Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C166

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Chapter 166: , Charging Forward

" is supposedly a province known for its musical talent, but honestly, it feels underwhelming."

"These preliminaries are disappointing. Some of these cellists can’t even handle the basics."

On the judges' panel, two middle-aged figures sat near the center, their brows furrowed as they delivered sharp critiques.

One was , a university professor with a scholarly demeanor, his glasses perched neatly on his nose. Beside him sat , a former pianist who spoke more boldly and directly. Both were part of the trio of special guest judges from the in the capital—alongside the internationally renowned , who occupied the central seat.

Though being from the capital didn’t necessarily mean they were better than local Qingjiang judges, their prestige gave their words significant weight among reporters and other panelists.

An hour into the competition, dozens of contestants had already performed. Yet, to He Shumo and Yao Han, the overall quality left much to be desired. Many participants struggled simply to play through their pieces without error, let alone demonstrate emotional depth or stage presence.

It was hard to believe this was supposed to represent the highest level of cello performance in Qingjiang.

"I think Qingjiang’s reputation has been inflated because of ," Yao Han remarked lazily, leaning back in his chair. "He must have set an unreasonably high bar."

He Shumo adjusted his glasses, his voice calm but firm. "While it’s too early to draw conclusions, I agree that so far, the performances haven’t lived up to expectations."

Yao Han tapped his fingers lightly against the table. "Honestly, most of them don’t even reach a ‘C-level’ standard in my book. This kind of playing puts me to sleep."

As he spoke, his eyes darted toward Toba Jianhui beside him. The elderly man’s brow remained knitted tightly, his piercing gaze fixed intently on the stage. His silence radiated an ominous aura, making even Yao Han shiver slightly.

Outwardly, Yao Han continued his complaints, voicing harsh criticisms openly. But inwardly, he knew part of his role here was to vent the frustration building within Toba Jianhui before the old man unleashed something catastrophic.

"Ah, next up is ," He Shumo said, glancing at his notes.

"The runner-up from last year? Didn’t she just win the ?" Yao Han confirmed.

"Yes, she did."

"At only twenty-three. Interesting."

Yao Han reclined further, flipping through her profile. "Even so, after watching this hour-long parade of mediocrity, let’s try to approach her with an open mind."

His comment carried a hint of mockery. In a field where most performers lacked standout talent, local champions inevitably raised questions about whether there were truly no heroes left—or if mere mortals had risen to prominence instead.

As Bai Xi stepped onto the stage in her striking red gown, murmurs rippled through the audience. For the first time since the competition began, scattered cheers erupted. Even Yao Han turned curiously toward the crowd.

"Her presence is powerful," He Shumo observed.

"Strong presence? Or just good looks?" Yao Han quipped, smirking. "You’re still the same as always, captivated by pretty faces."

The two had crossed paths before during offline events hosted by the music association, and Yao Han had never cared for He Shumo’s pretentiousness. Despite his youthful accolades, He Shumo always carried himself like some austere intellectual. Yet behind closed doors, everyone knew he secretly favored attractive young female musicians, scrutinizing their performances with unusual intensity whenever they took the stage.

"No," He Shumo replied coolly. "If I were merely admiring her appearance, I wouldn’t be so composed. Look at how deliberately she walks across the stage, how her eyes constantly track the cameras to ensure her best angles are captured. That level of self-awareness requires absolute confidence—not just in her looks, but in her music."

"All right, all right," Yao Han waved dismissively, unwilling to hear more. Who talks like that? “I wouldn’t be this calm”? It seemed overly calculated, almost as if He Shumo might already be mentally scoring her.

Still, Bai Xi undeniably stood out among the competitors so far—not just musically, but visually. Every movement oozed charisma. She didn’t look like a cellist; she looked like a dancer.

As for why Yao Han kept fixating on her appearance rather than her cello skills... well, after enduring an hour of lackluster performances from Qingjiang’s finest, enthusiasm for technical critique had waned significantly.

Bai Xi settled gracefully into position at the center of the stage. After a brief tuning session, she drew the bow across the strings—

The music surged forth like a wild beast breaking free from its cage, charging straight at the audience with raw energy.

Zero-frame buildup.

Yao Han bolted upright, hastily flipping through his notes. "Specialty: ."

Pop music? Sure enough, the piece resonating now was , a grand, sweeping anthem composed in the late 20th century. Under Bai Xi’s fingers, accompanied by two percussion instruments, the melody transformed into an epic soundscape that filled the hall.

"Not bad," Yao Han muttered, suddenly adopting a serious expression.

Incredible Overture wasn’t strictly classical—it felt more like the theme song to some fantasy RPG, meticulously designed to evoke cinematic grandeur. And while its calculated nature made it less profound than traditional war anthems, it connected deeply with listeners, leveraging the accessibility of pop music to stir emotions.

This was pop music’s advantage. Bai Xi’s interpretation maximized it perfectly, turning what could have been a hindrance—the limitations of the cello—into a stunning showcase of sonic power.

