Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C142

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Chapter 142:

The first exam subject was — sight-reading.

This part tested a candidate’s ability to read sheet music on the spot, their control over pitch, rhythm, and tempo, as well as their musical expression.

The process was straightforward: students entered the examination room in sequence, drew a random piece of sheet music, prepared briefly, and then performed it live.

Compared to the instrument performance section, where students could prepare for months, sight-reading required quick thinking and adaptability under pressure. It was often the most nerve-wracking part of the entire exam.

As stepped toward the examination hall, he had no idea that just moments before, something shocking had happened.

Right now, all the waiting candidates were filled with a sense of despair.

They sat in silence, each one feeling like they were being pierced by invisible needles, time dragging unbearably.

One after another, students emerged from the rooms, their expressions defeated. Some were top performers from training centers, yet even they looked shaken.

Each sigh and muttered curse sent waves of panic through the rest of the waiting crowd.

"Hey, how was it? Was the question really hard?"

A student who had just finished his exam was immediately surrounded by anxious friends.

He sighed heavily and groaned, "I don’t know what I got, but whatever it was—it wasn’t human. That piece was completely incomprehensible."

"What do you mean?"

"It’s way beyond anything we’ve ever practiced," he said, eyes wide. "Is this the level of difficulty for this year’s exam?!"

His friend stared at him, dumbfounded.

Sight-reading questions were always unpredictable, but they weren’t supposed to be impossible. If this was truly the case... had the format changed this year?

"You’ll see when you get in there," the student said with a grim smile before turning away, muttering under his breath, "One piece destroyed my university dreams."

The worst-case scenario had arrived.

Panic spread like wildfire among the remaining candidates.

"What the hell is going on? This isn't what we trained for!"

"How hard was the question bank this year?!"

"What kind of nonsense is this? Does anyone even know what's happening?!"

If only one person had complained, it might have been dismissed as bad luck. But with multiple reports coming in, the situation escalated fast.

In and , students began to flood the message boards with frustration and fear. Those who had already taken the exam were venting their anger. Those still waiting were sweating bullets.

It was widely whispered that this year’s sight-reading test was far beyond the capability of any regular art student.

Then came the final blow — a video surfaced online of a student running out of the exam room in tears.

Emotions hit rock bottom.

And in the midst of the chaos, the boy who had drawn so much attention earlier stood up and walked toward the classroom.

Everyone turned to watch.

"Whoa, here comes the guy everyone was talking about."

"Next victim is him? Haha."

"Even if he’s hot, looks won’t help in an exam."

"Can’t wait to see what kind of face he makes when he comes out."

Amidst the mix of admiration and mockery, Lin Tian pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room fell silent.

Lin Tian adjusted his clothes and sat down at the piano.

The proctor was a young female teacher with round glasses and a faintly artistic aura. She glanced up and blinked in surprise at the sight of Lin Tian.

Was this year’s crop of students really this good-looking?

She couldn’t help but admire his appearance. But she also knew from experience that good looks rarely translated into good scores — especially not today.

Earlier, several students had left the room with trembling legs and pale faces. Watching this boy now, so calm and composed, she felt a pang of sympathy.

Maybe he’d already given up hope and accepted the need to retake next year.

The recording began.

Lin Tian picked up the paper with the exam piece.

Outside the room, murmurs of anxiety and speculation grew louder.

Lin Tian had heard some of the rumors at the entrance — this year’s test was different. He had mentally prepared himself.

But when he opened the sheet music and saw the eight-measure melody written in front of him, he instantly recognized the style.

Classical.

Erwin’s work.

Lin Tian smiled.

“…”

“What the hell is he smiling for?”

Through the slits in the curtain, other students peered in, watching in disbelief.

“He must be scared out of his mind!”

“Has he lost it already?”

“Damn, his mindset is so chill. I’m sweating buckets, and he’s actually smiling?!”

The female proctor raised an eyebrow.

Other students had looked like they were about to cry when they received the sheet music. Why was this boy laughing?

Had he already decided to drop out and retake next year?

Still, she understood the difficulty of the question. As one of the proctors, she herself had found the piece extremely challenging.

While many provinces had gradually shifted toward modern music in recent years, had gone full circle — choosing obscure, high-difficulty classical pieces.

Even someone with her background from struggled to interpret them.

How could these students, fresh out of intensive training, handle such a challenge?

“~”

Suddenly, the sound of piano keys filled the room.

The female proctor’s head snapped up.

Lin Tian’s fingers danced across the keys with effortless precision.

The music flowed naturally, smooth and fluid, like a gentle stream cascading through the air.

What. Was. That?

That was sight-reading?

It was too smooth.

Too perfect.

The proctor’s eyes widened in shock.