172. The Pianist: I Have No Talent, Xiling: But I Want You
Melodious music seeped continuously from the dazzling array of shops on both sides, the open windows, and the bustling crowds. Despite their diverse styles and interwoven melodies, they surprisingly resonated harmoniously in this space, weaving a symphony together.
"Hmm…this place is a bit different from the previous ones." Placidusax's cool expression remained unchanged, but her tone softened slightly.
In the past few days, she had experienced her share of urban events. As the queen of the ancient dragon clan, she had rarely witnessed such things, or rather, she had never seen anything like it before. In her era, power was everything, and in the Silver Age when she awoke, such things wouldn't have happened.
"This is Lane 9, also known as Sound Alley. In the back alleys, this is probably one of the safest places, if that incident hadn't happened." Xiling glanced around as he replied to Placidusaxs.
Lane 9—the origin of the first major, disruptive event that shook the entire City after the Seed of Light pierced the sky: the Pianist Incident.
This was precisely the core objective of Xiling's journey. He came here to find the pianist, but not with the intent to end his life.
The catastrophe of 300,000 people needed to be reversed, and the abyss of despair of one person also needed redemption.
As Xiling searched for the pianist based on his premonition, Placidusax's eyes scanned everything around her.
Lane 9 was a very nice place. Here, people's expressions were no longer as numb as elsewhere. Vibrant smiles could be seen on their faces. Parents held their bouncing children's hands tightly with doting smiles, and couples in love walked arm in arm, laughing softly, oblivious to their surroundings.
One couple in particular stood out. They nestled against the window of an ice cream shop, sharing a scoop of vanilla ice cream drizzled with chocolate sauce, oblivious to everyone else. One bite for you, one bite for me, sweetness exchanged between our lips. Finally, as the last spoonful of ice cream disappeared from each other's tongues, their lips naturally pressed together, passionately seeking each other's warmth and breath.
This act was completely foreign to Placidusax, like deciphering an unknown ritual. A pure bewilderment surfaced in her eyes. She gently reached out and tugged at Xiling's hem with her fingertips.
"What are they doing?"
"Hmm?" Xiling turned around in confusion, following her gaze. When he saw the couple passionately kissing, Xiling muttered softly, "Cough...the people here are really...open."
Looking at Placidusax's incomprehensible gaze, Xiling considered how to phrase it.
"...Just hormones at play."
Placidusax: "...My king, sometimes your words are as incomprehensible as the melody in this alley."
Xiling raised a hand to rub his temples: "...Simply put, it's a way for two humans who are attracted to each other and like each other to express intimate feelings."
Still, Xiling truly didn't understand these things.
Placidusax nodded somewhat disappointedly, turning to look at the couple, her eyes gleaming with a certain light.
"Expressing...emotions?"
The ancient dragon race didn't have the concept of male-female pairing for reproduction; they were primordial life forms, so they didn't understand love and affection, and never even considered such things.
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Xiling's gaze searched the crowd for his target, and guided by the hero's premonition, he successfully found him.
Standing in the dark alley was a disheveled man, and that was the target he was looking for.
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"I'm so hungry..." His stomach rumbled in protest. The man could only wearily rub his stomach, trying to soothe it, but this only elicited louder protests.
"Hopefully, someone will hire me today. I haven't eaten for days. Even just a bite to eat would be enough." With this thought in mind, the man dragged his weary body towards the entrances of several bars, intending to ask if they needed a pianist.
But honestly, the man had no idea whether these bars would hire him. He could only pray, pray that someone would let him play a piece. He had no other choice; after all… he had no talent.
Perhaps he should have given up playing the piano long ago and looked for other work, but… when that light rose, a light shone again in his previously numb heart. The thought of giving up the piano was rekindled and strengthened even more. He accepted the reality of his lack of talent, but he… truly loved the piano. He wanted to play, he wanted to play piano.
One, two, six, seven.
When he mustered his last ounce of strength and knocked on the eleventh tavern—a shabby little bar with a crooked sign—a miracle occurred. The impatient face behind the door, tinged with disdain, reluctantly nodded.
Even though it was just a shabby tavern filled with the smell of cheap alcohol and billowing smoke. Deafening shouts of drinking games, rude curses, uncontrolled laughter, and disgruntled complaints surged and collided like a turbid tide in the cramped space.
The pianist dragged his heavy steps to the piano. He took a deep breath and carefully smoothed every crease on his wrinkled collar with his fingertips—his only remaining ritualistic devotion to the piano.
He sat down, his fingers landing on the black and white keys.
The performance began.
The notes flowed out with perfect precision, the rhythm as steady as a mechanical pendulum, the melody as beautiful as a textbook example, perfectly matching the popular song the tavern owner had casually tossed him to play.
But that's all.
Too standard, too rigid. The notes lacked dynamism, the melody devoid of variation.
No pain, no joy, no longing, no despair. He was like a programmed machine, faithfully striking out every required sound, but failing to produce the soul of music.
This was… the shackles of lacking talent.
Standard music filled the tavern, but no one paid attention. The pianist didn't care, for he was playing simply for the sake of playing, and of course, filling his stomach was a bonus.
He ignored the chaotic sounds, lost in his own world, until footsteps approached, and a drunken man put his hand on his shoulder, shouting, "Get out! What kind of rubbish are you playing? Get out of my way and let me do it!"
The man was clearly drunk, trying to pull the pianist off the piano, but the pianist didn't budge. This was his performance; at least let him finish this piece. But the man didn't care.
Just as the tavern owner was about to speak…
A voice suddenly rang out.
"The one who should get lost—isn't that you instead?"
The tavern's clamor seemed to be abruptly strangled by an invisible hand, falling into an instant deathly silence. Even the pianist's fingertips on the keys are frozen. All eyes, filled with astonishment and bewilderment, focused on the source of the voice—a white figure rising from the shadows in the corner.
