The VVIP Green Room at the Moon City Concert Hall was a sanctuary of silence and opulence, insulated from the chaos of the outside world by soundproof walls and heavy velvet drapes. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the Persian rugs and Italian leather sofas.
In the center of this luxury sat **Ren**, looking utterly out of place.
She was slumped on a pristine white sofa, her long legs crossed at the ankles, her scuffed sneakers resting precariously close to a mahogany coffee table. In one hand, she held a half-empty can of cola; in the other, she scrolled through a game on her phone.
Standing in front of her, practically vibrating with excitement, was the legendary **Master Wei**.
The man who could command standing ovations from kings and presidents was currently acting like a nervous child showing off a new toy. He held a violin case in his hands with reverent care.
"Grandma... no, Ancestor," Master Wei pleaded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Just look at it. Please? I flew it in from the vault in Switzerland. It took three armed guards to get it here."
Ren didn't look up from her phone. "I'm busy. Level 49 is hard."
"Ren!" Master Wei whined. "This is the **1714 Stradivarius 'Dolphin'**. It's worth fifty million dollars! It has been sleeping in a museum for fifty years. I bought it just so you could touch it."
Ren sighed, the sound loud in the quiet room. She paused her game and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
"You're noisy, Old Man," she muttered.
She reached out a hand. Her fingers were slender, pale, and, to the horror of any museum curator, slightly sticky from the condensation on her soda can.
Master Wei didn't care. He practically shoved the priceless instrument into her hands.
Ren took the violin. The moment her skin touched the aged wood, her demeanor shifted. The boredom vanished, replaced by a sharp, terrifying focus. She held the instrument not with reverence, but with familiarity—as if it were an extension of her own body.
She didn't lift the bow. Instead, she brought the violin to her ear and plucked the E-string with her thumb.
*Pizzicato.*
The sound was bright, piercing, and incredibly pure.
Ren frowned instantly.
"The E-string is flat by 0.5 cents," Ren said, her voice flat. "And the bridge is tilted two millimeters to the left. Did you drop it, or are your ears finally failing you?"
Master Wei's face lit up with delight. He slapped his thigh. "I knew it! I knew you would hear it! The luthier said it was perfect, but it sounded 'off' to me. Only your absolute pitch can fix it."
"I'm not your technician," Ren grumbled.
Despite her words, her hands moved. She didn't ask for a digital tuner. She didn't ask for a reference note. She simply turned the pegs with terrifying precision. Her movements were fast, almost careless, yet every adjustment was calculated to the micro-millimeter.
*Twist. Pluck. Twist. Pluck.*
In less than three minutes, she handed the violin back.
"Done," Ren said, picking up her cola again. "The G-string needs to settle, so play a scale before you go out. And don't bother me with this again."
Master Wei cradled the violin, strumming the strings. The sound that resonated from the instrument was now perfect, a harmonious vibration that seemed to fill the room with light.
"You have the hands of a god," Master Wei sighed happily. "If only you would play it..."
"Don't push your luck," Ren warned, opening her game again. "Go do your job. I'm going to sleep."
***
Outside in the main lobby, the air was thick with tension and perfume.
**Madam Vivian** and **Vera** had finally recovered from the shock of seeing Ren enter the VVIP door. They had found their seats in the dress circle—good seats, but certainly not the VVIP boxes.
Vivian sat with her back straight, fanning herself with a program. Her mind was racing, trying to reconstruct reality in a way that didn't involve Ren being superior to them.
"It must be a mistake," Vivian whispered to Vera, her voice trembling slightly. "There is no way Ren knows Master Wei personally. Think about it. Master Wei is an artist. He is eccentric. But he is also a snob."
Vera nodded eagerly, desperate for an explanation. "Yes, exactly. Ren is... unrefined. She doesn't know anything about classical music."
"The VVIP entrance," Vivian continued, her eyes narrowing as she formulated a theory. "It's not just for guests. It's also the service entrance for the backstage staff. The cleaners, the caterers, the equipment movers—they all use that door to avoid the main lobby."
Vera's eyes widened. A look of relief washed over her face.
"Of course!" Vera exclaimed, a little too loudly. "She spent all that money on the hospital bill. She must be broke. She's working here! Maybe she's washing dishes or moving chairs."
"That explains the clothes," Vivian sneered. "Who wears a tracksuit to a concert unless they are there to sweep the floor? She probably just got lucky that the guard recognized her as temporary staff."
"How embarrassing," Vera shook her head, her confidence returning. "To think I was worried. She's just a servant in the house of art, while **Faye** is about to become a princess."
Beside them, Faye let out a breath she had been holding. Her hands stopped shaking.
*A servant.* Yes. That made sense. Ren was backstage because she was working, not because she was honored.
Faye smoothed her silk dress. She looked at the stage, her ambition burning brighter than ever. Tonight, she would play. She would dazzle Master Wei. And while she stood in the spotlight, Ren would be in the shadows, scrubbing floors.
