I’ve been practicing it lately too.”

Li Jiayan pulled up the sheet music for “Chapter Seven of the Night” on her phone and handed it to him. “Here you go, take a look.”

Lu Zhou tapped his temple. “No need—I’ve memorized it.”

Li Jiayan nodded and put her own phone away, choosing not to look at the music either.

“Lu Zhou, do you know where the difficulty in this piece lies?” She straightened her back, her voice dropping to a soft murmur.

“The key changes,” Lu Zhou replied, a faint smile at his lips. “And you need a quick mind.”

Li Jiayan’s face lit up with joy—this was the kind of understanding she craved in a fellow musician.

Yes, you needed a nimble mind, perfect hand-foot coordination, and masterful pedal work; otherwise, the resonance would blur together and become a mess.

Li Jiayan placed her ten fingers on the black-and-white keys, took a few silent seconds to compose herself, and began to play.

Beautiful notes poured from the piano, instantly brightening the eyes of everyone in the room.

Qi Jiajia couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow!” She didn’t know much about technique, but the music was lovely, and she felt a twinge of envy for Li Jiayan’s talent.

Chu Yao instinctively glanced at Xu Junze, and, as expected, found him thoroughly enjoying the performance.

Li Jiayan’s fingers danced effortlessly, each note clean and bright, entrancing the listeners.

Lu Zhou closed his eyes, listening. As the music went on, a smile began to tug at his lips. The arrangement was slightly altered but remained true to the original. It was challenging, but not impossibly so.

Ye Fangfei was completely immersed, too. It was a wonderful performance—Li Jiayan’s professionalism shone through.

The entire piece—three voices, rapid arpeggios, quick chromatic runs, octave tremolos, eight-and-a-half-note block chords, five-three trills—was handled with great skill. The left-hand leaps were precise, and the key changes flowed smoothly.

Ye Fangfei’s lips curved as she listened. Watching Li Jiayan at the piano inspired a surge of admiration, and she almost felt the urge to try playing herself.

When the last note faded, Li Jiayan rested her hands and took a moment to step out of the music’s emotional grip before turning to Lu Zhou.

“Well?” she asked with a quiet smile.

Lu Zhou met her gaze and led the applause. “Outstanding.”

The audience behind joined in, clapping warmly.

Li Jiayan yielded the piano bench, bowing slightly with a gracious gesture. “Mr. Lu, please.”

Lu Zhou responded with a soft laugh and took his seat.

“Listen carefully, then.”

Fingers poised on the keys, he spoke quietly to Li Jiayan.

For some reason, her heart skipped a beat—his confidence was unexpectedly captivating.

But when the music began, she was startled. She’d assumed he’d play it straight from the score, but he hadn’t; his version was rearranged, and quite different from hers.

At first, the technical difficulty was about the same, but as the piece progressed, the gap widened.

The longer she listened, the more astonished she became. She couldn’t help glancing back at Ye Fangfei, hoping to share her amazement with someone else who understood music.

Their eyes met, and though they exchanged no words, they both understood the emotion in each other’s gaze—utter surprise.

He was playing with three voices simultaneously!

What’s more, his interpretation had real depth, as if narrating a dark, compelling story: from plotting to execution, from whispers to relentless pursuit, from ease to desperate struggle, the demise of a life. Buried clues unearthed, the truth pursued, the full picture revealed, ending with a desolate sigh.

The arrangement was richly layered, the tempo varied and deliberate.

When the final note sounded, Li Jiayan silently shed tears—moved by the music and by how far Lu Zhou had progressed as a pianist.

He finished playing and left the piano. Turning around, he saw her tear-streaked face and raised his brows. “You promised not to cry. The judge hasn’t even given a verdict—are you admitting defeat so soon?”

Li Jiayan wiped her tears and smiled, content. “No need for a judge. I lost.”

Lu Zhou turned to the others. “That won’t do. We still need the audience’s opinion. What do you all think—who played better?” he asked, grinning.

Xu Junze said, “I’m just here to enjoy the show—I thought they were both great.”

Qi Jiajia echoed, “I don’t really know either, but they both sounded wonderful.”

Chu Yao commented, “Your posture looked a bit more impressive, but I think Jiayan’s version was prettier?”

Her words made Lu Zhou, Li Jiayan, and Ye Fangfei laugh.

Lu Zhou turned to Ye Fangfei. “What about you, Judge Ye?”

Ye Fangfei, in a playful mood, struck a pose of deep contemplation and declared, “I announce! The winner is…”

She exaggerated the suspense, drawing out the final word.

Everyone burst into laughter.

At last, Ye Fangfei waved her hand dramatically and pointed at Lu Zhou. “Him!”

Lu Zhou: “-_-||…”

He announced, at this moment, Ye Fangfei was only three years old—no more, no less.

Li Jiayan approached and poked Lu Zhou’s arm, her lips curved in a brilliant smile. “You really surprised me tonight.”

Lu Zhou was about to reply when music filled the air once more.

Both turned to see Ye Fangfei seated at the piano, playing the original version of “Chapter Seven of the Night” with effortless spontaneity.

She played for no other reason than an irresistible urge—a sudden whim.

As she played, she even began to sing.

For the onlookers who knew little of music, the thought was unanimous: tonight, the musicians are truly having a celestial duel!

Three updates done—my hands are nearly worn out.

If you like, search for the piano piece online and give it a listen.