Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C190

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Chapter 190: A Clean Sweep

As the music reached its crescendo, the judges’ focus shifted from their initial awe of the composition to the technical mastery of the performers themselves.

He Shumo watched Lin Tian and Gan Yanyu intently, trying to steady his racing thoughts.

There was no denying it—this piece was a bombshell.

As a music critic and composer himself, He Shumo had spent years attending performances and reviewing countless works. But never before had he encountered a melody so breathtakingly beautiful right from the first note.

However, this was a cello competition.

The choice of repertoire, no matter how stunning, couldn’t directly influence the scoring. Even after Yao Han’s subtle hints confirmed that Lin Tian was the composer of this masterpiece, He Shumo knew he had to remain objective.

Despite the overwhelming urge to immediately scribble an “A+” on his score sheet, he forced himself to hold back.

For such an extraordinary piece to truly shine on stage, the performers needed to bring out its full potential—its most enchanting essence—right here, in front of the judges and audience.

“…”

As the grand climax approached, Gan Yanyu closed her eyes.

Her bow glided across the strings.

This was pure Gan Yanyu-style playing.

In that moment, amidst the flowing music, she envisioned herself stepping barefoot into a lush green forest. Birds chirped melodiously, flowers bloomed vibrantly, and all creatures lived in perfect harmony. There was no conflict, no struggle—not even humans disrupted the peace.

In this serene world, even the most hardened hearts could find solace. Even the most broken souls could experience redemption.

The words “harmony” and “eternity” echoed in the listeners’ minds, carried by the deep resonance of the cello into their very spirits.

“Amazing…”

Mao Junfeng murmured under his breath, utterly captivated. “Miss Gan Yanyu truly feels like a forest sprite.”

His violinist partner nodded fervently in agreement.

Just listening to this healing melody evoked images of vitality and flourishing life.

No wonder…

No wonder Toba Jianhui had spoken those harsh words during her last performance.

Behind such moving and beautiful music lay Gan Yanyu’s terrifying ability to immerse herself—and others—in the emotions of the piece. It was enough to send chills down the spines of even the most seasoned cellists.

Performing… performing…

The word “performance” came before “playing.”

Most musicians performed—they acted out their parts.

But Gan Yanyu? She experienced.

As fellow musicians, none understood the weight of Toba Jianhui’s earlier critique better than these young contestants. Yet, precisely because they were peers, they couldn’t help but ponder his words.

What kind of mental world did someone like Gan Yanyu inhabit? Could she one day lose control, turning the stage into chaos and impacting her real life?

Why, Old Gan?

Why would you teach her such a dangerous style of playing?

“…”

In the center seat of the judges’ panel, Toba Jianhui—whose expression had remained unchanged throughout the competition—finally let out a heavy sigh.

As a conductor, Toba Jianhui had nurtured many renowned musicians over the years.

The relationship between a conductor and an orchestra wasn’t merely hierarchical; it was symbiotic. The conductor was the brain, and the musicians were the limbs, executing the conductor’s artistic vision with precision.

Musicians weren’t supposed to inject too much personal emotion into their playing. Their role was to follow the conductor’s interpretation faithfully.

An orchestra was simply a tool to interpret the conductor’s musical ideas. A great conductor could elevate musicians, pushing them toward greatness as they collaborated to create masterpieces.

That’s why many musicians proudly listed “having played in a prestigious orchestra” as a key credential—it signaled their ability to align perfectly with a conductor’s vision.

But there was one exception.

Back when Toba Jianhui was 38, at the height of his career, he discovered a talented flutist in the music academy. At just 23, the young man was the youngest member of the orchestra.

Despite his undeniable talent, the flutist frequently made mistakes during ensemble performances, disrupting others.

Toba Jianhui—who had worked closely with Gan Hua, the legendary cellist—quickly realized the problem.

This young man’s mind operated differently. He had his own unique understanding of music, refusing to conform to anyone else’s ideas. Once immersed in his playing, he became untouchable, pulling other musicians off course and making collaboration unbearable.

