Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Those Were the Days

As the music ended, Banxia closed her eyes.

For a brief moment, she felt her body dissolve, her spirit soaring, carried by warm waves of pure, boundless joy.

The exhilaration of expressing the music in her heart, the exquisite pleasure of that perfect performance, the transcendent moment of connection… it was indescribable, but she knew that others, somewhere in the world, had felt it too. It was the reason they dedicated their lives to music, pursuing that fleeting moment of perfect harmony.

The applause, the spotlight, the competition results… none of it mattered. She had already received her reward. Even the lingering pain and resentment in her heart seemed to fade in the afterglow of the music.

She opened her eyes, her feet firmly planted on the stage, feeling grounded, rooted, like a tree drawing strength from the earth.

The world might still be full of storms and darkness, but she had found her source of strength, her own inner light, and she was no longer afraid.

The applause continued. She looked out at the audience for the first time, her gaze sweeping past the judges' panel, towards the wider world beyond, then she smiled, bowed, and, her old violin in hand, walked backstage.

Jiang Lin, sitting in the center of the judges' panel, watched her.

The young violinist, having poured her heart into her music, had closed her eyes, a serene smile on her face, savoring the joy of that perfect expression, that moment of pure musical bliss.

Jiang Lin understood that joy. Few people in this world had experienced it. He had, once.

He had been an unknown musician, blessed with an extraordinary talent, often experiencing that transcendent state, a gift from the gods.

Now, he was famous, his schedule filled with international engagements, yet that feeling, that exquisite joy, had eluded him for years.

He hadn't realized its value until it was gone. And now, he longed for it, desperately.

He dreaded the whispers behind his back: "Jiang Lin is past his prime. His technique has declined."

The words stung, but he refused to acknowledge their truth.

The young woman on stage opened her eyes, her pale gaze, clear and cool as a mountain spring, sweeping across the audience.

Her eyes met his for a fleeting moment, then moved on, as if he was a stranger, insignificant, irrelevant.

A shiver ran down Jiang Lin's spine. Memories of twenty years ago flooded his mind.

Before leaving for abroad, he had held her hand, whispering empty promises, reassuring her of his love, his commitment, his intention to provide for her and their unborn child, trying to assuage his own guilt.

She had looked at him with the same indifferent gaze, then pulled her hand away, turned, and walked away without a word, without a backward glance.

As if she had seen through his lies, as if she was the one abandoning him.

---

Backstage, as Banxia walked towards the exit, her violin case on her back, her long skirt swirling around her ankles, a young man stopped her.

He didn't look like a typical music student. He had a healthy tan, his clothes stylish, his smile confident and charming.

If Ling Dong was Rongyin's aloof, ethereal prince, then this man was a prince of a different kind, equally captivating, his presence commanding attention.

"Hello, I'm Zhang Qinyun. Your performance was incredible, truly breathtaking," he said, extending his hand, his smile warm and genuine, his eyes filled with admiration.

He assumed she would recognize his name: a multiple award winner, a favorite to win the Collegiate Cup, a future Menuhin Competition contestant.

But Banxia just looked at him blankly. "Oh… thank you."

She genuinely hadn't heard of him. She hadn't even memorized the names of the famous violinists in her textbooks, let alone the current generation of performers.

Zhang Qinyun was slightly taken aback, but his smile didn't falter. "I've competed against Shang Xiaoyue several times. Perhaps she's mentioned me. I was surprised she wasn't at the Collegiate Cup this year," he continued, his voice smooth and charming. "But after hearing you play, I understand why. You're a worthy successor."

Banxia frowned. "Xiaoyue didn't lose to me."

Zhang Qinyun raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Music isn't a sport. There's no such thing as winning or losing," Banxia said earnestly. "Xiaoyue has her own musical voice. She'll find her own stage. We're not rivals. We're… colleagues, friends. Playing together, that's the true joy of music."

Zhang Qinyun chuckled. "Such lofty ideals."

His tone was slightly mocking, clearly not believing her.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't have that kind of friendship," Banxia said, giving him a look of pity. "I hear men are always competing with each other, unlike us girls. We value our friendships."

Even Zhang Qinyun, with his impeccable manners, was momentarily speechless.

The girl before him, her starry dress revealing her pale shoulders and delicate collarbone, a black lizard perched on her shoulder, its eyes fixed on him, looked both mysterious and alluring.

Like a Cinderella from a fairy tale.

Or perhaps not Cinderella, but a princess, a queen in the making.

Though others might not have noticed it yet, Zhang Qinyun, with his keen musical instincts, sensed a threat.

"Are you… leaving already?" he asked, his smile fading as she turned to go, his voice now serious. "My performance is this afternoon. Aren't you going to stay and listen? I'm not Shang Xiaoyue. I won't lose to you."