Whispers broke the brief silence like pebbles thrown into stagnant water:
"Who's that? Was he sitting here just now?"
"I don't know, I drank too much just now…"
"Tsk, dressed like that… he shouldn't be in a place like this!"
The figure everyone was discussing was Xiling, who had followed the pianist here, and Placidusax, who was sitting beside him.
The drunkard who had tried to pull the pianist away, even though the alcohol was still numbing his senses, as someone who had roamed the back alleys, had a survival instinct ingrained in his bones—you have to soberly judge whether the person in front of you is someone you can mess with.
He didn't recognize the stranger before him, but discretion was the better part of valor!
"I-I'm so sorry! I've disturbed your enjoyment! I'll be leaving right now! Right now!" The man bowed deeply, his head almost touching his knees, his voice trembling with panic.
He didn't even dare to run immediately, cautiously peeking at Xiling's reaction. Only when he saw a nod of approval did he feel a sense of relief, staggering out of the tavern as fast as he could. His friends, however, didn't dare move. If they rushed out with him now, wouldn't that mean they were in cahoots?
Xiling ignored the fleeing drunkard, turning instead to the pianist, still somewhat dazed on the piano bench. A genuine smile spread across his face, and he gave him a thumbs-up:
"Not bad."
"...Huh?" The pianist froze, Xiling's words reverberating and echoing in his mind.
What did he say? ...Did he say...I played well? He praised me? Praised me!
The pianist, startled and somewhat stiff, pointed to himself.
"You said I played well?"
"Yes, why?" Xiling genuinely thought the pianist played well.
Perhaps in this world the pianist lacked talent, but in other worlds, he would be considered a master.
At that moment, the pianist felt everything around him distorted. The man with the gentle, radiant smile not only came to his rescue but also gave a thumbs-up to his performance, which he himself had labeled "soulless."
He had been affirmed!
His piano, which he had considered worthless, had, for the first time, received clear recognition from someone else!
Seeing the pianist's bewildered expression, Xiling patted him on the shoulder with a smile.
"You'll probably continue playing, right? I haven't heard you finish your piece yet; it would be a shame not to."
"You...you still want to hear me play?"
—To hear the playing of someone as talentless as me.
"Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here," Xiling said with a smile, withdrawing his hand and returning to the dilapidated table and chair under the pianist's gaze. He watched him with a smile, as if awaiting his next performance.
The pianist stared at the white figure, stunned for a long time.
No one urged him, and the tavern fell silent. He simply watched the figure.
A clear thought, like the dawn breaking through the chaos, suddenly illuminated the darkness in his heart:
—I cannot let this person down!
The confusion was dispelled, and the stagnation was ignited.
He took a deep breath, his fingers returning to the keys.
His performance officially began. His playing was still as precise as ever, but this time it carried a certain will. The beautiful piano music echoed in the quiet tavern.
As the last note slowly dissipated into the air like a sigh, the pianist was panting, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He raised his head, trembling slightly, looking towards the corner with a faint glimmer of hope.
He was greeted by applause from only one person.
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"
The clear applause was particularly loud in the silence. Xiling stood up, his signature smile on his face.
"Impressive! Impressive!"
Hearing the praise, the pianist smiled.
Did I...not disappoint him?
Xiling smiled and approached, his gentle voice reaching his ears clearly:
"You must really like the piano, right? You enjoy playing it?"
Almost without hesitation, the pianist nodded.
"Yes! I love the piano! I...I love playing!"
"That's right." Standing beside the pianist, Xiling extended his hand under his gaze.
"I'd like to apply for you to be a pianist at our firm."
Looking at the person with the bright smile extending their hand, the pianist, for some reason, felt a little hesitant at this moment.
"I…I really can't…I have no talent, I'll only disappoint you…" He couldn't look Xiling in the eye.
"Someone like you…should be looking for exceptionally talented, brilliant musicians…"
Compared to him, the other was too dazzling; he…wasn't good enough for him.
However, that outstretched hand, with undeniable strength and warmth, took his hand and gently pulled him up.
Xiling looked directly into his bewildered eyes and declared clearly, word by word:
"What I want is you. So, Mr. Pianist, what's your answer?"
Those bright eyes held no trace of jest or pity, only pure, unwavering determination.
He was telling the pianist an undeniable fact with his eyes: I'm serious.
Why?
Confusion and disbelief overwhelmed him again.
He had no talent, no fame, no value…what did the other want?
Was he planning to capture him for some terrible experiment? Otherwise, why was he so fixated on someone as worthless as him?
But…
He was the only one who acknowledged me!
Throughout his long and arduous piano career, endless indifference and ridicule washed over him like an icy tide. Only this man before him not only stood up for him in his most vulnerable moments, but was also the only one who stood before him, even after he affirmed himself as a "talentless person," extending a helping hand to this soul abandoned by The City! Danger? The unknown? These thoughts were utterly fragile in the face of overwhelming gratitude and longing. He couldn't refuse this light that illuminated his life.
He gripped Xiling's hand tightly, as if grasping a lifeline, or perhaps his own lost faith, his voice trembling with resolute determination:
"...If you're truly willing...to accept someone as talentless as me...I'm willing to follow you...to give you everything!"
Xiling laughed out loud:
"Haha, it's just letting you play the piano to your heart's content, not asking you to sacrifice yourself. Relax!"
He patted the pianist's shoulder, turned, and pointed to the door:
"Come on, let's go back to the agency. That's your future home."
"...Yes!" The pianist nodded with all his might.
As Xiling and Placidusax walked side by side out of the dilapidated tavern, a man joined them.
In his eyes, the long-extinguished flame reignited, a faint yet persistent light.