My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player-Chapter 88: In This Moment, Art is Born

Chapter 88: In This Moment, Art is Born
"Next, we have the honor of inviting tonight's youngest performer—the renowned cellist, Ms. Gan Yanyu, to take the stage."
"Tonight, alongside her partner Mr. Lin Tian, they will present three works: Greeting of Love, Can-Can Dance, and Symphony No. 8 in G Minor 'Pathétique'. These pieces are masterpieces that showcase both the depth and technical brilliance of the cello and piano."
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause for Ms. Gan Yanyu!"
...
Gan Yanyu glanced at Lin Tian. Her lips trembled slightly before curling into a faint, bittersweet smile.
"Lin Tian, you're really insane."
"You know me, Miss Gan. If I were sane, we wouldn't even be partners in the first place," he replied with an unbothered shrug.
"Is it worth it?"
"Mr. Gao taught us—to truly resonate, one must experience it fully."
Gan Yanyu pressed her lips together tightly, hesitating for just a moment longer.
"Let's go."
"Hold on."
She stopped him mid-step, then stood on tiptoe to smooth out his disheveled hair. She patted down his suit jacket gently, ensuring every detail was perfect.
"There. All set."
"Let's do this, partner."
The spotlight of the audience's collective gaze fell upon the darkened stage. Slowly, soft lights began to rise, casting a warm glow over the music stands at center stage, cocooning them in a halo of golden radiance.
Click. Click.
The sound of high heels tapping lightly against the wooden floor echoed through the stillness.
A figure emerged—a young woman clad in a sleek black gown that flowed like midnight itself. With graceful steps, she glided onto the stage.
"Gan Yanyu! Gan Yanyu!"
A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd almost instantly.
"She's here! Wow… after two years, she's still as stunning as ever!"
"No wonder she's crowned the most beautiful cellist by the media. She looks even better in person than in photos."
"Hey, wait—is that handsome guy accompanying her the pianist?"
Following closely behind Gan Yanyu, Lin Tian adjusted his tie nervously as he stepped onto the stage.
"Is he okay? He looks pale..."
Several audience members seated near the front noticed something off about the pianist under the bright lights. Concerned whispers began to circulate:
"Doesn't he look a little unsteady on his feet?"
"In this condition, can he really play?"
"I swear, it feels like he might collapse right there on stage any second now."
Amidst the murmurs, Gan Yanyu settled herself elegantly onto the chair at the center of the stage, leaning her head gently against the body of her cello. Lin Tian took his seat at the grand piano, adjusting his posture carefully. After testing their instruments briefly, they exchanged a glance.
Taking a deep breath—
The performance began.
The first piece was Greeting of Love.
As the first piece composed by Lin Tian for Gan Yanyu, its melody was beautiful—slow and deeply emotional.
In terms of technical difficulty, it wasn't particularly challenging. What mattered most was the expression of emotion.
The audience fell into an awed silence.
Everyone was immersed, listening intently. Many who had heard snippets of this piece on TikTok were now experiencing it live for the first time as a cello-piano duet—and they could feel just how much more impactful the live version truly was.
The first piece came to an end.
Gan Yanyu turned her head slightly, casting a worried glance at Lin Tian. The young man's eyes were half-closed, his expression distant, almost dreamlike. But despite that, he managed to flash her a confident smile.
The second piece began: Can-Can Dance.
A lively tune with a dancing rhythm filled the grand concert hall. This piece demanded precise emotional delivery; the performers had to fully immerse themselves in its vibrant atmosphere—especially in a live setting like this.
"It's… alright, I guess."
"Not as impressive as I expected. Honestly, looking at that pianist makes me want to fall asleep too."
"At least they didn't ruin the original," someone whispered dismissively.
Voices murmured throughout the crowd. On stage, both musicians seemed to lack energy, which naturally affected the mood of those watching below.
When Can-Can Dance finally concluded, Lin Tian was visibly struggling. He stared down at his hands, then at the piano before him. The keys blurred together in his vision, doubling and wavering. His head felt unbearably heavy, as if gravity itself had conspired against him.
This sensation wasn't new—it had happened before—but tonight, on this very stage, it reached its tipping point.
Yes. This was exactly what he needed.
"Hey, do you think that accompanist is about to collapse?"
Some members of the audience couldn't help but start whispering among themselves.
"Look at him swaying back and forth—he looks like he might faceplant into the piano any second."
