The Kalana Zither

At the end of the corridor stood a door, and beyond it lay a vast exhibition hall. The hall was not crowded; people gathered in small groups, conversing quietly among themselves.

As they entered, some guests responded with a polite nod and a raised glass, others cast an indifferent glance their way, while a few regarded them with curiosity, whispering to companions to inquire about their identities. Upon learning they were from the Chen family, the reactions shifted accordingly.

From these subtle gestures, one could immediately discern the Chen family's extraordinary status.

"So, who commands such a grand entrance? As it turns out, it's the Fourth Young Master of the Chen family." A mocking voice sounded nearby.

Hearing this, Ou Feng cursed inwardly and shot a glare at the attendant standing beside the speaker, blaming him for failing to intercept this troublesome guest.

The attendant looked distinctly aggrieved, silently protesting that he could hardly have prevented the man from approaching.

"Fei Yingming?" Chen Wen's face darkened as he turned, eyes fixed on the detestable face before him. He sneered, "Why are you not currying favor at the Yang family today? What brings you here instead?"

So it was Fei Yingming, the young master of the Fei family. Zhong Yun harbored no fondness for him either, recalling with irritation the humiliation he suffered at the Fei family’s garden party.

Chen Wen and Fei Yingming seemed to be natural-born adversaries, exchanging barbs the moment they crossed paths.

Fei Yingming’s gaze swept over Zhong Yun and his companions, and he retorted, "I never imagined you’d stoop to attending a commoners’ school, let alone mingling daily with these... civilians. For the Chen family to produce a son like you—what misfortune."

Though the setting was public, and he prided himself on his status, Fei Yingming restrained himself from uttering the truly insulting word.

Chen Wen snorted, his eyes brimming with disdain. "You are in no position to lecture anyone from the Chen family."

"I'm only concerned that your family might shame the entire aristocracy," Fei Yingming shot back, unwilling to yield.

Sensing the confrontation was about to descend into personal attacks, Ou Feng grew anxious and hurried to interpose himself between the two rivals. "Gentlemen, for my sake, please—have mercy. Don’t make a scene, not here, with so many eyes watching."

Both Chen Wen and Fei Yingming realized the impropriety of their behavior. Despite the open hostility between their families and their bitter rivalry in private, in public, appearances had to be maintained; they could not afford to become a laughingstock.

With a mutual huff, they fell silent. Fei Yingming led his companion away.

Yet Zhong Yun sensed, perhaps only by intuition, a hint of murderous intent in the glance Fei Yingming cast his way.

As Fei Yingming departed, Ou Feng finally exhaled in relief. Had a fight truly broken out, the spectacle would have been most regrettable.

He then took the role of guide, introducing them to the treasures on display. The items exhibited were all rare and precious; though Ou Feng did not mention their prices, it was clear that each was worth a fortune.

As an A-class appraiser, Ou Feng’s expertise was evident. Whenever Zhong Yun showed interest in a piece, he would step forward and offer a concise yet vivid explanation, detailing its origin, features, and value—capturing his audience’s attention in just a few words.

After viewing more than a dozen items, Zhong Yun finally came to a halt.

Ou Feng immediately noticed his keen interest. "This is an exceedingly rare, authentic Jialan Piano. The craftsmanship involved in its creation has long since been lost..."

"May I touch it?" Zhong Yun interrupted, his gaze fixed on the instrument, so reminiscent of a terrestrial piano, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Ou Feng hesitated, instinctively glancing at Chen Wen, who gave a slight nod. "Of course," he replied.

Zhong Yun circled the Jialan Piano, his eyes full of admiration and nostalgia. Then he seated himself on the low bench before it, caressing the cover as if it were a beloved companion.

His concentration was so intense that those nearby dared not disturb him.

He lifted the lid and, closing his eyes, placed his fingers on the keys.

No sound emerged.

Zhong Yun frowned, murmuring to himself, "It's broken." He rose, walked to the back of the piano, and lifted the rear panel.

"Wait—" Ou Feng tried to interject, but it was too late. He inwardly lamented; this piano had cost a fortune and was one of the young lady’s most prized possessions. If it hadn’t been broken, it would never have been put on display. He blamed Zhong Yun for his recklessness—if the piano suffered further damage, how could he explain it?

He stepped forward, intending to stop him. "Mr. Zhong, you—"

Before he could finish, Zhong Yun had already replaced the panel and returned to his seat, ignoring Ou Feng. He took a deep breath and laid his fingers on the keys once more.

A clear note resounded, drifting through the hall and reaching every corner. Though not loud, it seemed to carry, so that all present could hear.

The sound was captivating; everyone unconsciously turned toward its source.

Ou Feng was stunned on the spot.

It worked—the piano was playing. The realization struck him like a tidal wave. He could scarcely believe his ears.

When the young lady acquired this damaged Jialan Piano, she had devoted tremendous effort, inviting countless experts, musicians, and even repair specialists from the Ge'an Empire, all of whom declared it irreparable.

Ultimately, in disappointment, the piano had been consigned to this exhibition, for a flawless, original Jialan Piano was so rare that even the Anger Empire’s national museum lacked one—how could they possibly leave it here otherwise?

Yet now, the instrument had been restored, and by a man so young it bordered on the absurd. How could Ou Feng not be utterly astonished, struck speechless?

Zhong Yun frowned, apparently dissatisfied with the tone, and adjusted the instrument again.

Ou Feng stood dumbfounded, unable to process what had just occurred.

Again, a note sounded—gentle as a breeze across the heart, stirring the souls of all who heard it. A single, simple note was enough to capture their hearts.

Zhong Yun’s frown relaxed. His fingers danced across the keys, and a cascade of notes tumbled forth like a mountain stream, clear and serene.

It was a lively tune full of exotic flavor, fresh and exhilarating.

When the melody ended, Zhong Yun sighed in contentment, closed the lid, and rose. "This is a fine instrument," he said, casting a lingering, yearning glance at the piano.

He did not ask to purchase it. He could not afford it, nor could he bring himself to buy it, no matter how much he longed to. From the moment he first saw the piano, something deep within him had been stirred, an irrepressible force compelling him to touch it.

He felt an unbreakable bond with the instrument. We will meet again, he silently vowed as he turned away.

When he turned, he found Chen Wen watching him with a peculiar expression. Zhong Yun smiled faintly, offering no explanation.

"Just how many more surprises do you have in store for us?" murmured Chen Wen as Zhong Yun passed, his words so soft that few could have heard.