Chapter 90: Women Exist to Bear Children

Taking a deep breath, Song Yan’s long fingers swept swiftly across the white jade keys, and at once a string of beautiful glissandos flowed out.

Then all ten of his fingers began to dance gracefully over the keyboard.

A bright, lilting melody tinged with the faintest trace of melancholy drifted from beneath Song Yan’s hands, and in an instant Chunhe and Qiuxiang were drawn into a scene of misty drizzle...

What Song Yan had originally obtained was the skill of Piano Master. Later, he had used fame points to elevate it to the realm of Piano God, and it came with an innate power of emotional resonance: anyone who heard his music would be pulled into the world his performance created.

The brief piece Song Yan was playing, less than two minutes long, was called Strolling in the Rain. Light and lively, yet carrying a thread of wistfulness, it was like a young girl wandering through the rain, confiding her heart to the falling drops.

When the piece ended, Chunhe and Qiuxiang still remained immersed in the melody, feeling only that the scene it had conjured was unbearably beautiful.

Song Yan paid them no mind and continued into the next piece.

Its title was Blue and White Porcelain, a composition steeped in antique elegance, and among the ten pieces gifted by the system, it was Song Yan’s favorite.

The opening notes rang out like a flowing spring, limpid and clear.

At the first strain, Chunhe and Qiuxiang started awake, only to be drawn at once into the mood of Blue and White Porcelain.

After that brief crystalline beginning, the music deepened into something rich and lingering, and the two girls seemed to cross time and space into a sorrowful water town veiled in smoky rain, where little bridges arched over running streams.

Then the melody shifted again, and the anguished feeling of longing for love yet being unable to attain it made both girls weep silently.

Just as they were wholly lost in the world of Blue and White Porcelain, Qin Nongyu arrived hand in hand with Qinxin. But the moment they heard that tender, lingering music steeped in unattainable love, both women stopped where they stood.

At some unknown moment, they too became completely absorbed in the mood of the melody, and at some unknown moment, tears began to glimmer in their eyes.

At last, the piece came to an end.

Qinxin and Qin Nongyu emerged from the spell almost at the same time, while the less worldly Chunhe and Qiuxiang were already crying openly.

Song Yan ignored the two maids and let them weep as they pleased. Rising, he turned to Qin Nongyu and Qinxin. “What brings you here?”

“We were drawn by the sound of your playing,” Qin Nongyu said, gently wiping the corner of her eye.

Qinxin nodded. “Yes, brother-in-law. This should be a qin, shouldn’t it? What kind of instrument is it?”

“I call it a piano,” Song Yan said with a smile.

Qinxin pondered this. “There seems to be no such instrument as a piano anywhere in the world. Could it be that you invented this as well, brother-in-law?”

By now, Song Yan’s identity as a great inventor was known far and wide. The paper and movable-type printing he had created were a blessing to scholars everywhere.

The perfume he invented was coveted by countless women, and the glass mirror he created was something every woman longed to own.

The strong liquor he devised was irresistible to true men.

And then there was the gunpowder he had invented, which had become an all-powerful divine weapon of war in battle after battle.

So the fact that Song Yan might invent a musical instrument did not surprise Qinxin in the least.

“This is the first piano in this world,” Song Yan said with a smile and a nod.

“Then could you play another piece for us?” Qinxin asked, her eyes bright with anticipation. She was profoundly skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and the piece Song Yan had just played had struck her as utterly strange, for it contradicted every musical theory she knew.

“Of course.”

Song Yan sat down again, and as his fingers moved, a piece titled Refra slowly poured from beneath his hands.

As he played it, scenes from the days when he had first entered the café to work and earn money surfaced in his mind one after another. Along with them came the image of Su Meier.

Ever since that accidental night when the two of them had crossed that final line, they had never met again.

He had sensed that Su Meier still harbored a measure of resistance toward him, as well as concern for the gaze of the world, for she was several years older than he was.

So although he had gone to Flame Capital many times, even studying there, Song Yan had never taken the initiative to seek her out.

But now, while playing Refra, he missed Su Meier with unusual intensity. Perhaps, when I return to the real world this time, I should go and see her.

When the melody first began, Qinxin had intended to observe Song Yan’s playing technique carefully. Yet after only a few notes, she was once again dragged helplessly into the mood of the piece, as if the music he played possessed some strange and irresistible magic.

As a result, she simply could not spare the attention to study his technique at all.

At last, Refra came to an end. Qinxin quietly let out a breath. During the performance, she had tried to pull herself free from that immersive realm, but discovered that no matter what she did, she could not escape it. That made her think of a chilling possibility.

If, in the middle of battle, Song Yan suddenly began to play and drew everyone into the world of his music, then would they not all be left entirely at his mercy?

At that thought, cold sweat dampened the clothes on her back.

Of course, she also saw another truth: Song Yan’s attainment at the piano had already reached a realm bordering on the Dao itself.

She was proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, but only proficient. She was still far from the realm of the Dao. In the past, she had always believed that in this world no one could surpass her in those arts. But now there was someone who had cast her far behind.

For a moment, her emotions were extraordinarily complicated.

“Brother-in-law, can you teach me to play the piano?” Qinxin suddenly asked.

“Of course.” Song Yan smiled and nodded.

“General, Sister Qiuxiang and I want to learn too,” Chunhe hurriedly added.

“Very well, then I’ll teach you all together.” Song Yan nodded, then turned to Qin Nongyu. “Yu’er, are you interested in learning as well?”

“If my husband is willing to teach me, then Yu’er is willing to learn,” Qin Nongyu replied sweetly.

“In that case, I’ll start by teaching you the most basic musical knowledge.”

As he spoke, Song Yan produced a ballpoint pen and a sheet of white paper from nowhere and swiftly wrote down the seven numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

Then he held the paper up toward the four women and said, “These are numbered musical notes, also called the basic notes. Each note has a corresponding scale degree, pronounced do, re...”

As he recited the seven numbered notes, his fingers pressed the corresponding keys on the piano.

All four women were cultivators, and all had reached the Innate Realm. Their minds were far more developed than those of ordinary people, so each of them was almost capable of perfect recall.

Added to that, Song Yan’s explanation was extraordinarily detailed, and before long the four women had grasped the basics of numbered notation.

Yet their reactions were very different.

Chunhe and Qiuxiang knew nothing of music theory, so they did not truly realize how remarkable Song Yan’s teaching was.

Qin Nongyu’s whole heart was tied to Song Yan, so the more capable he was, the happier she became.

Only Qinxin, who was deeply versed in music theory, truly understood how difficult it was to create an entirely new system of musical knowledge. Those seven basic notes were simple and easy to understand, and compared with the theory she had mastered, they were even more worthy of being spread far and wide.

For a moment, the way she looked at Song Yan changed without her noticing. There was now a trace more admiration in her gaze, along with a touch of regret.