The world was right again.
***
The lights dimmed. The audience fell silent.
Master Wei walked onto the stage. He held the "Dolphin" Stradivarius in one hand and his bow in the other. He didn't smile. He didn't bow. He just lifted the instrument to his chin.
He played the opening notes of Bach's *Chaconne*.
The sound was indescribable. It was tragic, triumphant, and devastatingly beautiful. The violin, freshly tuned by Ren's hands, responded to his slightest touch with a clarity that made the audience gasp.
For twenty minutes, the entire hall was under a spell. People wept. Madam Vivian sat frozen, mesmerized.
When the final note faded, the applause was thunderous. It lasted for five minutes.
Then came the second part of the evening: The Audition.
"Next, representing the finest young talent of Moon City, Miss **Faye**."
Faye stood up. She walked onto the stage, her heels clicking on the polished wood. She looked beautiful, fragile, and determined.
She bowed deeply to Master Wei, who was now sitting in a velvet chair to the side of the stage, watching like a judge.
Faye lifted her violin. It was a fine instrument, costing twenty thousand dollars—expensive, but a toy compared to the monster Master Wei had just played.
She began to play *Zigeunerweisen* (Gypsy Airs) by Sarasate.
It was a technically demanding piece, full of rapid runs, left-hand pizzicato, and dramatic tempo changes. Faye had practiced this piece for six months, four hours a day.
She was good.
Her fingers flew across the fingerboard. Her bowing was straight. Her intonation was precise. She hit every high note, navigated every difficult passage without a single mistake.
The audience watched in admiration.
"She's amazing," someone whispered.
"Look at that speed."
"The Lin family really raised a genius."
Vera clutched Vivian's hand, tears of pride in her eyes. "She's doing it. She's perfect."
Faye finished with a flourish, her bow freezing in the air on the final chord. She was breathing hard, sweat glistening on her forehead. She smiled, waiting for the applause.
The audience clapped politely, then enthusiastically. It was a successful performance.
Faye looked at Master Wei, her heart pounding. She waited for his praise. She waited for him to say, "You are the one."
***
Master Wei stood up slowly. He didn't clap.
He walked to the center of the stage, standing next to Faye. He looked at her, his expression unreadable behind his glasses.
A hush fell over the room. Everyone leaned forward to hear the verdict.
"Your technique is solid," Master Wei said. His voice was amplified by the microphone, echoing through the hall. "Your intonation is accurate. You didn't miss a single note."
Faye's smile widened. Her heart soared.
"However," Master Wei continued, his tone shifting to one of boredom. "It was noisy."
Faye's smile froze. "I... beg your pardon?"
"You play like a typewriter," Master Wei said brutally. "Precise, mechanical, and completely devoid of emotion. You are so focused on showing off your speed that you forgot to listen to the music. You weren't playing the violin; you were fighting it."
The silence in the hall was now suffocating. Vera turned pale. Vivian looked like she had swallowed a lemon.
Faye felt like she had been slapped. "But... I played everything correctly..."
"Correct is not art," Master Wei sighed. He looked disappointed. "Art is soul."
He paused, looking out at the audience, then glanced toward the backstage curtain.
"Just ten minutes ago," Master Wei said, his voice softening with genuine admiration, "I was in the green room. A young friend of mine helped me tune my violin."
The audience murmured. Who?
"She didn't play a song," Master Wei continued. "She just plucked the strings. She twisted the pegs. It took her three minutes. And do you know what?"
He looked back at Faye, his eyes cold.
"The sound of her tuning that violin had more music, more understanding, and more soul in it than your entire ten-minute performance."
*Crash.*
It was the sound of Faye's world shattering.
She stood there, humiliated in front of the entire city. To be told she wasn't good enough was one thing. But to be told that someone's *tuning*—a mundane, technical task—was better than her masterpiece? It was an insult of the highest order.
"Who..." Faye whispered, her voice trembling. "Who is she?"
Master Wei didn't answer. He turned his back on her. "Next candidate."
In the third row, **Xavier** sat motionless.
He watched Faye stumble off the stage, tears streaming down her face. He saw Vera and Vivian sitting in their seats, looking like statues of shock.
And he thought about the crumpled black envelope.
He thought about the girl in the tracksuit, drinking cola, calling the legendary Master Wei an "Old Man."
"A friend in the green room," Xavier whispered to himself.
He knew.
Faye had practiced for ten years to be a typewriter.
Ren had walked in off the street, tuned a violin with sticky fingers, and created art.
Xavier looked at the empty stage where the "Dolphin" Stradivarius rested. He realized then that the distance between Faye and Ren wasn't just a gap in skill. It was the difference between a mortal trying to touch the sky, and a god who lived there.
He closed his eyes, a bitter smile touching his lips.
"The Dropout," Xavier murmured. "What a terrifying joke you are playing on us all."
**[Chapter 40 End]**