"During those last two pieces, I thought he was going to nod off, but somehow his fingers kept moving anyway."
"Do you think he can even make it through the final piece?"
Meanwhile, backstage, Gao Zhenyang watched the scene unfold with furrowed brows.
What on earth is going on with these two?
Though the first two pieces had been completed without major mishaps, in Gao Zhenyang's eyes, their performance barely scraped by as passable. In fact, it didn't hold a candle to their rehearsal at the conservatory just weeks earlier.
Their emotions weren't aligned—not even close.
One looked drowsy, practically sleepwalking through the motions. The other appeared utterly detached, lost somewhere deep within her own thoughts.
What are they doing? What's gotten into them?
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
This was Gan Yanyu's heartbeat.
Her gaze lingered on Lin Tian, who sat mere meters away yet seemed worlds apart, stretched across half the stage between them.
Their proximity on stage was both physically close and emotionally distant—a paradox that gnawed at Gan Yanyu's heart.
Lin Tian, the boy who always approached life with such earnestness yet reckless abandon, now sat mere feet away from her but felt worlds apart. In this moment, Gan Yanyu had countless words she wanted to say to him—words of gratitude, concern, frustration, and admiration.
But between musicians on a stage, there are no spoken languages. The only way to communicate is through the music itself.
All those unspoken emotions would have to be poured into their final piece: Symphony in G Minor: "Pathétique."
The last composition began.
Gan Yanyu drew her bow across the strings, unleashing a surge of passion and tension that cascaded down like an emotional waterfall.
Before her, the blinding lights made it hard for the young woman to keep her eyes fully open. Below, hundreds of pairs of expectant gazes burned into them. But in Gan Yanyu's mind, there was only one figure—Lin Tian. She worried about his state, feared for his well-being, and silently questioned why he pushed himself so far beyond his limits.
Why? Why go to such extremes?
She could face her own fate alone, burdened by the weight of her chronic asthma and depression. But watching Lin Tian reach out to pull her back from the brink while risking his own collapse left her torn. Was this part of your plan too, Lin Tian? Did you foresee how much of yourself you'd sacrifice?
The cello grew faster, more urgent. Lin Tian's fingers danced across the piano keys with frenetic precision, reaching their peak. His eyes were half-closed, his vision blurred, his heartbeat thundering against his chest as if it might burst free at any moment. Yet, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Yes, he thought. I can't directly help Gan Yanyu conquer the stage—not when her body and mind wage war within her. But perhaps... perhaps I can meet her halfway in this shared pain. If I can't bridge the gap between us through words or genius alone, then I'll do it my way.
After two sleepless days of relentless practice, Lin Tian's mental fortitude had reached its breaking point. Every blink felt like lifting mountains; every glance at the audience sent his pulse racing uncontrollably. His chest tightened painfully, each breath shallow and labored. And yet…
It felt exhilarating.
In this moment, the collision of physical exhaustion and heightened adrenaline created something explosive. Lin Tian's piano playing reached its zenith.
"Whoa… Something's off," murmured someone in the audience.
"Did the style just change?"
"Didn't that guy look half-dead earlier? What happened? Did he suddenly chug five energy drinks?"
"Is this some kind of death rattle performance?"
"Holy crap, I've got goosebumps."
The audience was electrified. Just moments ago, they'd been lulled into near-slumber by the lethargic atmosphere. Now, with a single shift in tempo, the music became nothing short of seismic—a bolt of lightning splitting a calm midnight sky.
The frantic interplay between the cello and piano mirrored the trials these two young souls had endured over the past fortnight. Faster, louder, more intense—their instruments seemed to scream their story without restraint.
Every member of the audience stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Their hearts thudded wildly, gripped tightly by an invisible hand pulling them deeper into the whirlpool of emotion. It was as though the entire concert hall had shrunk to contain only two people: a cellist and a pianist.
Each listener, regardless of their seat, found themselves transported. Through the music, they connected directly with the raw, untamed spirits of the performers.
"Teacher, what kind of monsters did you bring me?" Gao Zhenyang muttered under his breath, clutching his chest as he watched the spectacle unfold. His eyes widened, his jaw slackened. The pressure building inside him—an ache he'd suppressed for so long—threatened to explode, taking his heart along with it.
