As time went by, the concert venue gradually filled up with eager fans. With almost all seats occupied, it was apparent that despite the short timeframe and limited promotional efforts, nearly eight thousand tickets had been sold, showcasing Qiu Qianwei’s significant influence.

At 7:30 PM, the concert officially began. Qiu Qianwei entered the stage, elegantly dressed, and was greeted with thunderous applause. She warmly greeted the audience before settling at the piano.

The concert commenced with a soothing rendition of “Moonlight Sonata,” setting a vibrant atmosphere. Qiu Qianwei then performed several renowned piano pieces, offering the audience an auditory treat.

Midway through the concert, after the world-famous pieces concluded, it was time for Qiu Qianwei to introduce her original works. Her voice, clear and melodic, echoed through the sound system:

“Recently, there’s been a mysterious Piano God online that many of you might be aware of. I wanted to perform one of his compositions, but I couldn’t reach him to purchase the rights. It’s really a pity. So if anyone knows how to contact this Piano God, please let me know.”

Her words, laced with playfulness, also carried a hint of disappointment.

“Goddess, I am the Piano God! Look at me, look at me!” shouted a male fan from the audience, wearing a paper mask.

Qiu Qianwei felt a brief surge of excitement, but it quickly faded as others joined the ruckus.

“He’s not, I’m the real Piano God!”

“You’re all impostors; I’m the Piano God!”

The scene turned amusing as fans, each wearing paper masks, shouted in succession. Qiu Qianwei couldn’t help but smile at the humorous atmosphere, but she also felt a twinge of worry.

It was clear these fans were impostors, not the real deal. The true Piano God’s skills surpassed her own significantly. Why would he lower himself to attend her concert? Perhaps he had seen her handwriting on the poster and found it lacking, leading him to decline her invitation as a special guest.

This thought weighed on her, but the concert had to continue. Qiu Qianwei refocused and started playing one of her original compositions.

When the piece ended, the audience erupted into applause, visibly moved. Though they were clearly touched, Qiu Qianwei felt little excitement; instead, a sense of inadequacy loomed over her. Her compositions weren’t on par with Piano God’s, rendering her performance pale in comparison.

As Qiu Qianwei wrapped up her piece, a message came through her earpiece from the stage manager. It was time for the lucky audience segment.

This segment involved selecting an audience member at random to join Qiu Qianwei on stage for a four-hand piano piece. A staff member approached with a box, and Qiu Qianwei drew a slip of paper from it.

“Row 1, Seat 8.”

She read the number aloud. For transparency, the director displayed the slip’s content on the big screen for everyone to see.

“Isn’t that where we are? Let’s check,” Qin Yunhan said excitedly to her friends.

The seat numbers were printed on the backrests, making it easy to confirm.

“It seems to be me,” Wang Haoran said.

“Wow, you’re so lucky!” Mu Zhaozhao exclaimed, her doll-like face filled with surprise.

“Handsome people have all the luck,” Qin Yunhan teased.

“Absolutely,” Xu Muyan agreed with a smile.

Wen Jing remained silent but nodded energetically in agreement.

Wang Haoran, wearing a paper mask he had prepared earlier, stepped onto the stage. He wanted to keep a low profile and avoid fame, hence the mask. Although masked, the ticket was given to him by Qiu Qianwei. Row 1, Seat 8 was among the five tickets he had distributed.

Seeing the masked individual was not a girl, Qiu Qianwei instantly recognized him as Wang Haoran.

“You’re quite lucky,” she whispered, away from the microphone.

Lucky?

Wang Haoran smiled without a word. Lucky wasn’t the right term; he had spent a fortune arranging this so-called “lucky draw” to impress Qiu Qianwei.

“I guess I am. Maybe I should try buying a lottery ticket tomorrow,” Wang Haoran replied with a quiet laugh.

After their brief exchange, Qiu Qianwei moved on with the program.

“This lucky friend, do you know how to play the piano?” Qiu Qianwei asked, adjusting the microphone toward Wang Haoran for his response.

“I know a little bit.”

A little bit? Qiu Qianwei quickly assessed that Wang Haoran might be a beginner and asked:

“Do you know ‘Für Elise’?”

“No,” Wang Haoran replied.

“What about ‘Memories of Childhood’?”

“Also no.”

“‘Wedding in the Dream’?”

“Still no.”

“‘Nocturne No. 5’?”

“Not that one either.”

Qiu Qianwei felt a headache coming on. These pieces were basic; most beginners knew them. Clearly, Wang Haoran wasn’t even at the beginner level, merely familiar with the keys.

“So, you don’t know any of them,” Qiu Qianwei said.

“Not quite, I do know some challenging pieces.”

“Which ones?” Qiu Qianwei, surprised, inquired. Aside from the beginner pieces she listed, what else could he know?

“The Third Piano Concerto,” Wang Haoran answered earnestly. Having acquired his piano skills all at once, he bypassed the basics and focused on complex pieces during practice, such as “The Third Piano Concerto.”

Qiu Qianwei stared at Wang Haoran in amazement. Were he not someone she knew, she’d have thought he was making a jest as a lucky audience member. No piano school would skip basics and jump straight to an arduous piece like “The Third Piano Concerto.”

“‘The Third Piano Concerto’ is too difficult. What else can you play?” Qiu Qianwei asked gently, trying not to discourage him.

“Well, how about ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’?” Wang Haoran suggested thoughtfully.

Qiu Qianwei sighed internally. “Flight of the Bumblebee” was a challenging Grade 9 exam piece, but it was somewhat easier than “The Third Piano Concerto.”