Chapter 61: Classical Beauty

Two men entered, followed by a cluster of bodyguards. Both wore hats, standing atop the highest observation deck. Someone shouted loudly, “Xu Chu Yin, is that your brother next to you?” The entire crowd erupted, turning to look behind them.

Then someone recognized him and called out, “Xu Yao Chuan! You’re so handsome! I want to be your girlfriend!” The audience cheered, yet Xu Yao Chuan remained silent.

The president of Haiyan University could hardly contain his delight; this year’s art festival had drawn so many influential figures! Next year’s admission rates would surely soar!

Zhong Huayan gazed into the camera lens, feeling as though the eyes beneath that black baseball cap were snake-like, fixed upon her. Blood storms brewed within the shadow. Suffocating tension coiled around her, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

So sinister.

He never appeared at such events unless he already knew what would happen today.

Even separated by the camera, she found herself struggling to withstand the pressure. This day was destined to be tumultuous.

“The next act—let’s welcome Xu Yuan from Jingfu University, presenting piano and classical dance!”

Xu Yuan, wearing a white chiffon dress layered with an orange overskirt and simple hair accessories, took her seat at the piano and began to play.

Zhong Huayan was surprised—Xu Yuan hadn’t plagiarized her composition this time, but played an original piece!

The rhythm was crisp, her technique impeccable, and the melody carried an ancient charm, yet the piece lacked a distinctive identity.

After finishing the piano performance, she began her classical dance, the swirling of her sleeves and the intricate legwork executed at a flawless level. The dance’s rhythm fit seamlessly with the music. Midway, her hairpin fell, but her face bloomed like a peach blossom, loose hair fluttering like silk in the air. As she spun, every movement fitted perfectly, light illuminating her features, as if Moonlight Sonata had spilled across shimmering water.

Zhong Huayan thought Xu Yuan had certainly worked hard; this performance was leagues above her last! The dance’s fluidity had visibly improved, even the timing was spot on.

When she finished, thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

“Thank you.”

Members of the arts association praised her repeatedly. Had the piano not been scheduled after Fang Wenjin—the prodigy—the score might have been even higher.

“This dance truly deserves to be called a masterpiece. She’s undoubtedly talented. The way she can bend her waist so naturally, and her timing is excellent—I’d give ninety points.”

“I think eighty is fair. Last time, Jingfu had some hidden talents. If we score too high now, what about the others?”

The arts association settled unanimously—eighty points!

Though eighty was not a high score, most performers that day would likely fall short of it.

“Thank you, Xu Yuan, for your classical dance. Speaking of Chinese cultural heritage, next up is Li Yanyan presenting pipa and Kunqu opera!”

Haiyan University’s art festival had arranged the acts cleverly, placing Xu Yuan and Li Yanyan’s performances side by side.

Anyone could see this was a showdown.

Videos of the dance were being uploaded on forums. After all, only thirty percent of Jingfu University’s students could attend in person.

[Wow, they’re going head-to-head again!]

[Last time, didn’t Xu Yuan accuse Li Yanyan of plagiarism? If that’s true, it’ll show this year!]

[I’m honestly crying—Sister Li switched to pipa just to avoid slander!]

[Honestly, Xu Yuan is amazing, but Li Yanyan is too. Even as an outsider, I find her Kunqu opera incredible!]

Zhong Huayan’s attire was entirely different. Today she wore a long, water-blue robe, white gardenia jade ornaments atop her head, her hair just falling past her waist. In her arms, she held a pipa, half-concealed as if hiding behind it.

She walked forward step by step, then, as the lights dimmed, the spotlight fell upon her.

Her robe was translucent blue and white, like the waterfall of the Milky Way descending from heaven, moving with the breeze.

She played the pipa while singing lines from “The Peony Pavilion.”

But this was not the traditional “Peony Pavilion.”

Zhong Huayan always believed that the beauty of Kunqu lay not in costume or posture, but in the script and the rhythm of the lyrics.

One must sing with both charm and harmony with the pipa, requiring a rewritten melody and script.

The pipa’s sound was clear but unhurried. She sang with grace and, as her voice and music blended, everyone was enchanted.

“Green mountains, snow falls, frost departs, bamboo fills the garden without scent. Beautiful moments, moonlit nights, drunken wanderings, soaring like wild swans. Stepping into unknown melodies, the sound of flutes dissolves into water and becomes immortal, mist rising to dance, fragrance spreading across the fields, entering whose courtyard…”

The lyrics grew richer with each listen.

After finishing the Kunqu aria, she set down the pipa and danced to the backstage recording of “The Peony Pavilion.”

Even silk could not match the fluid grace of her figure; as she lifted her sleeves, water seemed to splash, her movements as light as startled swans, as if a swimming dragon. She was like the moon veiled beneath light mist and drifting clouds, floating like the wind.

She danced so smoothly, the light itself seemed to merge with her, like a ribbon playing in the breeze.

While dancing, she gracefully pulled out her hairpin, letting her dark hair cascade. Her waist bent low, then she turned gently, the entire sequence flowing like clouds and water, utterly captivating.

Her body could only be described as jade-like—she needed no dance to exude fragrance simply by walking.

Then, as the music intensified, her performance grew sharper; now the startled swan became a blade of icy chill, a sword dancing drunkenly.

A split, a leap, a spin—each movement exuded steely vigor, evoking dreams of ancient battles and winding rivers.

Cold and desolate.

At the finale, she lifted the pipa to half-cover her face and began a classical dance, greatly increasing the difficulty, yet she did not lose her grace. Instead, she infused her expression with the spirit of Kunqu.

She sang as she danced, sometimes improvising on the pipa, leaving countless spectators in awe. The whole venue fell silent.

People were so captivated that even when Fu Yanyan walked to the front row surrounded by university leaders ten minutes earlier, no one noticed.

Even Fu Yanyan was inwardly impressed, drawn in by her performance, momentarily lost in thought.

Xu Yao Chuan, watching from afar in his black baseball cap, could hear his own heartbeat amid her dance of green mountains and blue waters. He had never imagined a woman could be so courageous, so learned, so unafraid of life and death, and yet so tenderly perform classical dance and sing Kunqu!

He remembered the feel of her waist the last time he’d stopped her—it had been soft and slim. Now, recalling the moment…

Ah, she truly was a rare beauty.

Fu Yanyan’s woman? Not just a beauty, but one that inspired a desire for conquest.

What other surprises did she hold that he had yet to discover?