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Chapter 15 - Chapter 15 — When the Piano Plays, Even the Fairies Kneel?

Jiang Xun ate quietly, deciding that from this day on, he would erase the word initiative from his vocabulary.

Compared to the women of this world, his mind was as pure and unmarked as a blank sheet of paper.

After lunch, Jiang Xun politely declined Aunt Wen Lan's "thoughtful" offer of a chauffeur and bodyguard, then slipped out of the villa alone.

He needed somewhere to test the limits of his newly acquired skill—Piano Mastery.And what better place than Jinling University's Conservatory of Music?

As soon as he stepped through the campus gates, the air changed.

Gone was the raw scent of horses, sweat, and grass from the stables; here, the air was clear and cool, as if washed clean by a spring rain.

The teaching building stood ahead, an old red-brick structure covered in climbing ivy. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in soft patches of light and shadow.

The place was almost silent, save for the faint, intermittent sounds drifting from open windows—the tender hum of a violin, the crystalline rhythm of piano keys, the languid breath of a bamboo flute.

As Jiang Xun pondered where to find an empty practice room, a sound—clear, ethereal, and unexpectedly serene—floated toward him.

It wasn't the passionate surge of a piano, nor the lingering lyricism of a violin.It was something purer—like spring water trickling through a mountain stream, each note tingling with cool transparency.

Or perhaps like the chime of a temple bell on a moonlit night—subtle, distant, washing one's mind clean of noise and thought.

Jiang Xun raised a brow."Now that's interesting."

He followed the sound deeper into campus, until he reached a small two-story building standing apart from the rest.A carved wooden plaque hung over the archway, inscribed with elegant brushstrokes: The Hall of Refined Sound (Yayin Pavilion).

The music came from the second floor, behind a half-open door.

He approached lightly, peering in through the gap—and froze for a heartbeat.

The room was breathtakingly refined.

There were no modern instruments or electronics, only a few minimalist landscape paintings on bamboo scrolls hanging from the walls.In the corner, a bronze incense burner sent thin streams of sandalwood smoke curling upward.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the carved lattice window, spilling a golden beam across the floor.Tiny dust motes danced lazily in the air.

And in the center of that light sat a woman.

She wore a plain white dress, simple and unadorned, the soft fabric outlining her slender, graceful figure.Her jet-black hair, smooth as flowing ink, was gathered loosely with a wooden hairpin, revealing the elegant curve of her neck—slender, pale, swanlike.

Her skin was luminous, almost translucent under the sunlight.Her features were delicately sculpted, like fine jade—arched brows, calm eyes, a slender nose, lips tinted faintly with rose.

But her beauty was unlike Mu Qinxue's sharp, commanding presence or Su Qingyu's fiery allure.Hers was a beauty unearthly—quiet, ethereal, untouched by the dust of the world.

She looked like a goddess stepped out of a scroll painting, veiled in the cool glow of moonlight—so pure that one dared not approach for fear of marring the scene with mortal breath.

At that moment, her eyes were closed, and her slender fingers were gently plucking the strings of a guqin.Music flowed from her fingertips—clear, distant, otherworldly.

Jiang Xun's arrival was like a pebble dropped into still water.

He didn't knock.He simply pushed the door open.

"Creak—"

The delicate sound cut through the melody.The music broke.Silence fell.

The woman slowly opened her eyes.

And what eyes they were—clear as deep water, calm to the point of indifference.They held no surprise, no curiosity.When she looked at Jiang Xun, it was as if she were gazing at a tree, a stone—an intruder irrelevant to her world.

"This place is meant to be quiet," she said softly, her voice like her music—cool and crystalline, carrying a faint, dignified chill."Entry is by invitation only."

Jiang Xun didn't leave.Instead, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Good grief… people actually talk like this? Is this an ancient drama audition?"

He muttered inwardly, his gaze landing on the ancient seven-string instrument before her."Interesting toy," he said aloud, lazily.

The woman's brow creased—barely, but noticeably.

It was the first visible crack in her perfect composure, as if the flawless ink painting had finally been marred by a single stray stroke.

She took a closer look at him.

The man before her was casually dressed, hands in his pockets, posture loose, eyes carrying a trace of mischief.He radiated a modern, almost reckless energy that clashed violently with this timeless sanctuary.

He didn't look like a student—students were timid around her.Nor a faculty member—he lacked the bureaucratic stiffness.

He was an anomaly. A disruption.

"This instrument," she said patiently, "is a guqin, named Yaoguang."Her tone was calm but distant, the faintest displeasure hidden beneath."If you're interested in traditional music, you can sign up for an introductory class downstairs."

A polite dismissal.Meaning: You don't belong here.

But Jiang Xun acted as though he hadn't heard.He casually sat down on a bamboo chair beside her, crossing one leg over the other.

"Sign up? Too much paperwork."He smiled lazily. "I prefer one-on-one lessons."

Her calm expression finally darkened.For the first time, a spark of anger flickered in those tranquil eyes.

"Student," she said coldly, "show some respect."

"I'm being respectful," Jiang Xun replied, raising both hands in mock surrender."I'm just asking the teacher a question."

He nodded toward the guqin."How does that thing make sound?"

The sheer audacity of it left her momentarily speechless.

Taking a deep breath, she suppressed her irritation with visible effort.

As the youngest associate professor at Jinling University's Conservatory, Wen Wan had never met a student like this—this casually insolent, irreverently charming troublemaker.

Her students normally treated her with reverence, even awe.She was used to being the axis of her quiet world.

But this man had walked in and shattered that peace, carelessly, effortlessly.

Wen Wan's gaze lingered on his unnervingly handsome face, those playful eyes that seemed to see through everything.A flicker of something—challenge? curiosity?—stirred within her.

She suddenly didn't want to chase him away.

She wanted to see just how far this man's arrogance went.

Her eyes shifted toward the adjoining room.

Through the large glass window, a black Steinway grand piano gleamed in the light.

Turning back to Jiang Xun, she gave him a faint, challenging smile—still cool, but with a glimmer of provocation.

"From your demeanor," she said softly, "you must know a thing or two about music."

"I can… fluff cotton," Jiang Xun replied without thinking.

Wen Wan ignored the nonsense entirely.She rose gracefully, her white skirt swirling like a ripple of light around her legs.

Walking to the door, she gestured toward the piano room.Her voice was calm again, but her tone carried unmistakable authority.

"If you understand music, then show me.""That room holds a grand piano. Perhaps you can give this humble teacher a demonstration."

And though her words were polite, her eyes said something else entirely:

Let's see what you're really made of.

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