Banxia waved her hand dismissively. "No need to rush. If I make it to the finals, I'll hear you play then."

---

Banxia, leaving the concert hall, was unaware of the heated debate her performance had sparked among the judges.

"Her technique is impressive, but her interpretation is too… unconventional," one judge said, shaking his head. "I don't think she should advance to the finals. If Tchaikovsky heard what she did to his concerto, he'd be turning in his grave."

"That's ridiculous! If we don't let her into the finals, we'll be the laughingstock of the music world! Just listen to the applause! They're still clapping! She deserves a place in the finals!" another judge argued.

"Being faithful to the score is the ultimate form of respect for classical music! If our conservatories are producing musicians who have no respect for the score, then what hope is there for the future of classical music?!" the first judge exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table.

"Respect for the score doesn't mean a lifeless, mechanical rendition! A true understanding of the music, a genuine emotional connection, that's what true respect is! I'm giving her a high score, regardless of what you think!" the other judge retorted, equally passionate.

It was the first time the judges had been so divided.

Unable to reach a consensus, they turned to the two most respected musicians on the panel:

Fu Zhengqi, the elder statesman of the music world.

And Jiang Lin, the internationally acclaimed violinist.

Jiang Lin hesitated, his pen hovering over the score sheet, his mind filled with conflicting emotions.

"She reminds me of you, back in the day," a voice said from behind him.

Jiang Lin turned and saw the white-haired Mr. Fu.

"Years ago, a young, talented musician, just like her, stood on that stage, his music filled with a pure, unadulterated passion that moved me to tears," Mr. Fu said, filling out his score sheet. "Now, he's famous, but his technique has declined. I haven't heard that same spark in his music for years."

Jiang Lin knew he was talking about him. Fu Zhengqi had been one of his judges when he was a young, unknown musician, a mentor who had recognized his talent. But they had fallen out later, their musical philosophies diverging.

Now, his most deeply hidden insecurity, his greatest fear, laid bare, Jiang Lin's face tightened, his jaw clenching. "You haven't changed, Mr. Fu. Still crushing the dreams of young musicians with your harsh words. You tried to stop me from going abroad. What are you going to do to this girl?"

"I advised you not to rush, not to chase fame and awards, not to sign with a music company before you had found your own musical voice," Mr. Fu said, showing him his score sheet. "A true genius will thrive under pressure, grow stronger, become a towering figure. But those who lack patience, who take shortcuts, will eventually regret their choices."

He had given Banxia a 9.9, a clear indication of his approval.

"You can see it too, can't you? She's a true genius. I don't know why you're hesitating. But no matter what score you give her, you can't stop her from shining, from sharing her gift with the world."

Jiang Lin's face paled. After a long pause, he finally wrote down his score.

---

Banxia, leaving the concert hall, was unaware of the debate among the judges. The semi-final performances were long, and with forty contestants, it would be at least three days before the results were announced.

She returned to her hotel room, still buzzing from the performance, unable to relax. She sat by the window, playing a simple melody on her violin.

The music was simple and pure, like a gentle breeze rustling through a summer forest.

"Xiao Lian, I'm too excited to sleep," she said, her eyes shining. "I just wanted to play something to calm down. This is a song written by my best friend, from when I was a child."

Xiao Lian sat on the small table in front of her, his head raised, his dark gold eyes gleaming like molten glass.

"You like it too, don't you?" Banxia murmured, lost in the music, oblivious to his intense gaze. "Playing this song… it takes me back to a simpler time, a time of… innocence."

"You… remember him?" Xiao Lian asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"I don't really remember him," she said, her voice soft, the music echoing her memories. "After my mother passed away, I was very sick. Many of my childhood memories are… blurry. But for some reason, I remember this song. Clearly."

She doesn't remember him, but she remembers his song, Xiao Lian thought.

A smile touched Banxia's lips.

She remembered a hot summer day, sitting with her friend in the sunlit window, surrounded by flowers, the grape trellis casting shadows on the courtyard, her clumsy fingers struggling to play the melody he had written.

"That sounds terrible! Like sawing wood!" he had complained, wrinkling his nose.

"Don't worry! I'll get better!" she had insisted, her bow sawing away at the strings. "And when I do, I'll play all your songs, perfectly! Just wait and see!"

She remembered his song, but she couldn't remember him.

Old Mr. Mu had passed away years ago, the house next door, once filled with music and laughter, now abandoned and overgrown.

She wondered where Xiao Lian was now, how he was doing.

I wish he could hear me play now, she thought. I can finally play his song properly.

Sitting by the window of her hotel room, high above the bustling city, she felt like she was back in that sunlit window, her friend beside her, their music a language of shared dreams and unspoken emotions.

The simple melody, the quiet intimacy, the little black gecko sitting beside her, a silent witness to those innocent days.

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