11:40 PM.

Old Zhao had been gone for nearly two hours.

Lu Zhixian sat cross-legged in the middle of the sofa, the invitation lying on the coffee table.

He wasn't looking at the invitation.

He was looking at something only he could see.

The system panel floated right in front of him.

[Specific Category Track Exchange]

He tapped it with his finger.

The panel expanded into a new interface. The rules popped up; there weren't many words, but every line was painful to read.

Specific category draw, consumes 8 million popularity points per attempt.

Category locked: Piano Solo.

The prize pool includes B-rank, A-rank, and S-rank tracks, with random probabilities.

No duplicates for tracks already owned.

Lu Zhixian looked at the "8 million" figure and raised a hand to rub his brow.

Lu Zhixian stared at the panel for a few seconds.

Last time he drew "La Campanella," he got an S-rank in one go.

He rubbed his chin and muttered to himself, "Last time I drew 'La Campanella,' it came out in a few tries... I hope my luck is still good."

Having said that, he pressed for the first draw.

Eight million popularity points vanished instantly.

The wheel on the panel began to spin.

The pointer swept across the slots—gray, blue, purple, with an occasional flash of gold.

The rotation slowed down.

The pointer twitched twice and stopped.

A blue slot.

[B-rank track. Type: Romantic Etude]

The system automatically displayed the track's full information. Lu Zhixian scanned it.

It was usable.

The melody was decent, and there were some technical flourishes; it would be considered a presentable piece in an ordinary competition.

But this was the Xiao Hua Competition.

The world's top pianists would be sitting in the audience as judges.

If you brought an etude up there, they wouldn't kick you off, but they wouldn't give you a second look either.

Without hesitation, he pressed for the second draw.

The wheel spun again.

This time, the pointer moved slower than the first. The slots skipped by one by one.

Lu Zhixian noticed that the proportion of gold slots on the wheel was much higher than the blue ones, but there were only two dark gold ones on the entire wheel.

The pointer decelerated.

Skips a blue.

Skips a purple.

Stops on a gold slot.

[A-rank track. Type: Classical Sonata]

Lu Zhixian's eyebrow twitched.

A-rank.

The quality of this piece was more than a level higher than the first.

It had a complete structure, tricky technical requirements, and sufficiently rich emotional layers.

But it was far from enough.

He needed something that could make those who had sat in the judges' seats for half their lives forget to give a score.

Lu Zhixian withdrew his gaze from the panel and looked down at the invitation on the coffee table.

The gold-stamped competition logo shimmered under the light.

He remembered what he wrote when he posted that social media update: "Going to have some fun."

Having fun can be very casual.

But since he was at the table, he had to draw the best cards.

Lu Zhixian tapped his fingers twice on his knees.

The rhythm was not fast, as if he were setting a beat for himself.

After tapping, he took a deep breath.

Third time.

Press.

The wheel spun for the third time.

This time, the pointer's speed was slower than the previous two from the start.

Lu Zhixian's eyes narrowed slightly.

Another gold slot. A-rank. The pointer grazed the edge.

Lu Zhixian's breath hitched for a beat.

The pointer trembled, as if hesitating.

Then it slid off that gold slot.

It came to a steady stop on a dark gold slot.

The system notification rang out in his mind.

"Ding—Congratulations to the host for obtaining an S-rank reward!"

"Earth's legendary piano piece, 'Ballade No. 1 in G Minor'."

"Bonus: Perfect Performance Memory + Complete Sheet Music."

"Merging..."

Lu Zhixian's movements froze.

His fingers stopped on his knees, maintaining the tapping posture from before, without pulling back.

His whole body stiffened on the sofa.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Then he slowly leaned back, the back of his head resting against the sofa's backrest, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

It wasn't a smile.

"Third try."

His voice wasn't loud, sounding a bit ethereal in the empty living room.

Before he could finish, the fusion began.

All of it was now being poured into Lu Zhixian's mind.

Lu Zhixian's ten fingers moved uncontrollably on his knees.

He looked down at his hands.

His fingers were still moving, as if they had a consciousness of their own.

His right hand played a melodic line on the other side of his knee.

The fusion lasted for about two minutes.

Once the information stream was fully digested, Lu Zhixian sat in place without moving.

He didn't immediately go to find a piano to test it out like he did when he got "La Campanella."

This piece was different from "La Campanella."

"La Campanella" was about showing off technique. It was the ceiling for hand speed and precision. The moment it was played, the audience's reaction would be "How is it possible for someone to play so fast?"

But "Ballade No. 1 in G Minor" wasn't that kind of thing.

Its technical difficulty was certainly high, but its truly terrifying aspect wasn't in the hands, but in the heart.

It wasn't meant to "stun" the judges.

It was meant to make the judges forget they were judges.

Back on Earth, this piece was revered by countless pianists as "one of the greatest piano solo works." Not because it was hard to play, but because it pushed what a piano could express to a limit that no one ever reached again.

And this world had no Chopin.

Lu Zhixian stood up from the sofa.

His legs were a bit numb from sitting cross-legged for too long.

He flexed his ankles and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

Lukewarm water. He took a sip, carried the glass to the window, and stood there for a while.

His phone vibrated on the sofa.

He walked over and picked it up. A message from Old Zhao.

"The competition organizing committee has sent a confirmation letter; your spot is locked. The contestant list will be announced the day after tomorrow. Self-selected pieces must be submitted for registration one week before the competition. Have you decided what piece to choose???"

Three question marks. Very Old Zhao.

Lu Zhixian typed with one hand.

"I've decided."

Old Zhao replied instantly.

"What piece??? What's it called??? I need to communicate with the organizing committee in advance!!"

Five question marks and two exclamation points. Even more Old Zhao than before.

Lu Zhixian looked at the screen and thought for a moment.

"A Ballade," he typed.

Paused for two seconds, then added another sentence.

"I haven't thought of a name yet; you'll know when the time comes."

Send.

Then he flipped the phone over and placed it face down on the coffee table, picked up the glass of water he hadn't finished, and walked back to the window.

The phone vibrated seven or eight times in a row on the coffee table.

Without looking, he knew Old Zhao was launching a voice message bombardment on the other end.

Lu Zhixian ignored it.

He finished the last sip of water and placed the empty glass on the windowsill.

Two fingers unconsciously tapped a few times on the edge of the windowsill.

The rhythm was very slow, the outline of the opening theme of that Ballade.

Once in Vienna, he would just let them come out on their own.

Lu Zhixian drew the curtains, turned off the floor lamp, and went into the bedroom.

The phone was still vibrating on the coffee table in the living room.

Old Zhao's last message stayed on the screen, unopened.

"Don't go to sleep!!! Whose Ballade is it?? Which key is it in??? Lu Zhixian, come back here!!!!"

Eight exclamation points.

No answer.