The fake heiress loves to act? The max-level boss isn't interested in playing along.

As soon as Fu Hua entered the courtyard, she heard the smooth sound of a piano flowing out of the living room like water.

It's Chopin's Nocturne.

The rhythm and dynamics of each note matched the score perfectly, with virtually no technical errors.

You can tell that Fu Chaochao has put in a lot of effort in playing the piano.

Fu Hua stood in the darkness and listened quietly for a while.

His fingers unconsciously twitched at his side.

In her past life, she first touched a piano at the age of six.

He won his first international award at the age of ten.

She was already able to give solo recitals at the age of fifteen.

Piano playing wasn't a talent for her.

It is breathing, it is language, it is another way of expressing the world.

Later she also learned the violin, the guqin, and the flute.

Art is interconnected!

She believes that music is the intersection of reason and emotion.

She can relax her tense nerves and nourish her soul while doing scientific research.

But she ultimately chose physics.

It's not because I lack talent.

On the contrary, her mentor once said with great distress, "Your musical talent is one in a hundred years. Why do you insist on doing scientific research?"

Why?

Because science and music are fundamentally different.

What is music?

It is beauty, it is emotion, it is the tremor of the human soul.

But it cannot change the laws governing how the world works.

It cannot solve the energy crisis, shorten the information distance, or cure terminal diseases.

Science can.

Or rather, it's possible.

She wanted to get to the root of the problem.

One day, perhaps we can find our origin and see where we belong.

She tiptoed into the living room, intending to quietly return upstairs.

"Oh, the great scientist is back?"

Fu Youchuan leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed.

The sarcasm in her tone was like tiny thorns: "I thought you were going to stay up all night in the lab? After all, don't researchers have to work day and night?"

The piano music stopped.

Fu Chaochao turned around from the piano bench, her hands still resting on the keys.

With a gentle smile, she asked, "Huahua's back? Have you eaten?"

"have eaten."

Fu Hua gave a brief reply, her gaze sweeping over her mother, Su Yurou, who was sitting at the piano.

She was wearing a light purple cardigan today, and her hair was loosely tied up.

His gaze towards Fu Hua was somewhat complicated.

Hesitated, wanting to say something, but instead spoke with concern.

"Huahua, why are you so late?"

"I run into a friend and we grab a bite to eat."

Su Yurou nodded: "Okay, don't go home so late next time, it's not safe."

Fu Hua softly hummed in agreement.

Su Yurou turned to Fu Chaochao: "Play that part again, but with a lighter touch in your left hand, like a feather brushing across the surface of water."

"Okay, Mom."

Fu Chaochao sat up straight again, her fingertips fell, and the music started again.

Fu Hua lifted her foot to go upstairs, but Fu Youchuan wouldn't give up.

Raising her voice to drown out the piano music: "Fu Hua, do you know what Chaochao is going to do tomorrow? Damn it, the theater troupe invited foreign guests and specifically asked Chaochao to perform!"

Have you heard of William Steinberg? A world-class piano master.

After listening to Chaochao's recording, they specifically said they wanted to meet her, and might even take her on as a student!

He raised his chin slightly as he said this, his eyes almost overflowing with smugness.

That was the pride that the Fu family had grown accustomed to.

Fu Chaochao's artistic talent, Fu Chaochao's elegance and poise, and Fu Chaochao's ability to be appreciated by foreign guests.

Fu Chaochao is better than you!

This is what Fu Youchuan wanted to express.

Fu Hua stood in the shadows of the entryway, clutching a brown paper bag, her face expressionless.

The sound of the piano flowed in my ears, poignant and moving.

But she only felt tired—not physically tired, but a kind of empty, weary feeling in her heart.

"Travel in the River."

Su Yurou suddenly spoke, her voice not loud, yet it caused the piano music to pause for another beat.

"Huahua worked hard at the research station today, so please don't bother her anymore."

These words were spoken gently, and both Fu Youchuan and Fu Chaochao were stunned.

