A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

At 10 a.m. the following morning, sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and a 100th anniversary edition Steinway grand piano stood quietly in the center of the lobby, its black body gleaming with the rich patina of time.

The rest area was packed, yet the atmosphere was unusually quiet.

Anyone sitting here could easily attract a barrage of media attention if taken out of the city.

Senior members of the French Academy of Fine Arts, guest conductors of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, several top pianists whose tour tickets are hard to come by, and even art patrons from top European families.

These titans, whom we usually only see in national-level concert halls, were all dressed in impeccable formal attire, sitting upright on the sofa, their eyes occasionally glancing at the VIP elevator.

"bite."

With a soft click, the elevator doors slid open slowly.

Lin Yan, wearing a loose gray and white sweater and casual pants, walked out holding Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Shen Qingqiu wore a beige trench coat, without any makeup, and her long hair was casually tied back with a wooden hairpin.

The two were clearly dressed as if they were going for a stroll on the Champs-Élysées.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, the hushed conversations in the lobby lounge abruptly ceased.

Those music industry giants stood up in unison, dozens of eyes focusing on Lin Yan with undisguised awe and fervor.

Lin Yan paused slightly, his brows furrowing gently.

He saw Pierre, the white-bearded old man from last night, at the very front of the crowd.

This living fossil of classical music is now nervously rubbing his hands together, like a primary school student waiting for his teacher's inspection.

Upon seeing this, the hotel's French general manager immediately strode forward and bowed deeply in greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Lin. Mr. Pierre and his friends came especially to see you, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. This piano is also an honor for our hotel; please feel free to use it."

Lin Yan looked at this group of big shots with their exaggerated presence.

"I should have said yesterday that I'm on my honeymoon and not open for business."

Lin Yan held Shen Qingqiu's hand tightly, preparing to walk around the crowd towards the gate.

Shen Qingqiu involuntarily stopped in his tracks.

Her gaze fell on the Steinway in the center of the lobby.

A top-quality piano has a fatal attraction for any musician. Although she specializes in vocal music, she has been practicing piano since childhood, so she naturally recognized the value of this centennial edition at a glance.

Lin Yan felt resistance at his fingertips. He followed his wife's gaze to the piano and caught a glimpse of pure appreciation in her eyes.

Lin Yan sighed and stopped walking.

"What, you want to hear it?" He turned his head and looked at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu snapped out of her reverie, nodded gently, and a faint yet captivating smile appeared on her lips: "The tone of this piano must be absolutely exquisite."

Lin Yan smiled and ruffled her hair before turning and walking straight toward the Steinway.

Upon seeing his actions, the music industry heavyweights in the lobby, who had been filled with regret at being rejected, instantly held their breath.

No one dared to make the slightest noise; Pierre even trembled as he pulled a professional recording pen from his inner pocket.

Lin Yan walked to the zither, pulled out the stool and sat down, then casually lifted the lid.

His slender fingers casually pressed two test chords on the black and white piano keys.

The tone is full and crisp, with extremely long overtones produced by the wood resonance.

Lin Yan turned to the side, his gaze passing over the zither to look at Shen Qingqiu, who stood a few steps away. His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent hall:

"This trip was too rushed, I haven't had time to prepare a wedding gift for you yet."

Lin Yan gazed into his wife's eyes, his expression gentle: "I happen to have a fine piano. This piece is for my wife."

Shen Qingqiu's heart skipped a beat. She stood quietly three meters away from the piano, her gaze fixed on Lin Yan.

The European celebrities around them exchanged shocked glances.

This god-like composer, who can easily complete the incomplete pieces of a grand symphony, actually had to improvise a piece for his wife on this occasion?

What a magnificent arrangement it must be! And what a complex two-part counterpoint!

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Lin Yan turned around and placed his hands lightly above the piano keys.

There were no overwhelming chordal strikes, no dazzling virtuoso intros.

Lin Yan's right index finger fell lightly down.

"Ding ding ding... ding ding ding..."

The extremely simple, pure melody, composed of single notes, flows gently from this century-old Steinway, like the first breeze blowing across the Seine in the morning.

This famous piano piece comes from a previous life on Earth: Beethoven's "Für Elise".

The melody is light and gentle, pouring out sweet love and the purest longing for ordinary life without any defense.

The minimalist arpeggios in the left hand are like a pair of steady hands, firmly supporting the melody line in the right hand.

All the classical music masters present were frozen in place.

The grand narrative they envisioned did not materialize, and the spectacular technical displays they anticipated were nowhere to be seen.

The only thing echoing in the lobby was this simple yet captivatingly romantic melody that gave you goosebumps.

Just ten seconds later, Pierre slowly closed his eyes, and a single, cloudy tear uncontrollably spilled from the corner of his eye.

The greatest truths are the simplest!

To be able to write such a soul-stirring love from the most basic single-note melody, what kind of clear and pure state of mind, and what kind of terrifying melodic construction foundation is required?

Lin Yan's body swayed slightly with the rhythm, her fingertips moving smoothly across the piano keys.

His gaze never once fell on the piano keys, but remained fixed on Shen Qingqiu the entire time.

This piece doesn't contain any lofty techniques, only the undying peace in his heart when he looks at her.

Shen Qingqiu stood there, his vision blurred by the mist.

She understood this melody better than anyone else; it was the love of a man who had put aside his extraordinary talent and brilliance, which could have shocked the world, and only wanted to stay by her side and cook for her.

Three minutes later.

As the last, extremely soft chord fell, its lingering sound echoed through the lobby, reverberating along the dome.

Dead silence.

Absolute silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

No one dared to clap; everyone feared that applause would shatter this otherworldly, exquisite romance.

Lin Yan closed the piano lid and stood up.

He walked straight up to Shen Qingqiu, reached out and naturally wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, and lowered his head to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"This piece of music..." Lin Yan murmured softly, "You can also call it 'To Qingqiu'."

Shen Qingqiu could no longer suppress her emotions and took the initiative to reach out and hug Lin Yan's waist, burying her face deeply in his chest.

Only at this moment did applause finally erupt in the hall, as if waking from a dream.

It wasn't polite flattery, but applause filled with fervor and pilgrimage. Those usually aloof masters didn't even realize their hands were turning red from clapping.

The next morning, all the major European newspapers carried the same news story on their front pages with remarkable unspoken agreement:

"The god of classical music from the East has descended upon Paris! A single-note masterpiece, 'To Qingqiu,' redefines the ultimate in romance!"

Meanwhile, Lin Yan, who had ignited the entire Western classical music scene, had already boarded the high-speed train to Switzerland with Shen Qingqiu.

While the outside world was in an uproar because of him, he was leaning back in his chair, seriously discussing with Shen Qingqiu whether they could catch a plump salmon tonight by fishing at the foot of the snow-capped mountain.