"Drink?" The man brought out a bottle of his prized red wine.
Cynthia nodded and looked at William.
William didn't drink at all—not for health reasons, just personal habit.
The man raised his glass. "Brother William, if you don't mind."
William smiled and raised his glass as well. It wasn't wine, just a soft drink. "Brother Tate, thank you for having us."
"Haha, no need to be so formal." Uncle Tate let out a hearty laugh. "I don't really have any hobbies—meeting new people is what I enjoy most."
Cynthia said, "It's our honor to be your friends."
"Yes, absolutely," the agent chimed in quickly.
"I heard you two run a company?" Uncle Tate glanced meaningfully at the agent as he spoke.
William didn't care. The agent had already told them his info anyway.
"Just a small studio."
"Don't look down on small studios. I started out in a tiny storefront too. And now, look at me." Uncle Tate spread his arms wide, showing off himself—and everything behind him.
"Hope I can be like you someday." William raised his glass to him.
"You will, you will."
Cynthia gave a playful smile. "Though maybe not in this house."
Uncle Tate almost choked on his wine. "Cough, cough—Miss Cynthia, come on, we're all doing honest business here. I've been straight with you about everything. If you're serious about renting, I'm open to discussing price."
"Good to hear." Cynthia sipped her wine calmly.
Seeing the conversation turn back to the house, the agent quickly put down his chopsticks. "Mr. Tate, my client really does want to rent. Why don't you just give us your best price?"
Uncle Tate glanced at him, said nothing, then turned to William. "Brother William, what do you think?"
Negotiation wasn't William's strong suit—he left it to Cynthia. "I'll go with whatever she says."
"Oh?" Uncle Tate gave a knowing smile. "Smart choice—Miss Cynthia's clearly someone who gets things done."
"Don't flatter me. I'm just a worker," Cynthia said coolly. "5500 dollar a month, we'll rent for one year. We can put down six months' deposit."
Uncle Tate shook his head. "How about this—I'll give you a number. Since it's a one-year lease, forget the deposit. Just don't break anything. 55.000 dollar total. May we all get rich together."
"Impressive." Cynthia gave him a thumbs-up.
William raised his glass. "Then it's settled."
"Great!" The agent stood up, beaming with pride.
Uncle Tate glanced at him calmly. "Then could you please go draft the contract?"
"Got it!" The agent cheerfully left the restaurant.
Once the door was closed, Uncle Tate asked, "I haven't asked—what do you two do for a living?"
"Software development," William replied.
"High-level tech people, huh!"
"To be precise, game development," Cynthia added.
"Games?" Uncle Tate's eyes lit up. "There are actually a few really popular ones lately."
Surprising that a man in his fifties would still be into games.
"You play?" Cynthia sneaked a glance at William.
"I do!" Uncle Tate grinned. "Gotta say, tech these days is amazing. Games have gotten so good."
Cynthia asked, "Which one do you mean?"
"Piano Tiles. Ever heard of it?"
At that, Cynthia couldn't help but smile.
Uncle Tate went on, lost in thought: "Back when I was your age, things were totally different. The country was still being built up, everything was a mess, and unless you were in a performance troupe, normal folks had no way to get close to music. When I was in my twenties, just a lowly worker, I happened to hear a beautiful girl playing piano in a shop."
"She was wearing a floral dress, looking just like a princess. I was just a poor kid—how could I have dared talk to someone like that? So I thought, maybe if I knew how to play piano, I'd have a chance to say something to her. Never thought decades later, I'd finally make that dream come true. Just… that girl had long stopped playing piano."
"What's she doing now?" Cynthia asked.
"She's a grandma now, stays home and looks after my grandson."
What sounded like a story about dreams turned out to be a love story after all.
"You're amazing," William chuckled.
"Haha." Uncle Tate raised his glass. "Kid, keep going. Don't give up just because you can't get something right now. You never know when Lady Luck will show up."
As he spoke, he glanced at Cynthia on purpose.
Whatever he was thinking, knowing someone liked his game was still a great feeling. You could even call this dinner his first fan meeting, though Uncle Tate had no idea.
After signing the lease drawn up by the agent, with a third party as witness, William officially gained the right to live in the villa.
"If you want to change the lock, go ahead—but don't touch anything else, okay? I had a feng shui master go over the place," Uncle Tate said kindly before leaving.
After seeing him off, William turned to Cynthia. "You can stay here tonight. I need to head back."
"Okay, see you at the studio tomorrow."
"See you."
Back at Aunt Lisa's, it wasn't too late yet—still about 30 or 40 minutes before Jenny's bedtime.
Hearing the door, Aunt Lisa came over. Seeing it was William, she asked, "Where were you all day?"
"House hunting."
"How'd it go?"
"Found one."
"Oh? Where?"
"Elton Pavilion."
"The villa area?" Aunt Lisa gave him a strange look. "That place isn't cheap, is it?"
"The landlord's really nice, so it's not too bad."
Aunt Lisa stared at him for a few seconds, then said nothing and turned back to the living room.
William changed his shoes and walked in—only to bump into Jenny, who came over with tears in her eyes.
"You're moving out?"
"I'll be back. And you're always welcome to come visit." William comforted her, gently patting her head.
"You said you'd wait until I learned to play Canon! Liar!" Jenny angrily shook off his hand.
William crouched down and held her shoulders with both hands. "Then let's go play it together, okay?"
Jenny blinked, pouted, and said, "Okay."
Dun.
Dun.
Dun.
That familiar tune—every time a player got frustrated in challenge mode, they would hear it. No need to do anything, just quietly close your eyes, feel the calm of the world, and imagine a love story told through the sound of the piano.
One of the reasons Piano Tiles gained so much praise was because of its music. The more you listened, the more you could feel the skill behind each song.
Very few people knew the creator was just a boy who had just turned eighteen—someone destined to be extraordinary.
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