Advanced Age

"Sure enough... it's happening again." Linlin held her guitar, her eyes filled with melancholy under the dim stage lights.

Last year, during the school festival performance, there had been some issues too—issues that became the final straw that nearly led to the disbandment of the Light Music Club. Linlin had hoped this performance could revive the club's popularity, but once again, things had gone wrong.

"Linlin..." Zhixia looked at her, concern written all over her face.

Though Zhixia was the club president, she was actually the more optimistic one. To her, simply playing music with friends was enough. Of course, she didn’t want the club to disband either, but more than that, she hated seeing her friend look so defeated.

Meanwhile, in the audience...

"Dad, why did the sound suddenly stop?" A little girl asked the man beside her—it was Qiaoqiao, Chen Hai’s daughter.

"Seems like they ran into some trouble, but it should be fine. They’ll probably fix it soon," Chen Hai replied, glancing toward the stage. Ye Shuang’s seat was further back, so he couldn’t tell if he had any backup plans.

Yinshan Academy really dropped the ball this time—such a big event, and they didn’t even check the equipment beforehand.

The audience was growing restless. As Ye Shuang had predicted, once the crowd’s enthusiasm cooled, reigniting it would be difficult.

It wasn’t just affecting the performers—it was ruining the experience for everyone.

"Director Anshi, is this an equipment issue?" One of the guests seated beside Anshi Yilang asked, clearly alarmed. After all, this performance was being livestreamed.

Wasn’t this technically a live broadcast disaster?

"It’s not an equipment problem. They’re probably just switching songs," Anshi Yilang said with a chuckle. "Look, that’s my granddaughter, Little Yu, on the drums. Isn’t she both cool and adorable?"

The other guests squinted hard, but the giant screen hadn’t panned to An Shiyu yet. The elderly men wrinkled their brows so tightly they could barely make out her figure.

Meanwhile, Chen Qin, also seated among the guests, rested her chin on her hand. Unlike the others’ confusion, her expression remained calm, her gaze fixed on Ye Shuang.

She believed he’d find a way to fix this.

......

"I can’t stand this..." Fat teardrops splashed onto Linlin’s guitar as she sobbed quietly.

This was supposed to be their big chance. She had just gotten into the rhythm—why did this have to happen?

Standing onstage now, she felt numb, as if she couldn’t even feel her own fingers anymore.

Ding—

A crisp piano note suddenly cut through the silence, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Boom-boom-boom—

Then came the rapid, rhythmic pounding of drums.

The piano keys flew under nimble fingers, fast, fluid, and breathtakingly beautiful.

"That rhythm... I know this!"

"Isn’t this Senbonzakura?"

The audience quickly recognized the tune—one of Hatsune Miku’s most famous songs. And just then, the spotlight shifted to two figures in the corner.

Ye Shuang sat tall at the piano, his fingers dancing across the keys, while beside him, under another spotlight, An Shiyu chewed gum lazily as she hammered away at the drums.

Their images appeared side by side on the massive screen, and with music that seemed to pull at the heartstrings, the frozen atmosphere instantly reignited.

"Holy crap, it’s the Princess’ song!"

"Senbonzakura! I love this one—it’s an anti-war song mocking Japan’s own history."

"Look! That’s my Little Yu! Isn’t she adorable?!"

Backstage, members of another club exchanged confused glances. "Huh? Wait, wasn’t Senbonzakura supposed to be our performance later?"

......

Glow sticks waved wildly again, dots of light filling the venue. Some audience members even started chanting along.

A microphone suddenly appeared in front of An Shiyu, and as the music surged, she lazily sang the lyrics in her native tongue:

"Daitan muteki..."

Meanwhile, Ye Shuang’s fingers blurred over the piano keys. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Seriously, forcing me to play a song I’ve never practiced before? And one this fast and difficult?"

Despite his internal complaints, his eyes scanned the sheet music on his phone at lightning speed, his hands never missing a beat. Somehow, his playing perfectly synced with An Shiyu’s drumming.

"But if we’re trying to save the show, this song’s a solid choice."

"Here I am, way past my prime, doing something this youthful and reckless..."

"Ah well. Might as well go all out."

Their flawless coordination quickly whipped the crowd into a frenzy. An Shiyu’s laid-back vocals oddly suited the song’s satirical tone, but Ye Shuang was suffering—his hands were practically ghosts at this point, and he’d never even played this piece before.

"This is insane. This arrangement is ridiculously hard... and it’s the complex version too," Zhixia muttered, stunned. She could clearly see Ye Shuang rapidly glancing at the sheet music on his phone. "This isn’t even meant for human hands, and he’s nailing it."

Linlin just stared blankly at their performance.

Then she remembered what Ye Shuang had told her earlier:

"Lean on us more. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself."

Her nose stung, tears welling up again.

Even the more musically inclined audience members were floored. "Wait, that piano speed—I couldn’t even fake it if I tried."

"Damn, that pianist’s a beast. After this, those piano strings could light a cigarette."

"I’m bowing down. This guy’s playing like he’s got four hands."

"It’s not about speed anymore—it’s about how many hands he actually has."

Finally, as the last note rang out, the crowd erupted.

"HOLY SHT!!!!!!!!"

But then—

The melody suddenly shifted, the piano now somber and slow.

"Huh?"

"No way—Call of Silence?!"

"Sasageyo, sasageyo!"

"Isn’t this Call of Silence?!"

Ye Shuang’s playing transitioned seamlessly into Call of Silence, and An Shiyu stopped drumming. The spotlight now focused solely on him.

Just then, a staff member gave a thumbs-up.

Ye Shuang’s fingers glided across the keys. Smiling, he turned to Linlin, who was staring at him in disbelief.

"Sing."

As the piano’s final note lingered, the song reached its climax. Trembling, Linlin gripped the microphone—singing the words she’d once been too afraid to face, pouring her soul into every syllable:

"YOU WILL KNOW YOU’RE REBORN TONIGHT——"

You will understand that tonight you will be reborn】

As the stage lights suddenly blaze to life across the venue, this moment has already become art.