Su Yurou rarely interrupted Fu Youchuan so directly—

It's even less likely that they would clearly side with Fu Hua.

Fu Hua also looked up at her mother.

Under the lamplight, Su Yurou's expression looked somewhat unnatural.

He seemed surprised to say those words, but his fingers remained clenched around the hem of his clothes, showing no intention of retracting them.

"Huahua,"

Fu Chaochao quickly regained her smile, her voice soft, "I have a performance tomorrow, would you like to come? It's at the city theater, I can save you a good seat."

"I've made plans to go hiking with friends tomorrow."

Fu Hua said.

What's the point of hiking?

Fu Youchuan scoffed, "Do you know how many people would kill to get tickets to tomorrow's performance? Chaochao is giving you a chance, and you're acting all high and mighty."

"Travel in the River."

Su Yurou interrupted him again, this time with a stronger voice, "Huahua has her own plans. Chaochao, focus on practicing the piano."

Fu Chaochao's smile froze on her face.

Why won't Mom let Fu Hua go to her performance?

What is she afraid of?

She glanced at Su Yurou, then at Fu Hua, her fingertips trembling slightly on the piano keys.

Fu Hua didn't look at them again and turned to go upstairs.

The wooden staircase creaked softly, like a weary sigh.

Behind me, the sound of a piano began again.

This time, I played the third movement of "Moonlight Sonata".

It was urgent and intense, as if some unspeakable emotion was being pounded into the piano keys.

Fu Hua returned to her room, walked to her desk, and turned on the desk lamp.

The warm yellow light from the CD player diffused the moonlight, illuminating the stack of papers Professor Yan had given him.

The homepage is in English and discusses the propagation characteristics of high-frequency electromagnetic waves in the ionosphere—an old paper from 1957.

But the mathematical derivations within it are still as beautiful as a poem.

She sat down, took a pencil from the pen holder, and began to do calculations.

The pen tip glides across the paper, making a soft, rustling sound, like a silkworm eating leaves, or a gentle rain nourishing the soil.

The piano music downstairs continued.

Fu Chaochao was practicing the song "Moonlight" over and over again, as if she were competing with someone.

Fu Hua paused for a moment.

She recalled the last days of her mentor from her previous life.

In the hospital bed, the painkillers had lost their effectiveness.

The elderly man was suffering terribly from cancer and was emaciated.

She sat by her mentor's bedside peeling an apple while listening to Mahler's "Das Lied von der Erde" (The Song of the Earth).

The music was beautiful, so beautiful it made me want to cry.

But it cannot stop the pain, nor can it delay death.

At that time, she was thinking: what if humanity's understanding of life could be a little deeper?

What if medicine could advance even further?

If those who have to give up their dreams because of terminal illnesses had a little more time, would they have a little more time?

These "ifs" carry more weight than any sonata.

The pen tip continued to glide.

Fu Hua drew a simple diagram on the draft paper—

Regarding the relationship between electromagnetic wave frequency and penetrating power.

She lowered her head, her expression focused.

The lines on the paper were clean and crisp, as precise as when she drew musical staves in her previous life.

Music is her way of relaxing.

After spending three days and three nights in the lab

Playing a piece of Bach relaxes my nerves.

When I get stuck on a paper, I play a piece by Debussy, and my train of thought comes back to me.

That's a delicate balance between reason and emotion.

That's how she stays sober.

In this life, she still wants to use science to change the world.

Music, Science

There is no superiority or inferiority between the two.

It's just a different choice.

Just like stringed instruments, the strings of a violin can produce the poignant beauty of "The Butterfly Lovers."

String theory in physics attempts to explain the essence of the universe—that it is all vibration.

They are all waves, all explorations of the essence of the world.

At the same time, the Xie family's small building was brightly lit.

Xie Ci pushed open the door to his home, where his father was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper.

Hearing the voice, he looked up: "Why so late? Is something wrong with the armed forces department?"

"no."

Xie Ci took off his coat and hung it in the entryway, then changed into slippers. "I ran into an interesting little guy, and we had a meal together."