Chapter 69: 067 Not Qualified to Play "Sun and Moon" [2 updates]

This is one of Vera Hall’s three piano pieces, “Sun and Moon”.

Composed in 1756, it is a piano sonata.

A sonata is a multi-movement musical genre, with a single sonata generally taking about 15-20 minutes to perform.

Unlike other common piano pieces, a sonata is much more complex, requiring the performer to possess exceptionally high piano skills, as well as strong expressiveness and tension, making it an important tool for evaluating a performer’s level.

Even the slightest weakness or lagging stamina would prevent one from playing it smoothly.

In the world piano difficulty rankings, “Sun and Moon” is placed ninth.

Ying Zijin rested her chin on her hand, having looked over the music sheet presented by Ying Luwei. After pondering for a moment, she understood.

Though mostly the same, this was not the music sheet she had written.

The last time, she left Earth in 1782.

Before her departure, she had not made her piano scores public.

It must have been that someone heard her concert, transcribed the score, and then it spread.

But naturally, relying solely on listening, there were numerous errors in the score.

That’s why no one could now play “Sun and Moon” completely, not because it was truly that difficult.

Ying Zijin thought back to why she had learned piano with those top musicians back then—it was because music allowed her to relax and wash away her vanity.

She never expected that after all these years upon returning to Earth, the name Vera Hall she had casually chosen had become a historical figure in the world of music.

And now it had become an object for Ying Luwei to leech off for popularity.

Tsk.

Ying Zijin tapped on the keyboard, her expression lazy.

Too bad, without the real music sheet, Ying Luwei could forget about ever playing “Sun and Moon”.

Indeed, as Ying Luwei’s fabricated image repeatedly collapsed, the mockery ensued when a tweet was posted about it, with netizens soon joining in.

[I can’t take this anymore. Playing “Sun and Moon”? Even some top domestic pianists don’t dare to claim they can play it. What’s a vase-like pianist pretending for?]

[Marketing oneself with a facade of serenity is one thing, but claiming to be the next Vera Hall? Where’s the shame?]

[I simply can’t tolerate the desecration of Goddess Vera. Do you have the talent and diligence? Talking about earnestly making music while prancing around with false loftiness. Learn from Sister Ying what true indifference is.]

This set Ying Luwei’s fans off.

[To those above, we admit Luwei is far too inferior to Vera, as they are not even from the same century. But comparing her to a foster daughter is just unfair. Does Ying Zijin know how to play the piano?]

[That foster daughter must be from the countryside, right? Knows piano? She has no right to compare with Luwei.]

[Brain-dead fans. These days, flaunting piano skills like a wealthy family’s socialite is considered a brag? Hopeless.]

Ying Zijin learned some new slang, then put down her phone and casually knocked on the keyboard, and managed to hack a computer.

She leaned back in her chair and opened a can of cola.

**

Across the ocean, in the same basement filled with instant noodle containers.

“Pfff… Damn it!”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Choking on his instant noodles for the third time at the sight of his dark screen, a certain hacker nearly met his maker.

His eyes brimmed with tears, almost resigned to his fate,

[Sister, what’s with you again, I’m so innocent, wuwuwu.]

Wasn’t it just because of his curiosity that he hacked into her computer once?

What bad karma had he brought upon himself?

Then, he received a message consisting of three letters.

[NOK]

Seeing these three letters, the hacker’s expression shifted.

Why did she start asking about this?

How was he supposed to answer?

He carefully typed his response.

[Sister, how do you know about NOK?]

This time, Ying Zijin replied with two characters.

[Quickly.]

“…”

Looking at those two characters, after a few seconds, the hacker slapped himself.

Great, his sister wasn’t asking him; she was forcing a confession.

He figured if he didn’t spill what NOK was today, all his dozen computers would crash.

And then, his task would be ruined.

[Fine, sister, I’ll send the website to your computer, you can go and see for yourself.]

After this message was sent, his computer returned to normal.

The hacker sighed deeply, wondering if he should file a little report.

Thinking it over, he decided not to.

After all, it wasn’t his kid causing trouble. Let that guy worry about it.

He’s pleased!

The hacker picked up his instant noodles and continued eating.

**

First Hospital.

Zhong Manhua hurried over and asked, “How is Old Madam Ying doing?”

The butler waiting outside the ICU wiped his sweat and replied anxiously, “Madam, Old Madam Ying has not woken up yet; the doctors are still resuscitating her.”

This time, Old Madam Ying had fainted partly from anger and partly from fright caused by Elder Zhong.

Zhong Manhua was also quite irritable, “Have you contacted Imperial Capital Hospital?”

“Miss Luwei just made the call,” the butler said. “Lu Zhi’s mentor will personally come over.”

“That’s good.” Zhong Manhua slightly relaxed, “Let First Hospital stabilize Old Madam Ying’s condition first.”

Although Lu Zhi’s mentor specialized in traditional medicine, because of a slight connection with the Meng Family, his medical expertise was far above that of an ordinary traditional doctor.

After another hour of waiting, the ICU doors finally opened.

Seeing the main doctor come out, Ying Luwei hurried forward: “Doctor, how is my mother doing?”

“Old Madam Ying’s health is indeed declining,” the main doctor shook his head, “The situation is very grim, I suggest you prepare yourselves.”

Upon hearing this, the three of them were taken aback.

Was it really that serious?

“However, there’s still a chance,” the main doctor hesitated, “Have you heard of Shao Ren Hospital?”

Zhong Manhua frowned slightly, “That Chinese medicine hospital?”

Naturally, she had heard of Shao Ren Hospital, which used to be very famous.

But with the rise of Western medicine and the gradual decline of traditional Chinese medicine, Shao Ren Hospital was no longer what it used to be.

“That’s right,” the main doctor nodded, “They have a new doctor there, an extremely skilled physician. You might want to give it a try.”

Zhong Manhua’s expression faded, and she politely declined, “There’s no need.”

If Lu Zhi’s mentor was coming personally, what Chinese doctor in Shanghai City could surpass his expertise?