What was happening before him transcended mere performance. This was art. Pure, unadulterated art. The stage, the audience, even himself standing backstage—all were integral parts of the masterpiece being woven together.
Had he unwittingly stepped into their world?
As the music crescendoed, Lin Tian's vision blurred until everything dissolved into a haze. Still, he forced his eyelids to stay open. He knew that if he closed them, even for a second, he'd collapse entirely, succumbing to unconsciousness right there on the stage.
Not yet. Not yet.
He repeated the mantra in his head. He couldn't afford to falter now. Everything depended on finishing this final movement. One last push, and it would all be worth it.
But his consciousness was slipping. His hands slowed, his strength waning. His body had reached its absolute limit. His eyelids drooped heavily, threatening to shut forever.
Ping—
"Stamina Restoration Capsule activated."
Lin Tian's eyes snapped open. His fingers flew over the keys once more, imbuing the piano with a newfound vigor.
"Beautiful…" Gao Zhenyang whispered, raising a clenched fist in awe.
Almost instantly, Gan Yanyu responded, pouring every ounce of her remaining strength into the cello. Together, they unleashed a torrent of sound that left the audience breathless.
At this pinnacle of intensity, even the deafening roar of the instruments couldn't drown out the pounding of the listeners' own hearts. Anxiety and excitement intertwined, gripping everyone in its thrall. It was as though each person held an instrument in their hands—violin or piano—and played along unconsciously, swept up in the euphoria.
This… was true music.
Beethoven's Symphony No. 40 reached its conclusion on this ordinary yet extraordinary stage.
A profound silence enveloped the concert hall. Gan Yanyu gasped for air, sweat dripping down her cheeks. Beside her, Lin Tian remained motionless, seated at the piano. For five long seconds, the room was so quiet you could hear the collective heartbeat of humanity.
Then—
Clap-clap-clap-clap—
Thunderous applause erupted, shaking the very foundations of the venue. Audience members leapt to their feet, clapping furiously. Cheers rang out, some shouting hoarsely, others shedding tears.
Thus, art was born.
On the sidelines, ers and journalists scrambled to their feet, rushing toward the exits like a stampede. News, big news—it was a frenzy. Everyone wanted to file their s first, desperate to capture the magnitude of what they'd witnessed. The previously serene space descended into chaos as media personnel jostled and shoved.
Yet, none of this mattered on stage. There, amidst the cacophony, reigned a serene world unto itself.
Gan Yanyu rose slowly, turning to face Lin Tian. The boy stifled a yawn, rising awkwardly to meet her gaze. They exchanged a small, knowing smile.
"How are you holding up?" Gan Yanyu asked softly.
"I'll manage," Lin Tian replied, scratching his head. "Probably make it home before passing out."
"You seem oddly energetic," she teased, tilting her head. "I panicked during the finale when your notes slowed—I thought you were about to collapse."
He chuckled weakly. "Well, let's just say I've got backup systems." (Thanks, purple crystal.)
"And you?" he asked. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay… for now. You know how it is. Sometimes it hits unexpectedly, sometimes not at all. I might feel fine now, but who knows later."
"Take your meds when we get back," he reminded her gently.
She nodded. Silence fell between them, awkward yet warm. Despite the flood of emotions they'd shared through the music, words escaped them now.
"It's time to go," Lin Tian said finally.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Gan Yanyu asked hesitantly after a pause.
"Aren't we done with this question already?"
"Well, think about it—you haven't slept in two days, plus the performance tonight. I rested briefly earlier, but you didn't. Are you really okay?"
Her concern was palpable. She knew exactly what Lin Tian had sacrificed for her sake. Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders.
To her surprise, however, he looked surprisingly energetic. Too energetic.
"You're not… experiencing some kind of rebound effect, are you?" she blurted, eyes widening.
"I'm fine!" he protested, laughing despite his sweat-drenched brow. "Stop cursing me!"
"If you're too tired to walk…" Gan Yanyu turned gracefully, her elegant black gown swirling around her ankles. "…I can help you."
Facing away from him, she extended a hand behind her back, her face flushed as she glanced shyly over her shoulder. Her fingers beckoned playfully.
Lin Tian froze, stunned. Then, chuckling nervously, he took a step forward. Her hand met his arm, steadying him as she guided him gently forward.
"Let's go," she said with a radiant smile.
As they walked, Lin Tian gazed at her profile, lost in thought.
Could it be… Could it be that I actually… like her?