A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

Paris, Charles de Gaulle International Airport.

The automatic glass doors at the exit slid open to both sides. Lin Yan, with his left hand in his pocket and dragging a huge silver suitcase with his right, yawned twice.

Shen Qingqiu walked beside him, wearing large black-rimmed sunglasses on his nose, holding two cups of hot coffee he had just bought, exuding a cool and aloof aura.

"Time difference is such an anti-human thing." Lin Yan took the coffee, took a sip, and frowned slightly. "The beans were roasted too dark, and the water temperature was too high."

"Who played a single-player game for ten hours on the plane?" Shen Qingqiu chuckled and reached out to straighten the flattened hoodie hoodie.

"Got it?" Lin Yan casually tossed the empty paper cup into a roadside trash can. "Going straight to the hotel now? I'm requesting twelve hours of sleep."

"The shuttle is outside, but there's no bed for you to sleep in right now." Shen Qingqiu swiped open her phone screen.

"I booked a Michelin three-star outdoor table on the Seine. Now I'm going there just in time for the dinner. What happened to our honeymoon where you let me plan everything?"

Lin Yan paused, looking at Shen Qingqiu's expectant gaze through his sunglasses, and sighed resignedly.

"Alright, if the boss lady says so, we'll go through fire and water."

Half an hour later, the black Mercedes-Benz sedan came to a steady stop on the cobblestone side of the right bank of the Seine.

The outdoor dining area of ​​the "Silver Tower Restaurant" is covered with pure white tablecloths, and vintage brass windproof candles flicker with warm light. In the distance, the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower has long since blended into the night, its neon lights gleaming brightly.

The waiter pulled out a high-backed wooden chair, and the two sat down facing each other.

Lin Yan opened the all-French menu and, without using any translation software, skillfully ordered two servings of the signature blood duck, snails as an appetizer, and a bottle of dry red wine. His standard Parisian accent made the waiter glance at him a couple more times before bowing respectfully and leaving.

The meal was served quickly. Lin Yan cut off a small piece of duck meat and put it in his mouth. After chewing it only twice, he gave it an extremely critical review.

"The meat was overcooked and became tough. The red wine in the sauce wasn't reduced enough, and the acidity couldn't mask the fishy smell."

Shen Qingqiu picked up his wine glass, took a sip of red wine, and chuckled, "You, a chef, come out to eat just to cause trouble. Stop nitpicking and focus on enjoying the scenery."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a melodious violin tune drifted from the next table.

He was a blond young white man in a sharp tuxedo, the restaurant's resident pianist.

He had just finished playing a Mozart serenade for a table of Westerners, and after receiving a tip, he gracefully bowed in acknowledgment.

Shen Qingqiu looked in the direction of the sound, tapped her fingertips lightly on the tablecloth twice, and looked at Lin Yan: "I suddenly feel like listening to music."

Lin Yan didn't say anything, but casually snapped his fingers.

The blond youth turned around, and when his gaze swept over the two Asian faces, the smile on his lips instantly faded, and he even subconsciously straightened his back, adopting a condescending posture, and slowly walked over.

"Sir, madam. What kind of music would you like?" He spoke in heavily accented English, his tone stiff.

Shen Qingqiu took out a one-hundred-euro banknote from her handbag and gently pressed it on the corner of the table.

"Mendelssohn Concerto in E minor, second movement," she replied in fluent London English.

The blond youth glanced at the banknote but didn't move. Instead, he casually hung his violin by his side and curled a mocking smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Madam, this is a piece that requires a high level of classical music knowledge to appreciate, containing the essence of Western culture over several centuries." He shrugged, his tone casual.

"Many Asian tourists don't understand the soul of the music at all; you just request the songs to shoot a video and post it on social media."

At this point, he even chuckled lightly: "I suggest you listen to some simple pop tunes. I just saw on the news that your Chinese singers had to use synthesizers to lip-sync at the opening ceremony. Classical music is too complicated, lest it insult this two-hundred-year-old handmade violin in my hand."

