Hearing Xia Shiyun say that, Li Qian also chuckled and remarked, "Indeed, where in this world are there such bizarre coincidences?" Yet, the world truly is capable of such strange alignments of fate.

While they were still discussing things on this side, the young man also seemed to catch on, as if a thought had struck him. A strange light flickered in his eyes as he raised a hand toward all the patrons, announcing, "I shall play for the sake of all these cheering spectators."

"Yes, yes, Miss, please play one more piece," the restaurant owner chimed in, adding his plea at this moment.

"Yes, yes. Play just one more!" the guests called out, their applause incessant.

The woman surveyed the room, the curve of her lips holding a profound ambiguity. She hadn't overly adorned her natural beauty; it was merely the effortless elegance of her features. When her gaze settled on Yang Yi, a sudden smile touched her lips as she walked toward him.

Yang Yi couldn't fathom why this woman gave him an ingrained sense of familiarity, nor why she was looking at him now, approaching with such an enigmatic smile. Sometimes, not knowing certain things is far happier than knowing them. Because to know something spells trouble means deliberately avoiding it, and avoidance only ensures that trouble will multiply.

Seeing everyone’s attention shift toward them, Xia Shiyun and Li Qian instinctively covered themselves slightly, hoping to avoid recognition. This was understandable, as they were, after all, the members of the Phantom Duo. However, their caution was a bit self-congratulatory, as the gaze of the crowd was fixed not on them, but on the mysterious woman and Yang Yi.

"How about this: if this young master is willing to play a piece for me, I will play another in return," the woman proposed, her enigmatic smile preceding words so stunning they left everyone in the restaurant momentarily frozen.

Once they processed the statement, the eyes of everyone in the restaurant instantly flicked toward Yang Yi—some pleading, some skeptical, and others frowning in clear displeasure. Most prominent was perhaps that young man; he stepped before Yang Yi and declared, "Miss, this gentleman looks fair and delicate, but he's thin as a rail. More importantly, his fingers aren't long enough; he’s simply not suited for the piano. Aren't you setting the bar a bit high?"

This young man was openly disparaging Yang Yi, showing him absolutely no regard. Yet, upon hearing this, Yang Yi showed no unusual reaction, merely offering a familiar, casual smile. Li Qian and Xia Shiyun on the side only furrowed their delicate brows, offering no comment.

Indeed, given Yang Yi's somewhat roguish appearance, convincing most people he could play the piano would be a hard sell. Of course, this applied only to those who didn't know him. Furthermore, from the perspective of a professional piano master, Yang Yi would seem utterly unsuitable for the instrument, though even they might hesitate to declare he couldn't play at all.

For a pianist, finger length needs to be appropriate, but having extremely long fingers doesn't automatically make someone suitable. Yang Yi’s fingers were medium length—not legendary in their length, perhaps, but certainly possessing enough character to master the piano. It was simply that this fellow disliked spending much time near a piano. Having aspired since childhood to master everything from high-society knowledge to various musical instruments, the piano was, for him, child's play.

The woman frowned upon hearing the young man’s words but made no overt gesture of displeasure. She merely stated with a cool, elegant demeanor, "I regret to say that once my word is spoken, it is like spilled water; it cannot be taken back. If this young master is unwilling to play, then I have no choice but to leave first."

"Ah..." That young man, whatever his motives, seemed intent on making things difficult for the woman at every turn.

In truth, Yang Yi had already perceived the young man's calculating eyes and noticed how he repeatedly employed petty tactics to delay the woman, preventing her swift departure. His objective was clearly to stall for time, seemingly awaiting someone. Despite this, Yang Yi paid it little mind. What occupied his thoughts more was why this woman was asking him to play, and how she knew he could play at all.

"Um, excuse me, Miss, how did you know I could play the piano?" Yang Yi finally voiced his question.

Seeing that Yang Yi had finally addressed her, the woman felt a flicker of excitement and anticipation, which she swiftly suppressed. Maintaining her placid expression, she replied, "You don't need to concern yourself with how I know. As long as Student Yang is willing to play a piece for me, I will play a corresponding passage in return."

