Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C67

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Chapter 67: The Artist of Ultimate Sorrow

To understand the reason behind this situation, one must delve into the emotional essence of Mozart's composition.

First, the entire symphony is rooted in G minor—a key that inherently carries a profound sense of melancholy and shadow. Originally, the piece was scored for an ensemble of instruments, but Lin Tian had reimagined it as a duet between the cello and piano. This transformation amplified the somber tones, with the cello adding its own rich depth to the music’s mournful hue.

Moreover, Lin Tian had only transcribed the first movement of the piece. And what a movement it was—charged with agitation and tension. The opening section bristled with an overwhelming sense of urgency and opposition, exuding a relentless undercurrent of anxiety and unease. However, later passages introduced alternating bursts of fiery intensity and tender lyricism, softening the conflict and inviting moments of introspection. This duality is why the piece is often described as Mozart's "tears through a smile."

What Gan Yanyu had just played was merely the beginning—a fragment of the storm. She hadn’t even made it halfway before she collapsed under the weight of the music.

It wasn’t hard to see why. Gan Yanyu, a perfectionist by nature, coupled with her struggles with mental illness and severe asthma, found herself caught in a perfect storm of torment while attempting to perform this emotionally demanding piece.

"..."

"Take a break," Lin Tian said gently, removing the cello from beside her. He wanted her to step away from the music for a moment, to catch her breath and calm herself.

"Mm-hmm."

Gan Yanyu curled up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her like a startled rabbit seeking refuge. She looked fragile, shaken—not just physically, but emotionally. It seemed the strain had taken more out of her than either of them had anticipated.

Lin Tian decided to shift gears. He turned his attention to the package delivered earlier by Lucky Music Shop.

"The advertisers mentioned they want us to promote their 'Tiger Stripe Handcrafted Cello,' model YS07," he explained. "It’s an entry-level instrument priced at 16,888 yuan."

As he spoke, Lin Tian couldn’t help but marvel at the cost. Entry-level cellos could be purchased online for a fraction of that price—just a couple thousand yuan. But then again, this wasn’t some small-time operation; this was a prestigious chain with stores across the country. That they’d approached him and Gan Yanyu for the promotion spoke volumes about their discerning eye.

Lin Tian carefully opened the well-packaged box and retrieved the cello case. "Want to give it a try?" he asked, handing it over to Gan Yanyu.

The young woman unfolded herself from the couch, took the case, and delicately removed the gleaming new cello. Holding it in her hands, she traced its curves as if cradling a child.

"It feels substantial," she murmured, running her fingers along the tiger-striped finish. "The wood grain is stunning—so smooth and glossy."

She picked up the bow and began to play, testing it with a rendition of Greeting of Love. After a few bars, she paused, her brows furrowing slightly.

"It’s decent enough, but..." Her voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"The price is a bit steep," Gan Yanyu admitted. "If it’s meant for beginners, there’s no real need for such high-quality materials. People serious about learning wouldn’t start off buying something so expensive, right?"

Lin Tian nodded thoughtfully. The shop likely aimed to target affluent customers willing to splurge on premium instruments—perhaps middle-class families eager to introduce their children to classical music. Gan Yanyu, however, viewed things differently. She always empathized with ordinary people genuinely passionate about picking up an instrument, knowing full well how intimidating those initial costs could feel.

In truth, thanks to Gan Yanyu’s recent rise to fame online, interest in the cello might actually surge. Just as Master Zhan had single-handedly revitalized the game of Go—not only boosting its popularity but also drawing countless newcomers into the fold—Gan Yanyu’s influence could do the same for her beloved instrument.

But the shop’s marketing strategy wasn’t their concern. All Lin Tian could offer was a discount or two for his audience members who purchased through “Moonlight and Cat.” Unlike other influencers who colluded with brands to deceive consumers, Lin Tian intended to negotiate genuine savings for his viewers.

Still, hearing himself say these words made him chuckle inwardly. Every livestreamer claimed the same thing these days.

“Alright,” Gan Yanyu finally conceded with a nod. Expensive though it may be, the craftsmanship was undeniable. For wealthy buyers, the quality justified the cost. As for everything else, they could revisit those discussions after this collaboration ran its course.

“Got it,” Lin Tian replied, glancing at his phone. “Lucky Music Shop offered us a CPM rate of three yuan per thousand views.”

For context, their previous video featuring Can-Can had garnered tens of millions of views. But that was a viral sensation, sparking trends across half of Tiktok. A typical video earning a million views would already be considered a success. If someone were to choreograph a provocative dance routine to Mozart’s Symphony No. 40, Lin Tian doubted he’d object—but Gan Yanyu? She’d lose her mind.

At three yuan CPM, the ad rate was remarkably low compared to promotions for secondhand goods, mobile games, or prepaid data plans. Then again, this was a soft advertisement. Lin Tian wouldn’t have to recite scripted lines or post links in the comments. All he needed to do was pin a comment crediting Lucky Music Shop for providing the instruments and use their cello in the performance.

While the payout would be modest, Lin Tian prioritized maintaining the simplicity and integrity of their videos. This decision had been reached after careful discussion with Gan Yanyu. Besides, Lin Tian still had his double-income card to fall back on, ensuring that their earnings wouldn’t suffer too much.

Once Gan Yanyu seemed sufficiently rested, Lin Tian set his phone aside and turned to her.

“Do you want to try again?”

Her earlier breakdown lingered vividly in his mind, and he couldn’t shake his concern. They didn’t have to tackle this particular piece. Lin Tian could compose something lighter, more playful, and they could film another lighthearted session like last time. Perhaps that would yield better results.

“Yes,” Gan Yanyu replied firmly, rising to her feet despite the lingering echoes of anguish in her ears.

No matter how painful it was, she refused to abandon such a beautiful composition.

“Alright,” Lin Tian said, knowing his advice would go unheeded yet offering it anyway. “If it gets too much, stop and take a breather.”

With that, they resumed their positions, setting up the camera once more. Lin Tian took a deep breath, glanced at Gan Yanyu, and let the music flow.

---

The room filled with the urgent, feverish strains of the symphony. Piano and cello clashed in a fierce battle of sound, each note brimming with raw emotion. Gan Yanyu closed her eyes, lost in the torrent of music. Yet even amidst the crescendo, she couldn’t drown out the pounding of her own heart.

Thump.

A haunting cry echoed in her mind, pulling her back to the image of a tormented artist—weeping, fists slamming against a table in despair. Faster and faster the music surged, until Gan Yanyu’s bow moved almost of its own accord, unstoppable in its fervor.

Beside her, Lin Tian watched in astonishment. His piano struggled to keep pace with Gan Yanyu’s wild, untamed cello. It was as if the instrument had become a runaway horse, galloping freely alongside Mozart’s masterpiece, while Lin Tian fell further behind, unable to match the depth of her connection to the music.

Turning toward her, Lin Tian froze. Gan Yanyu’s body trembled uncontrollably—her shoulders shaking, her face contorted with anguish. She was no longer playing the music; she was the music, consumed entirely by its sorrow.

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