Chapter 163 At This Point, Might as Well Play the Game First

In the VIP box.

Xu Nuo sat quietly beside Xu Yunzhou.

She watched the woman on the stage below—a woman offering up every ounce of her courage and her future like a sacrifice—watched the ring glittering beneath the lights, watched the infinitely tender light in Song Jiaru's eyes.

Then she began to clap softly, joining the tens of thousands of spectators below who were waiting for an answer.

She turned her head toward the dazed Xu Yunzhou beside her, her gaze calm:

"Teacher. Don't keep her waiting too long."

Then she let out a nearly inaudible sigh. Her tone remained calm, but the next words carried the aura of the Incense Gang's Lantern Bearer:

"If you don't go down..."

"I won't mind personally carrying you down myself."

As she spoke, her fingertips unconsciously traced the dark brown prayer beads around her wrist. One bead. Then another.

"..."

Xu Yunzhou's gaze was locked on the radiant figure at the center of the stage.

Song Jiaru was still waiting.

Her expression held longing, nervousness, the desperate resolve of someone staking everything on a single throw, and beneath it all, a fragile fear of rejection buried deep in her eyes.

Xu Yunzhou remembered countless scenes.

He remembered that scorching summer when she was fourteen—the "big sister" who crouched down and carefully wiped the scrapes on his knee with a wet tissue. She was the white moonlight of his entire youth, the secret he'd held close, the source that jolted him awake on countless nights.

He remembered that late night after busking in Kuanzhai Alley, when she'd come back with reddened eyes, biting her lip and stubbornly insisting, "I'll become your most perfect work."

He remembered the West Lake, where she'd thrown herself into his arms, crying like a child who'd wandered lost for years and finally found her way home, choking out: "Big Brother, I waited ten years for you."

And at this moment.

She was standing in the brightest spotlight in the world, wearing the most beautiful wedding gown, holding up the ring that symbolized a promise, declaring her heart to the entire universe—and asking him for an answer.

Thirty thousand people held their breath.

Countless screens across the globe broadcast the scene live.

On social media, the hashtag #SongJiaruConcertProposal# had already exploded to historic heights.

This was a grand confession bought with her career, her reputation, everything she had.

What reason did he have to hesitate?

Xu Yunzhou took a deep breath and smoothed down his clothes.

Then, beneath Xu Nuo's calm gaze and Song Jinxuan's excited stare, he turned and gripped the door handle of the VIP box.

No mask.

Why would he need a mask?

That would be the act of a coward—a shameful insult to her ten years of courage.

"Click."

The door opened.

He stepped out, his shoes sinking into the soft, thick carpet of the corridor.

His footsteps were steady, neither fast nor slow.

Step by step.

He walked toward...

At the end of the corridor, toward the sign bearing the little figure in a suit—the restroom.

Song Jinxuan, watching his retreating back, finally lost her grip on the teapot. "Clatter!" It crashed onto the tea tray, splashing warm tea across her hand.

Too agitated to even mind the scalding liquid, she burst into a frenzied rant:

"Wait... no, Big Brother, what kind of god-tier plot twist is this? You have to use the bathroom at the crucial moment? Did your bladder cut a deal with your brain, choosing exactly this epic scene to go rogue?"

"Song Jiaru is up there waiting for you so long she's about to turn into a Wife-Waiting Stone! Thirty thousand people and netizens all over the world are dying to see how this ends! And you're off to release some pressure?"

(TL: A reference to the legend of Wangfushi, a devoted wife who stood on a hill watching for her husband's return until she turned to stone.)

She whipped her head toward Xu Nuo, expression twisted:

"Lord Nuo, this... should we stop him? Or should I get two security guards to stand watch outside the bathroom? What if he panics and slips out through the window! Then tomorrow's headline will be #SongJiaruGetsStoodUpAtHerProposal#!"

Xu Nuo said nothing. She simply narrowed her eyes slightly.

Her fingertips unconsciously passed over the prayer beads at her wrist.

The temperature in the box seemed to drop two degrees.

Her killing intent hadn't been released. But a little had leaked out through the cracks.

---

...Of course, Xu Yunzhou wasn't the type to get so nervous before going onstage that he needed to answer nature's call.

He walked into the empty restroom and locked the door behind him.

It sealed out the muffled, thunderous waves of sound—the roaring anticipation from outside.

He needed one minute.

Before going onstage, he still had one final thing to do. One absolutely essential thing.

In his hand was a laptop he'd just borrowed, on the spot, from a staff member in the backstage area.

His original plan had been simple:

Quickly search for the score of a classic piano piece he already knew by heart—one he'd accompanied Song Jiaru through countless days and nights of practice—and double-check a few intricate cadenza passages.

Then he'd walk onstage and play for her before millions of eyes, using the master-level technique honed through all those years as her practice partner. It would prove, at least, that he wasn't all surface, that he was worthy of her regard.

But after he'd pulled out his phone, a bolder idea had struck!

Playing someone else's classic?

Too ordinary!

If he was going to prove himself, if he was going to respond, if he was going to live up to her decade of unwavering devotion and tonight's all-or-nothing grand confession...

If he was about to walk toward her before the entire world, take her hand, and maybe even slip that ring onto her finger...

Why not compose an original piece for her, right now?

A song belonging only to this moment. Only to her. Only to the ten tangled years between them.

That would be far more precious, far more meaningful than any master's masterwork—and it would show her, and everyone, that he, Xu Yunzhou, was worthy.

Worthy of her ten-year wait.

Worthy of her public confession.

Worthy of her putting on a wedding dress and staking everything beneath the gaze of billions.

The only problem? He didn't know how to compose!

But he had a golden finger!

It was just that he hadn't brought his own computer, and it was powered off, so he couldn't connect to it remotely from his phone.

Hence the borrowed laptop. He logged into his personal cloud drive—a programmer's professional habit meant that he'd long ago backed up that vitally important "game."

In an encrypted folder, he found the archive: [Goddess Nurturing Game (Backup).rar].

Size: 520 KB.

A subtle yet romantic number.

(TL: In Chinese internet slang, 520 sounds like 我爱你 (wǒ ài nǐ), "I love you.")

The download progress bar filled in an instant.

Extracted.

Double-clicked the simple golden crown icon.

The screen dimmed for a moment, then the familiar game interface loaded smoothly.

Everything just as usual!

So this unfathomable, inscrutable "game"—its client wasn't bound to any specific hardware. It was more like a permission, or rather, an interface leading to some higher dimension.

As long as he had the correct program files, he could open this door on any terminal.

Without a single instant of hesitation, Xu Yunzhou entered the "Wen Xi" character stage.

He wasn't here to play the game, of course, nor to catch up with Wen Xi.

He was here to take over Wen Xi's body.

And then exchange for that 【Divine-Level Piano Master (5-Minute Experience Card)】.

In the confines of this restroom, borrowing Wen Xi's hands—hands temporarily enhanced by the system's divine power, hands worthy of any legendary pianist—along with the surging musicality and creative inspiration flooding in...

He would compose for Song Jiaru the final movement of tonight. Unique. One of a kind. Destined to stun the world.

"Now this is the ultimate romance."

Xu Yunzhou murmured to the screen, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

"Though the piece might carry a faint hint of restroom disinfectant... but that's life. Nothing can ever be flawless."