"Impressive," He Shumo admitted. Their earlier dismissal of Qingjiang’s talent now seemed premature.

As Bai Xi concluded her performance, thunderous applause erupted throughout the venue. The other judges exchanged approving nods, their expressions softening noticeably.

"Twenty-three years old, yet so accomplished," one remarked. "Her expressiveness and understanding of the instrument mark her as one of the top cellists today."

"No wonder she was runner-up last year. Back then, I thought her skill rivaled anyone’s, but her youth needed seasoning. At twenty-three, she’s primed for victory."

Another chuckled. "Still, performing such a stellar piece so early may not bode well for the rest. With nearly a hundred contestants left, how will anyone else measure up?"

For the first time since the competition began, lively discussions buzzed among the judges. Yao Han glanced cautiously at Toba Jianhui. To his relief, the elder judge’s previously furrowed brow had relaxed somewhat, his expression now calmer.

Clearly, Bai Xi’s performance had earned Toba’s tacit approval—a rare feat given his usual stoicism.

---

Back in the green room, Bai Xi’s exit sparked fervent conversation. Since it was only the preliminary round, rivalry hadn’t fully kicked in yet. Instead, many competitors expressed genuine admiration for her electrifying performance.

"Amazing, Miss Bai. Just as expected."

"After today’s media rankings refresh, she’ll likely dominate the leaderboard."

"Even Master Toba softened his expression!"

Seeing Toba Jianhui’s visibly relieved demeanor on camera brought tears of gratitude to some younger cellists’ eyes. Earlier, his simmering anger had sent stress levels skyrocketing. Performing under those conditions felt less like stepping onto a stage and more like walking to the gallows.

Bai Xi’s piece had defused the tension, giving subsequent contestants a psychological reprieve.

---

"How do you feel, Miss Gan?"

tentatively asked , who sat quietly beside him.

"What do you mean?"

"Watching Bai Xi’s performance—what are your thoughts?"

Gan Yanyu smiled faintly. "I envy her. Not her technique, but her confidence."

Indeed, Bai Xi’s self-assurance was legendary among the competitors. It wasn’t just evident in her bold choice of repertoire; it permeated every note she played. Even offstage, she exuded social ease, approaching Lin Tian and Gan Yanyu despite barely knowing them. A true social dynamo.

In stark contrast stood Gan Yanyu, whose humility created an entirely different aura.

"But it’s okay," Gan Yanyu added softly. "Whatever happens, I’ll accept it. I don’t want to burden you anymore, Lin Tian. On this stage, I’ll give my best performance."

"Even with so many people watching?"

"Yes."

"Even if that old grouch targets you specifically?"

"Yes."

"Why the sudden change?"

Gan Yanyu hesitated, recalling Pu Yidan’s words during their visit to days prior. They’d been hard to process, but she decided to embrace a shift in mindset. If something felt right, why not act on it?

She didn’t have full confidence, but she knew she had to try—even in front of Toba Jianhui.

"Next up, Gan Yanyu, please prepare."

As the staff announced her turn, Gan Yanyu rose, picking up her cello. Together, she and Lin Tian headed toward the door. Behind them, excited whispers erupted in the green room.

"Thank goodness it’s Miss Gan!"

"With her performance, Master Toba’s mood will surely improve further."

"But didn’t he criticize her in interviews before?"

"That’s because he hasn’t seen her play properly. Trust me—I was there during the Starlight Cup. She’s incredible. Easily on par with Bai Xi."

Contestants scheduled after Gan Yanyu sighed in collective relief. While Bai Xi had extinguished Toba’s fiery temper, Gan Yanyu promised to elevate the atmosphere further, easing the nerves of those still waiting.

"Gan Yanyu? Old Gan’s granddaughter, huh?"

Yao Han studied her profile thoughtfully. Suddenly—

"Woo-hoo!"

A deafening cheer erupted from the audience. Yao Han nearly toppled off his chair as he spun around. Spectators leapt to their feet, clapping wildly, young fans screaming themselves hoarse.

What was going on?

If Bai Xi had been popular, this reaction bordered on fanatical. Turning back, Yao Han saw Gan Yanyu glide onto the stage in a sleek black gown, her face serene and unreadable.

"Beautiful," he murmured involuntarily.

Slam.

Beside him, He Shumo slapped the table. "Damn… she’s breathtaking. Like a work of art. I’ve never seen a musician so stunning."

Yao Han swallowed hard, realizing his prejudice against He Shumo had blinded him to the truth about beauty inspiring composure.

"But… does she have what it takes? Her presence doesn’t seem overwhelming."

He turned back to the stage. Lin Tian had taken his place at the piano. Applause faded to silence, leaving only the sound of racing heartbeats.

Lin Tian glanced sideways at Gan Yanyu. She adjusted her posture methodically, positioning her cello with practiced precision. The light cast from below outlined her figure in a golden glow, ethereal and dreamlike.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Lin Tian felt something different about her. Her silhouette seemed larger than before—not physically, but in spirit.

Brave Yanyu had arrived.

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