The smile on Shen Qingqiu's lips instantly froze. She leaned back in her chair, her voice chilling to the bone.

"Are you teaching me how to listen to music?"

Lin Yan was cutting the last piece of duck meat on the plate. Upon hearing these words, the knife in his hand hovered in mid-air.

"when."

The knife and fork were placed horizontally on the white porcelain plate, making a soft click.

Lin Yan pushed the plate aside and slowly picked up a napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth.

"They can't even let us have a peaceful honeymoon," he muttered under his breath.

Then, Lin Yan stood up and walked directly in front of the blond youth. His height of 1.85 meters and broad shoulders gave him an imposing presence as he looked down at the other man.

"Give me the zither." Lin Yan extended his right hand.

The blond youth, intimidated by this imposing aura, took a half-step back, his face showing wariness: "What do you want? This is high-end..."

Lin Yan was too lazy to listen to his nonsense. He suddenly reached out with his left hand, pinched the young man's wrist precisely with two fingers, and pressed his thumb on the nerve with perfect accuracy.

The young man let out a short cry of pain, his fingers involuntarily clenching open.

Lin Yan smoothly pulled the violin and bow off the violin.

Without tuning or testing the strings, Lin Yan simply rested the violin on his left shoulder, gripped the bow with his right hand, and pressed his wrist down sharply as if it were spring-loaded.

"Sizzle!"

The extremely sharp, rapid sound of the bowstring ripping apart shattered the tranquility of the restaurant like tearing silk.

Lin Yan's left hand moved rapidly across the fingerboard, each rise and fall precisely hitting the extreme pitch.

The bow rubbed and vibrated wildly on the strings, and extremely dense notes gushed out like machine gun fire!

Paganini's Capriccio No. 24.

This devilish piece, known as the "touchstone of violin playing," is filled with unconventional technical movements such as extremely fast left-hand plucking, double stops spanning ten degrees, and highly difficult staccato bowing.

Despite this ferocious technical output, Lin Yan's face remained completely calm, and there was even a lingering languor in his eyes, as if he hadn't woken up yet.

The music was passionate and sharp, carrying an overwhelming momentum, piercing through the night sky along the Seine without any hindrance.

The blond youth's mouth gaped wider and wider, as if he had seen a ghost. His gaze was fixed on the perfect double overtone that Lin Yan had just completed with his left little finger, and cold sweat poured down his back.

The foreign diners at the surrounding tables were all stunned by the incredible performance.

The steak knife and fork froze in mid-air, the wine glass held to their lips was forgotten, and everyone remained motionless.

Two minutes later.

Lin Yan drew a powerful arc in the air with his right hand and neatly retracted the bow.

A perfect pause; the entire open-air restaurant fell into a deathly silence.

Lin Yan casually shoved the violin back into the arms of the blond youth who was still in a daze.

"The zither is barely passable, but you've made it too rough." Lin Yan dusted off his sleeves, his tone as indifferent as if he were commenting on a small dish.

"With your basic skills at such a pretzel level, you're only fit to play pop tunes. Go back and practice your broken bow technique again, don't embarrass yourself here."

After saying that, Lin Yan turned around and walked back to the dining table, picking up his coat from the back of the chair.

"I'm full, let's go, boss lady." Lin Yan raised an eyebrow at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu looked at him, and finally couldn't help but smile proudly. She got up and took his arm.

Just as the two turned to leave.

In the most secluded corner of the restaurant, an elderly French man with a full head of white hair and an exaggerated beard suddenly stood up.

Because he stood up too suddenly, his elbow knocked over a wine glass on the table.

The crimson wine was spilled onto the pristine white tablecloth, but the old man was completely unaware.

He trembled slightly, his eyes wide open as if he had seen God descend, staring intently at Lin Yan's departing figure.