When Chu Lian returned to where her classmates were gathered, she immediately noticed Zhang Feng being kept at a distance. Her arrival drew complicated looks from the others.
So much had happened in just one day, and Chu Lian seemed to have played a pivotal role in it all. She could understand why they looked at her this way.
Still, none of them had been harmed, and even Zhang Feng—who had been confirmed dead—had somehow come back to life.
But it was precisely because of this bizarre resurrection that they kept him isolated. Even those who had encountered mysterious forces before might feel fear, let alone these students who had never faced something so strange. Fear was natural, and both Zhang Feng and Chu Lian were prepared for it.
Time, however, was the best medicine. It wouldn't be long before Zhang Feng would be accepted back. A familiar person, no matter how unsettling, was easier to embrace than a stranger.
"Do you all know the whole story?" Chu Lian found a table, sat on it while holding Inori's hand, and looked toward her classmates.
"Even though we're glad Zhang Feng didn't die, the idea of resurrection is terrifying. I'd rather believe he wasn't fatally wounded and that's why he survived," one thin boy with glasses finally answered.
"You'd rather believe in ghosts, fake TV shows, and online lies than trust a classmate you've known for months? How ridiculous," Chu Lian said bluntly, knowing a soft approach wouldn't solve this. She went straight for confrontation.
"It's not that we don't believe—it's that we can't accept it!" the boy shot back, face flushed. Chu Lian chuckled. "What's the difference? Believing but refusing to accept is the same as not believing. Changing the wording won't fool anyone. And if you truly believed, why are you standing so far away from him? What are you afraid of?"
Once she decided to address a problem, she never gave room to retreat. "You've been scared out of your wits by this accident. The moment something defies common sense, you reject it instinctively."
"Where's that pride of the so-called 'elite'? All I see is a group of cowards—people so afraid of their own classmate. I wonder if you even have the courage to finish the remaining eleven cities on our trip.
"Maybe his case is shocking, but compared to the girl flying through the sky with a greatsword, what is it? If that girl appeared here, you'd swarm her with questions, not run away."
"In the end, it's your ugly side—cruel to those you know, but pretending to be respectful to strangers. Disgusting."
Her words hit home despite their harshness. Faces flushed with shame, and some girls' eyes filled with tears.
"Forget it. Zhang Feng will be sent for testing soon. None of us wanted this to happen, but I believe he'll be fine. If he comes back, will you accept him?" Chu Lian's tone softened.
"Of course. If he's fine, there's no reason to be afraid," a stubborn-looking girl said, biting her lip. Her words made the others voice their agreement.
Seeing her goal achieved, Chu Lian let out a quiet sigh of relief, though she showed no change in expression—only exchanging glances with Chu Chu, Zhang Feng, Ning Zhiyuan, and Cai Ya.
It really was true that they were still kids. At this age, they could adapt quickly, but their pride was equally strong. A mix of provocation and harsh words was enough to stir them into acting impulsively, making decisions they might never have considered before. Even if they regretted it later, their pride would push them to stick with it—and once they did, misunderstandings would fade with time.
With the matter settled, it was time for her to do what she felt was necessary. This incident had begun with her and ended with her, but the dead couldn't all return like Zhang Feng. The guilt wasn't entirely hers to bear, yet she couldn't ignore it. She wasn't "Black Chu Lian," capable of treating lives as nothing. She was still just a person—responsible, remorseful, fearful, and with a desire to mend regrets.
What she wanted to do was simple: hold a solitary concert for the victims. She couldn't yet heal physical wounds, but she could soothe fear and sorrow, ease the grief of those who had lost loved ones, and address the despair and confusion over fate.
And she had Inori with her. Even if Inori couldn't sing most of the songs, she could harmonize, enhancing the performance.
While the atmosphere was still delicate, Chu Lian slipped into an empty room and took out the zither case from her system space. This time, she planned to use only the guzheng. Whether humming or pure instrumental, it was the most fitting choice—too clear for the xiao, too charming for the pipa, too sorrowful for the erhu. Only the versatile guzheng suited this moment.
Without Ayase, her perfect performance partner, the effect would inevitably be diminished, but she wasn't here to put on a flawless show. She was breaking her earlier vow not to perform in public for one reason: to find peace of mind.
Inori, silently following her, suddenly spoke: "Lian, let me help you later. I only know one song, but it fits." Chu Lian was momentarily startled, then nodded.
She knew Inori just didn't want her to shoulder too much alone. No matter how well she hid it, Inori could still sense the fragility beneath the surface. Chu Lian gave a wry smile and said, "Alright, then let's do a duet of Euterpe. It's in Japanese, but music has no borders—they'll understand."
Squeezing Inori's small hand, Chu Lian turned and smiled brightly. "Inori, I had planned to keep you hidden a while longer before letting the public see you, but this trip exposed you already. Sorry…"
Inori suddenly flicked her forehead and said, "It was bound to happen. If I can help you, I have no regrets."
That gentle flick made Chu Lian pause, then smile sincerely. She's starting to change. Maybe she won't remain the expressionless diva I first met—but she'll be a woman who lives with a smile. The you I like should be happiest, not someone who forgets how to smile.
Hand in hand, they stepped out. Chu Lian, dressed in black Gothic elegance with a zither case on her back, and Inori, like a figure from a CG rendering—long pink hair, flawless features—were sights impossible to ignore.
The pair naturally drew countless eyes—some numb, some still tinged with fear, some despairing, some confused, and some already calm.
They didn't know why these two girls would appear here in such a setting. Had they not felt the fear of death during this disaster? How could they still look so young and radiant?
Chu Lian ignored their stares. She found a spot slightly elevated, moved a long table there, set down the zither case, and opened it to take out her guzheng. Then she produced two identical microphones—Lacus Clyne's Microphone—exchanged for Integrity Points to ensure the best performance quality. Finally, she brought out a small music player and a compact speaker.
Those maintaining order noticed the strange pair and were about to act when a beautiful melody drifted through the air—the opening of Euterpe. Then came the angelic voices of the two girls.
Line by line, they sang, questioning the meaning behind the harm humans caused one another, wondering why peace was so elusive, and wishing people could be as free as wildflowers blooming on the prairie.
Even if the crowd couldn't understand the words, even if the meaning was unclear, the seamless harmony and alternation between the two voices gently conveyed their intent, like a flowing stream settling into the heart.
The three-minute song soothed many, but for those most deeply affected, one piece wasn't enough. Chu Lian knew that even with the high-tech speaker carrying the sound across the venue, one song couldn't heal them—it would take more.
She set the microphone before the guzheng and motioned for Inori to stand behind her. Sitting cross-legged on the higher ground, her slender fingers brushed the strings. Looking at the people watching her, she began to sing: "Clear ripples at dusk, the breeze flows light; the moon knows not the hearts of men. How many fleeting glories pass before the eyes, a thousand years waiting for what once was…"
It was the prelude to Moonlit Ripples on the Jade Lake! Excitement rippled through the crowd. Some recognized her immediately as the girl who had recently played the song's essence with four different instruments—Chu Lian herself, now here to perform it for them.
The gentle, ethereal notes drew everyone into a hazy dreamscape, soothing wounds, erasing joys and sorrows, and evoking a desire to simply grow old within that moment.
In this special setting, Chu Lian's musicianship seemed to reach new heights, tugging at the hearts of all who listened.
Under the darkening sky, the girl stood on the high ground, playing for those who had just endured disaster—offering the most comforting gift she could give.