Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C167

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Chapter 167: A Dangerous Performance

"Yanyu, listen carefully. An outstanding musician can infuse their interpretation of emotions into the music by drawing on their own life experiences."

"But Grandpa, what if I don’t have any life experiences yet?"

A young , barely seven years old, raised her tiny hand and looked up at with wide, innocent eyes.

Gan Hua wiped the sweat from his brow. "You’re right. You’ve never been to kindergarten, rarely left the house—how could you possibly understand life’s weight at your age?"

After a moment of contemplation, he added, "There is another way. Close your eyes."

Obediently, Gan Yanyu shut her eyes.

"The composer of this piece was named . When he was thirteen, his homeland was invaded by an empire's army. Imagine that you and Erwin are childhood friends. Picture yourself standing alone in the streets as the capital falls, your parents nowhere to be found."

...

A few moments passed.

"Yanyu, you’ve actually done it!" Gan Hua exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe. "Incredible… a true genius! Our family’s legacy of cello playing will live on through you!"

As Gan Yanyu sat there biting her finger, confusion clouding her features, Gan Hua leaned closer and spoke earnestly:

"Yanyu, remember this—it’s a gift unique to you, one no one else can replicate. If used wisely, it can take you to the world stage. But above all, never lose yourself. The cello is your tool; don’t let it consume you."

---

Memories of those early lessons surfaced in Gan Yanyu’s mind now, as she stood on the stage of the . Her gaze swept over the audience, and she gave a slight nod. That moment with her grandfather had been one of the most beautiful in her life—and perhaps it was then that she first realized how different she was.

Through countless hours practicing classical pieces, she grew enamored with the sensation of connecting deeply with each composition. Every new piece felt like conversing with a soul, experiencing the lives they’d lived. She cherished this feeling so much that every performance became an act of pure enjoyment.

Here she was again, two years later, standing on the same stage where she’d faltered before. The familiarity of the venue—the seats, the blinding lights, even the faint scent of wood in the air—was eerily unchanged. Had she truly overcome herself?

No. This newfound confidence was merely a facade, something she projected for , for everyone watching. But what choice did she have? Always holding them back, always lost on stage...

She’d delivered stunning performances during the and at the . Yet self-doubt lingered. If she couldn’t fully believe in herself, then at least she could believe that she could believe.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered to herself: You can do this, Yanyu. I must be confident because Lin Tian needs me to be. I have to—I will.

With that resolve, she drew the bow across the strings.

Graceful notes spilled forth, weaving a tender, understated passion that began to fill . In an instant, the audience was enveloped in its warmth. All traces of pretense and restlessness seemed to vanish, leaving only rapt attention fixed on the girl onstage.

Then, the piano joined in—a symphony ignited.

Lin Tian’s heart tightened. It was happening again, just like during their outdoor performance. As the cello’s powerful resonance washed over him, his world spun out of focus.

When clarity returned, he found himself standing center stage while Gan Yanyu extended her hand toward him. Her cheeks flushed, lips curled into a radiant smile brighter than the stars in the night sky.

Beautiful.

Stunned for a moment, Lin Tian stepped forward and took her hand. Together, they moved in sync—stepping, spinning, gliding like two elegant swans.

“How breathtaking,” murmured aloud, utterly transfixed.

“What kind of terrifying power is this?” he wondered.

Though Gan Yanyu remained seated, playing her cello, and Lin Tian stayed rooted at the piano, Yao Han swore he saw them dancing together in the center of the stage. It was surreal, almost cinematic.

Yao Han had never witnessed such an extraordinary performance. Gan Yanyu wasn’t merely performing; she was bringing the story behind the music to life. Like a film, a play, or even a portal to another time and place, she transported every listener to the world where the piece was born.

How was she doing it?

As the final note faded, thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall. Even Yao Han clapped sincerely, overwhelmed by the experience.

“It’s perfect,” remarked beside him. “A true prodigy. To think Old Gan’s granddaughter could interpret the cello to such heights…”

“I underestimated her,” Yao Han admitted. “When she walked onstage, I thought her presence lacked strength. But once she got into her element, her confidence rivaled Bai Xi’s.”

“In terms of emotional expression, I’d say she surpasses everyone else here,” He Shumo added.

From initial skepticism about Qingjiang’s musicianship, to admiration for Bai Xi, and now awe for Gan Yanyu, the judges—including Yao Han and He Shumo—were left speechless. If anything, the immersive quality of Gan Yanyu’s performance highlighted her exceptional skill.

The audience, too, was profoundly moved. Amidst the applause, some rose to their feet, shouting:

“Sister Gan, amazing!”

“Lin Tian, fantastic job!”

“We believe in you both—you’ll win the championship!”

Despite rules against loud disturbances, security guards scrambled to maintain order but struggled to contain the crowd’s enthusiasm.

Amid the chaos—

Knock, knock, knock.

All heads turned toward the source of the sound. , who had remained silent and expressionless throughout the competition, tapped his fingers on the table, producing a sharp, authoritative noise.

“I cannot accept such a performance,” he declared.

Hearing this, Lin Tian immediately rushed to the edge of the stage. But Toba’s next words weren’t directed at Gan Yanyu—they were aimed at Lin Tian.

“You must have noticed,” Toba said calmly, “just how dangerous her playing truly is.”

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