Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Yu Sili came from a good family and was good-looking.

He was the teacher’s favorite and a prominent figure among his peers.

Proud as he was, even his confessions were spectacular.

That June, at the graduation ceremony,

Yu Sili spoke on behalf of all the students.

Suddenly, he tossed aside his speech script and said,

“Li Li, now that the college entrance exams are over, be my girlfriend.”

Screams erupted across the field.

The senior students had been holding back for so long.

That confession was like a gap torn open, and everyone let their pent-up emotions pour out.

Amid the surging cheers,

Yu Sili leaped off the stage and ran toward me.

Even now, five years later,

I still can’t forget how dazzling he looked that day.

Later, someone asked Yu Sili, why me-

when well over half the school’s girls secretly had a crush on him, the school belle included.

I wasn’t popular; I kept to myself.

Why would he pick me?

Yu Sili said, “I once came across Li Li practicing the piano. She was playing Eason Chan’s ‘Long Time No See.’ I’ve thought about it for three years ever since.”

The school belle argued, “But she hasn’t touched the piano in a year.”

“Only because she doesn’t want to. Our Li Li, if she wants to play, she plays; if she doesn’t, then she doesn’t.”

“It’s not that she doesn’t want to,” the school belle sniped, “she used to be so hyped up, yet she couldn’t even pass the preliminary exam for the Central Conservatory of Music…”

That day, Yu Sili lost his temper quite badly.

After that, no one ever dared to say a single bad word about me in front of him again.

Yet, Yu Sili did not know.

The reason I stopped touching the piano wasn’t because I didn’t want to.

It was because I couldn’t.

I started learning piano at five, and passed Level 10 at nine.

After a performance when I was sixteen, a renowned piano master personally sought me out.

He encouraged me to take the entrance exam for the Central Conservatory of Music, to become his prized student in the future.

I thought my future stretched ahead bright and clear.

Until, just before the arts exam, I was in a car accident.

My left hand was severely damaged.

The doctor did everything to salvage it, but lasting impairments remained.

I could no longer play the piano.

Under the slightest strain, my left hand would tremble uncontrollably.

My mom urged me to repeat a year and take the exam again.

But I wouldn’t listen.

In youth, who doesn’t have soaring ambition and refuses to bow to fate?

Stubbornly, I took the exam.

But I played terribly.

The examiners, frowning, interrupted me and said, “Next.”

I also overheard whisperings.

“So this is the piano prodigy? I thought she’d be more impressive.”

Later, when the preliminary results were posted, my name was not on the list.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me, drenching me through.

From then on, I became introverted and quiet.

When classmates asked me, “Li Li, why don’t you play the piano anymore?”

I would say nonchalantly, “I just don’t feel like it anymore.”

That was my last shred of pride.

Because I didn’t want them to see me as a broken person.

And even less did I want their pity.

Pity is an arrogant emotion.

But the news of my failing the preliminary exam soon spread throughout the school.

My classmates said, “What a liar. She couldn’t even pass the prelims, yet claims she just doesn’t want to play. How ridiculous.”

Because of that lie, I became a laughingstock.

But I’d rather be mocked and disliked

than become an object of pity.

And so I never explained.

Yet, the tragedy did not end there.