Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C103

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Chapter 103: A Fiery Tune That Hardens the Fist

"Listen carefully—when you see your grandfather, don’t say anything reckless. Don’t provoke him, understand?"

In the hallway of Qingjiang City’s Third Psychiatric Hospital, a man walked hand-in-hand with his teenage son, Wu Cheng, speaking earnestly.

"I got it," Wu Cheng nodded.

"...”

His grandfather, Wu Youwei, was a retired boxer from the last century. Thirty years ago, he had fought an underground match that lasted until dawn, emerging victorious. But while he managed to knock out his opponent, the battle left him severely traumatized. Ever since, Wu Youwei suffered from intense paranoia—he would hide under the bed at the sound of firecrackers, scream and cover his ears during violent scenes on TV, and constantly fear for his life, convinced someone was out to kill him.

Wu Cheng’s mother, Wu Youwei’s daughter-in-law, was a volatile woman who couldn’t tolerate her father-in-law’s condition. She often resorted to violence against him. Wu Cheng’s father, weak and powerless, did nothing to stop her. Eventually, they decided to send Wu Youwei to live in the psychiatric hospital—a decision that marked the beginning of many lonely years for the old man.

"...”

Knock knock knock.

The door opened to reveal an elderly figure sitting alone on his bed, watching television.

"Grandpa."

Wu Cheng stepped forward, holding a bag of fruit.

"Oh~ You’re here."

A warm smile spread across the old man’s face as he reached out his wrinkled hand toward Wu Cheng. The boy placed his own hand gently into his grandfather’s, and the two began chatting casually about everyday life. For a moment, the room filled with warmth and familial affection.

Meanwhile, the father stood off to the side, his expression uneasy.

"Dad," he said softly, "I’ve got some errands to run. Let Wu Cheng keep you company."

Wu Youwei didn’t respond or even glance at the man.

"...”

After the father left, Wu Cheng opened his backpack and pulled out a large black box, presenting it like a magician revealing a trick.

"Where did you get that radio?" Wu Youwei’s eyes lit up instantly.

"I know how much you used to love lying in bed listening to the radio instead of watching TV, so I brought this for you," Wu Cheng grinned.

"Good, good, good!"

Delighted, Wu Youwei urged him, "Hurry, set it up for me!"

"Okay!"

Wu Cheng immediately began tuning the radio. As static crackled through the speakers, a voice soon emerged:

"That August, the Battle of Stalingrad began, marking the turning point of World War II..."

"Both sides suffered over five million casualties in seven months of brutal street fighting—it was hell on earth..."

Almost as soon as the deep, somber voice began narrating, Wu Youwei froze. His pupils dilated, and his face turned ghostly pale.

Slap!

He clamped his hands over his ears and slammed the radio shut.

"Grandpa!"

Startled, Wu Cheng quickly switched channels. This sudden episode wasn’t unusual; Wu Cheng had grown accustomed to his grandfather’s unpredictable reactions.

It all traced back to that fateful underground boxing match decades ago. Struggling financially, Wu Youwei accepted what was essentially a deathmatch—neither fighter could quit until one collapsed. That fight dragged on for eight grueling hours, from midnight to dawn. Though Wu Youwei emerged victorious, something inside him shattered.

When he staggered off the stage, bloodied and alone, he was no longer the same man. From then on, he claimed to hear demonic voices whispering to him. Perhaps the earlier broadcast had triggered those haunting memories once again.

As Wu Cheng comforted his shaken grandfather, he continued flipping through stations until another voice came through.

"Hello everyone, this is Qingzhou Music Voice."

"Today, we’re featuring a new track by Moonlight and Cat, whose popularity skyrocketed after Gan Yanyu’s performance last week at Qingtian Hall. The piece is titled The Spanish Bullfighting Suite, inspired, according to fans, by Spain’s ancient tradition of bullfighting. Let’s enjoy it together."

As the host’s words faded, the music began—a rapid percussion beat accompanied by cascading piano notes. The melody surged with passion and energy, captivating even Wu Cheng, who rarely listened to classical music. And when the cello joined in, its deep, resonant tones elevated the experience to another level entirely.

This music... it was intoxicating.

Caught up in the rhythm, Wu Cheng felt transported—as if he were standing alone in an arena, facing down a raging bull. Something within him ignited, burning fiercely.

"...”

Coming back to reality, Wu Cheng suddenly thought:

I’m just a high school student, inexperienced and naive, yet this music moves me so deeply. Then what must my grandfather be feeling right now?

The elderly former boxer lay curled up on the bed, still trembling—but there was a difference this time. The music seeped into his soul, piercing straight through decades of trauma.

What did he see?

Was it the dimly lit underground ring, the greedy spectators, the blood and brains spilling from his opponent’s skull?

No... not this time.

For thirty years, those images haunted him relentlessly. But now, something else stirred within—the pride of being a boxer, the overwhelming satisfaction of delivering the knockout punch. All these emotions flooded back into his body.

Slowly, Wu Youwei raised his hand as though reaching for something. He sat up in bed, realization dawning in his eyes.

He remembered everything.

On that ring, he had thrown his final punch, smashing it into his opponent’s head, ending the nightmare of that fight. It was his moment of glory.

"...”

As the music reached its climax—a fiery blend of percussion, passionate piano, and solemn cello—the symphony transported Wu Youwei back to the days of his youth. Back to the night he won the championship. Back to his early twenties, standing triumphantly on the ring, basking in applause and admiration.

He understood now.

That match—it was his victory.

He was the fearless champion, the strongest boxer. Even if the foreign fighter he’d knocked out returned as a vengeful spirit, he would defeat him again.

Demons?

"Come once, die once. Come a thousand times, die a thousand times."

Die, die, die, die, die...

"...”

When Wu Cheng turned around, he was stunned to find his frail, bedridden grandfather standing tall, having overcome years of leg weakness. His eyes burned with an intensity Wu Cheng had never seen before—a fierce determination born only from surviving the harshest trials.

Wu Youwei stepped off the bed, picked up the radio still playing The Spanish Bullfighting Suite, and turned to his grandson.

"Let’s go home."

Wu Cheng hesitated, unease creeping over him. Was his grandfather truly cured—or had his madness taken a darker turn?

"...”

Glory had conquered fear, transforming it into unyielding willpower. At that moment, one thought consumed Wu Youwei’s mind:

To break free from his inner demons, he must continue fighting.

If women proved disloyal, he would channel his rage into powerful punches.

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