Chapter 41: Envy

The arrival of Yike and Wenwan immediately drew the attention of many. Dressed elegantly and possessing striking features, it was clear at a glance they were people of wealth or status. The group stood by the table exchanging pleasantries, inevitably attracting curious glances.

Cheng Feng did not act on his own initiative, but first sought Antong’s opinion. “Miss An, shall we... invite Miss Wen and Young Master Yi to sit and chat?” he asked.

“Senior Yi, Miss Wen, please, let’s sit and talk,” Antong replied calmly, prompting Cheng Feng to quickly gesture invitingly. Old acquaintances meeting again—unsurprisingly, the four soon found themselves sharing a table.

Yike sat beside Antong, studying her with astonishment. “You’ve really changed a lot. No wonder I didn’t recognize you. You don’t smile much anymore.”

Antong idly rubbed her water glass and, hearing this, cast a faint smile at Yike.

Yike sighed and ran his hand across his forehead. “Alright, alright, don’t force yourself if you don’t want to smile. I was just making an observation.”

Despite his words, he still felt uneasy. The Antong he remembered was a bright, cheerful girl, radiant as forsythia in spring—lively and full of energy. But now, she was so quiet and serene, her subdued expression weighed down by something heavy.

Across the table, Cheng Feng watched Yike reminiscing and discreetly interrupted, “Young Master Yi, Miss Wen, please have a look at the menu and order a couple more dishes.”

Yike turned to Wenwan, tapping his knuckles on the table as he spoke. “Little Antong and I studied under the same master. She passed the tenth level piano exam at fourteen. Our teacher had high hopes for her, intent on grooming her for the conservatory. She was one of his prized students.”

Antong responded humbly, “I was only an amateur.”

Whether amateur or professional, passing the tenth level was impressive.

Because—

“Miss An, are you also a student of Master Xinberman?” Wenwan’s lips parted slightly, her eyes shining with admiration and a hint of envy.

Xinberman, the foremost piano master in the country, hailed as the “Soul of Piano Education.” His requirements for accepting students were notoriously strict—high tuition, but even more emphasis on talent and character. Those he taught often made a name for themselves in the arts both at home and abroad. However, he stopped accepting students five years ago and retired overseas.

Yike, visibly proud, asked, “You joined the teacher at eight or nine, right?”

“Eight,” Antong replied.

She showed neither pride nor conceit at having studied under Xinberman.

Compared to her composure, Yike continued to praise her. “She broke my record of passing the tenth level at fifteen. Her talent is extraordinary.”

Wenwan sincerely exclaimed, “Miss An is truly outstanding.”

She felt no jealousy, only a sense of inadequacy. Years ago, she had tried to apprentice under Xinberman, with her father personally reaching out, but Master Xinberman still refused. Talent and aptitude cannot be faked. Wenwan knew her own achievements in piano were far from remarkable.

Presently, Yike and Wenwan ordered two more dishes, while Cheng Feng, shocked, secretly sent a WeChat message under the table.

Cheng Feng Breaking Waves: Ninth Master, did you hear? Miss An is Xinberman’s student!!!

At the top of the chat page was a fifty-nine-second voice message. Cheng Feng had recorded Yike’s earlier words. Yet, the message vanished into silence; the man did not reply for a long time.

Out of courtesy, Cheng Feng refrained from constantly checking his phone. The dishes were served swiftly—six dishes and one soup arrived in less than twenty minutes.

Yike, holding the communal chopsticks, kept serving Antong, just as he used to, with meticulous care. His enthusiasm weighed on Antong; aside from thanking him, she found it hard to reciprocate.

Fortunately, Yike did not probe into her family affairs, spending most of the meal recalling past stories.

Time slipped by in this peculiar harmony.

Midway through the meal, Wenwan leaned toward Cheng Feng and quietly asked, “Why didn’t Ninth Brother come today?”

“Ninth Master…” Cheng Feng explained vaguely, “Too many matters, he couldn’t get away.”

Seeing his evasiveness, Wenwan wisely did not press further. In truth, Cheng Feng only appeared careless; he was shrewd and perceptive. Since he didn’t wish to elaborate, Wenwan did not insist or risk losing face.