"Oh!" Yang Yi was surprised. This woman was indeed becoming more intriguing. How did she know his name? Muttering to himself, he chuckled, "How interesting. You actually know me."

"If you wish to know how I know you!" The woman smiled faintly and gestured toward the piano stage, saying, "Please!"

"Intriguing," Yang Yi smiled and walked toward the piano.

However, just as he reached the stage, the woman watching with keen expectation, and Li Qian and Xia Shiyun beginning to compose themselves, a sudden voice cut across toward Yang Yi, "Hey, kid, you need some substance to back up your posturing. Can you even play?"

Yang Yi turned his head toward the entrance upon hearing this. There stood the young man—the entirety of his earlier actions now revealing their true purpose. Standing by the doorway was a strikingly well-dressed youth, roughly the same age as Yang Yi. He was the son of an executive at a Shanghai enterprise, named 'Zeng Shaolong.' His father had named him with aspirations of him becoming a dragon among men, though Zeng Shaolong’s conduct suggested a greater leaning toward becoming mere 'vermin.'

His dissolute nature aside, this fellow was extremely self-indulgent, the epitome of an entitled second-generation rich kid. His face was etched with blatant challenge as he stared straight at Yang Yi. What he said was clearly an attempt to undermine Yang Yi while deliberately showing off—a tactic, unfortunately, misapplied.

Yang Yi shook his head, walked to the piano bench, and sat down. He gazed quietly at the black and white keys, recalling a book he had once seen somewhere, titled 'Epiphanies.' There was a saying in that book that Yang Yi found profoundly true: ‘A person only lives once; there is no need to live so tiredly!’

To live only once! This was a basic truth people often forgot. Since one only gets one life, one should focus on how to live it. Why torture oneself by living too heavily?

To be truly weary is to be soul-tired. One shouldn't grieve excessively over a poor situation; life is never perpetually smooth sailing. Why fret for five minutes over a supervisor's displeased glance? In the future, there will be ample opportunities to prove oneself, and besides, "The official post changes hands, but the bureaucracy remains," a truth unchanged through the ages.

Thinking this would make anyone feel more serene; seeing others achieve success should not breed envy, which is detrimental to health. It is enough to simply do one's best. This was Yang Yi's takeaway after reading that passage. People can indeed be foolish at times, much like Zeng Shaolong, whose face was currently twisted with challenge and scorn. This type of person clearly lives a life weighed down by exertion.

Always maintaining a resolve to cultivate his inner refinement through self-discipline, Yang Yi finished observing the keys and recalled a piano piece that suited the ideal state of his heart at that moment. Though it was an ideal, one mustn't forget that ideals remain ideals precisely because they cannot be tethered to reality.

"The Imprint of Rain!" Yang Yi murmured these words softly, glancing with gentle affection at the two beauties seated nearby. Sometimes, one feels utterly lost. What is the right path, and how does one avoid error? Perhaps these so-called rights and wrongs hinge entirely on a single thought.

"The Imprint of Rain?" The woman heard Yang Yi whisper the title but didn't have time to react.

Those exquisite and mournful melodies flowed from the piano. This was the third time Yang Yi had played, and he played as he recalled his past, channeling his feelings into the music. Though he might not possess the skill of a professional pianist to infuse his current mood directly into the piece to cultivate its pure beauty, the essence was there.

What life carries is not responsibility, nor burden, but that faint, delicate happiness.

Time flows like a river; youth vanishes in what feels like an instant, withering like last year's withered flowers under a heavy frost. When you hear a young man call you 'Uncle' for the first time, perhaps you don't feel flattered by the respectful address. On the contrary, you feel a pang of sorrow. It alerts you that you are no longer young; youth has slipped away, and time spares no one.

The melody of 'The Imprint of Rain' played by Yang Yi’s hands conveyed exactly this. There was no excessive sorrow, no excessive pleading, only a faint, beautiful, warm sense of sudden clarity. It felt as though one had been bathed in a cleansing rain, reborn.

Everyone in the restaurant unconsciously fell under the spell of the melody's essence. The expressions on their faces seemed to reveal their own views on life: do not question others, nor heaven or earth, only ask oneself—what is the purpose of living? Perhaps it is simply to prove that one once existed in this world, to leave behind an imprint.