Chapter 59 — The Music Competition
The auditorium buzzed with anticipation, the kind that made every chair creak and every whispered conversation sound louder than usual. Class F had performed first, followed by the remaining classes, each trying to impress with rehearsed songs and timid solos. The students had grown used to seeing talent displayed on stage, but when Bai Xia's turn approached, a quiet ripple of whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd.
"She speaks English fluently and plays instruments… could she have really studied abroad?" one student murmured, glancing sideways at her.
"The newspapers weren't exaggerating," another added.
Bai Xia walked calmly toward the piano, her back straight, the hem of her uniform swaying lightly with each step. Her expression was serene, but her eyes held a rare spark — the kind that told the audience she was about to bring something they had never seen before. She seated herself at the piano, letting her hands hover over the keys as the room fell into expectant silence.
She leaned toward the microphone and spoke softly, yet clearly.
> "The piece I will play is called Pirates of the Caribbean."
A judge furrowed his brow.
> "I've never heard of this piece before," he said skeptically.
> "It's something I composed myself. Please enjoy," Bai Xia replied, her voice calm, yet carrying a weight that made the room lean in slightly.
The students exchanged curious glances. A self-composed piece rarely drew attention, and the judges were skeptical. She had only thirty seconds to convince them of her skill, and the first notes fell lightly, like water spilling over stones.
The music began. Delicate at first, then growing in confidence, the piano's melody weaved through the auditorium. It was crisp, precise, and yet there was warmth — a richness that no ordinary school piano could produce. Students' eyes widened. Teachers and judges leaned forward, momentarily captivated.
And then, abruptly, the sound stopped. The keys no longer produced a note.
Bai Xia looked down at her hands, then up at the audience, her lips curling into a soft, knowing smile.
> "It seems my piano has stopped," she said lightly.
A sharp gasp echoed from the head judge, his patience thinning.
> "Student Bai Xia, if you cannot play an instrument today, you will be disqualified!"
The tension in the room was palpable. Students murmured among themselves, voices sharp with disbelief and mockery:
> "She played piano before, but can she actually play the violin?"
"I knew it — she's just pretending."
"She can't possibly know this much music."
"This is so fake."
"Maybe she just memorized something."
"She's cheating, I knew it."
"She's not all that, just pretending."
"Why is she still confident?"
"Her cousin said she couldn't play anything…"
"This is going to be a disaster."
Ignoring both the whispers and the judge's glare, Bai Xia rose gracefully and walked toward the violin resting on its stand. The crowd's whispers faltered slightly — something about her composure unnerved them. The head judge, expecting a bow of apology, instead saw her take the violin with confidence. His disapproval deepened, yet he remained silent, curious and wary.
> "Student Bai Xia, I suggest you leave the stage instead of embarrassing yourself," he said sharply.
Bai Xia's eyes remained forward, focused on the strings beneath her fingers. The audience quieted, intrigued despite themselves, sensing that something extraordinary was about to happen.
With a soft inhalation, she drew the bow across the strings, and the theme of Pirates of the Caribbean burst forth. The melody rolled through the auditorium like a tide, each note full and vibrant, flowing seamlessly from her instrument.
The students who had mocked her moments ago froze, captivated. The music was alive — playful, daring, and yet profoundly moving. Even the judges leaned forward, unable to hide their astonishment. The notes swirled around the room, wrapping every listener in a tapestry of sound so vivid that it felt as if the sea itself had entered the hall.
Every nuance of the violin rang clear, from the high, piercing notes to the low, throbbing undertones. The audience felt themselves transported into the world of the music — ships battling storms, waves crashing, cannons firing — all without leaving the auditorium. It was more than skill; it was artistry, precision, and emotion woven into a single performance.
When the final note lingered and died, the auditorium held its breath for a heartbeat before erupting into applause. The previous murmurs of mockery transformed instantly into admiration and awe. Students shouted excitedly:
> "She's incredible!"
"I can't believe it, she actually plays!"
"That was perfect!"
"How is she so talented?"
"I didn't think she could do it!"
"Wow, she's amazing!"
"This is unreal!"
"She made the violin sing!"
"I'm speechless, she's that good!"
"I take back everything I said!"
The judges, momentarily speechless, scribbled notes furiously, their earlier skepticism washed away by the sheer brilliance of her performance.
After all the scores were calculated, it was announced that Bai Xia would represent the school in the next-level music competition. The announcement sparked whispers and admiration alike — a student who had never formally trained could now carry the school's pride on her shoulders.
As she exited the auditorium, Bai Xia noticed two resentful gazes following her — Bai Gin, whose schemes had spectacularly failed, and Shang Shan, who had spent countless extra hours practicing the flute for this competition only to be overshadowed by someone who seemed to learn instinctively. Shang Shan's fists clenched, and her teeth gritted as she watched Bai Xia leave, silently vowing revenge.
Bai Xia waited at the school gate for Stella. A figure appeared from the crowd — Qing Lan, slightly hesitant but determined.
> "Bai Xia, I'm sorry," Qing Lan said, bowing slightly. "I was the one who turned off the piano. A girl lied to me, saying you couldn't play, and I… I believed her. I shouldn't have acted on it. I was too naive."
Bai Xia activated her Light of Judgment and saw a bright green aura above Qing Lan's head. She chose to forgive her, seeing the honesty and remorse in her heart.
Before Bai Xia could speak, Qing Lan added,
> "This doesn't mean I'll leave Zhou Liang to you. Stay away from him."
Then, without another word, she walked away. Bai Xia watched her retreating figure and smiled faintly,
> "This girl is really stupid," she murmured.
The day ended with the city buzzing about the performance. Whispers turned into excitement, disbelief into admiration. Bai Xia had not only won the competition but had transformed doubt into awe, proving her talent with grace and composure.
And as the sun set behind the school gates, Bai Xia felt the quiet satisfaction of someone who had, once again, brought a glimpse of the future into the present.