…

After the meal, Yike and Antong exchanged phone numbers and added each other on WeChat. Before leaving, Yike solemnly reminded her, “If you change your number again, let me know, so I won’t lose touch for years.”

“Miss An, may I add you on WeChat?” Wenwan asked as well, surprising Antong a little; she had not expected the most renowned socialite in Hong Kong to request her contact.

When Antong hesitated, Wenwan smiled gently. “I mean no offense. If it’s inconvenient, we can wait for another opportunity.”

Such a refined and considerate approach left Antong unable to refuse. She privately admired the socialite’s poise.

Thus, the two naturally became WeChat friends.

At that moment, Cheng Feng felt like dying. He knew well how much importance Ninth Master placed on Miss An. Now, having inadvertently exposed her, Cheng Feng had the uneasy sense that today’s meal might be his farewell feast.

At one o’clock, the four said their goodbyes outside the restaurant. Cheng Feng hurriedly invited Antong into the car and soon sped away.

On the roadside, Yike, one hand in his pocket, smiled with a curious expression. “Want to keep strolling nearby, or head to another piano shop?”

“No more strolling,” Wenwan replied, laughing wistfully. “I never excelled at piano. The issue was never the instrument, but my lack of skill. Buying a better piano won’t help.”

Yike, unwilling to dampen her spirits—even if it was the truth—said, “You’re not aiming for fame in the arts. As long as you can play, it doesn’t matter whether you pass exams. It won’t disgrace your status.”

Wenwan shrugged with candor. “You have to admit when you’re outmatched. I’ll head off now; Yang Sui is waiting at the parking lot.”

“Alright, see you.”

Yike watched Wenwan walk toward the opposite mall, only pulling out his phone to search a group chat record once she was out of sight. If he hadn’t met Antong today and observed her closely, he wouldn’t have recalled the photo Su Yiting posted in the group chat over a month ago.

—A bet: The old monk is about to break his vows.

That was Su Yiting’s message back then, prompting much teasing from the group.

Yike found the chat record and opened the side-profile photo. As expected, the girl sitting beside Ninth Brother was Antong; her features matched perfectly.

So she was the one who broke Rong Jiu’s rules.

…

Meanwhile, driving, Cheng Feng received a call from Rong Shen. Seeing the caller ID, his hand trembled, nearly losing grip of the wheel. This was not just Ninth Master’s call—it felt like a summons from the underworld.

Cheng Feng was filled with dread and veered onto a side road, turning to Antong with a strained smile. “Miss An, please wait a moment, I’m going to buy a pack of cigarettes.”

Without waiting for her reply, he jumped out and ran.

Standing under a tree, bracing against the cold wind, Cheng Feng nervously raised his phone to his ear. “Ninth Master.”

“Have you finished the transfer procedures?”

Cheng Feng nodded frantically. “All done, very smoothly. Director Huang asked me to convey his gratitude and admiration to you. He—”

Before he finished, the man’s deep, measured voice sounded again. “Where did you run into Yike?”

“Uh…” Cheng Feng stammered, searching for an answer. “At a restaurant in the CBD. Miss An was hungry, so we picked a spot at random, and by sheer bad luck, bumped into Miss Wen and the others…”

The man was silent, the quiet in the receiver unnerving.

Knowing he couldn’t hide, Cheng Feng confessed, “Miss An invited me to dinner… Ninth Master, I didn’t think this through, but I truly didn’t expect to run into Miss Wen…”

The man said in a low voice, “That’s enough for now,” and hung up.

Enough for now—what did that even mean?

Standing in the cold wind, Cheng Feng wondered if he should resign or beg for forgiveness.

In fact, Rong Shen was not angry; he hung up only because Antong’s call was coming through.

As soon as he answered, he heard the girl’s gentle voice: “Dr. Rong, I forgot to call you back. The transfer procedures are finished, and Cheng Feng has all the documents.”

His tone was calm and steady, “Have you had lunch?”

Antong replied she had, and was preparing to go home.

Rong Shen fell silent for a moment, his magnetic voice betraying nothing unusual. “Don’t make any plans for tomorrow. Wait for me at home.”

“You’re coming back tomorrow?”

Hadn’t he said he’d return Thursday?

He answered quietly, “Yes, I’ll arrive in Hong Kong at three in the afternoon.”