In an orchestra, this was unacceptable.

Gan Hua argued that the flutist’s presence was destructive and demanded his removal.

But Toba Jianhui saw potential. Believing that discipline within the structured environment of an orchestra might temper the flutist’s tendencies, he decided to mentor him instead.

For years, Toba worked closely with the young man, incorporating his insights into the orchestra’s performances.

Ultimately, Toba was wrong.

He never imagined the extent of the destruction the 23-year-old would unleash. Not even a conductor of Toba’s caliber could rein him in.

In the end, Toba watched helplessly as the young man spiraled into ruin, consumed by his obsession with music.

Even today, decades later, the memory haunted him.

How could someone whose life revolved around sharing his musical interpretations with others nearly be devoured by another’s musical world—and then witness its total collapse?

Old Gan…

You once vehemently opposed this style of playing.

So why did you pass it on to your granddaughter?

Was the trauma of the Kölner Cup so profound?

Even your own granddaughter…

Twenty years had passed. Perhaps age had softened Toba Jianhui’s once-fierce devotion to music. Now, watching Gan Yanyu on stage, all he felt was a deep, aching sorrow.

Compared to that reckless flutist, Gan Yanyu was even more formidable.

Under Gan Hua’s tutelage, she had honed this style of playing to perfection—far surpassing anything the flutist had achieved.

Toba Jianhui couldn’t bear to see history repeat itself.

He couldn’t watch another tragedy unfold.

If even my orchestra couldn’t control such a performer…

What force in this world could possibly restrain her?

---

Then, the piano began.

Its sound was gentle, like flowing water and warm breezes.

Lin Tian closed his eyes, losing himself in the music.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His notes danced through the air, wrapping around the audience, brushing against the judges’ faces—including Toba Jianhui’s weathered visage.

Bathed in the tender embrace of Canon in D Major, the old man froze.

“Damn…”

Yao Han silently cheered in his mind.

He did it.

He actually suppressed Gan Yanyu.

The two instruments intertwined harmoniously, embracing each other in sweet unity.

The piano enveloped the cello without overshadowing it or stealing the spotlight. Instead, it guided the melody forward, nurturing and protecting it every step of the way—a delicate balance maintained with utmost care.

This was the essence of Canon—perfect harmony.

Almost simultaneously, several judges caught on.

“Incredible! Who is this pianist?”

“The moment the piano joined in, the entire mood of the piece changed!”

“Brilliant! Though this is a cello competition, hearing such a flawless duet is truly refreshing.”

The judges exchanged nods of admiration.

Backstage, the competitors were equally entranced.

Mao Junfeng scratched the back of his head, his face a mix of amazement and delight.

“It’s magical—I can’t explain why.”

“As soon as the piano came in, all my unease vanished.”

Before, while Gan Yanyu’s performance had been impeccable, Mao Junfeng couldn’t shake a lingering sense of unease. Her playing was so immersive it bordered on unsettling—a reminder of how dangerously close art could come to reality.

But now, with the piano weaving its soothing thread through the music, that discomfort melted away. Everything fell into place, creating a deeply moving harmony.

In the opposite green room, Bai Xi gazed at the screen, studying Lin Tian’s face with growing admiration.

“Lin Tian… I knew I hadn’t misjudged you.”

“You are the kindred spirit every musician dreams of having.”

Yes, exactly.

What a breathtaking performance, Lin Tian.

Yao Han crossed his arms, trembling with excitement.

All his efforts had paid off.

To witness such a performance made this trip to Qingzhou worthwhile.

Oh, and speaking of our “esteemed” Toba Jianhui…

He’d been fixated solely on Gan Yanyu, completely overlooking the variable named Lin Tian.

How satisfying must this slap in the face feel?

Surely, he must be fuming by now.

Smirking, Yao Han glanced sideways—but froze mid-smile.

Toba Jianhui sat motionless, staring blankly at the stage.

For a fleeting moment, the wrinkles on his face seemed to soften, his slightly hunched back straightening as if he were a strong young man again.

Tears welled up in his eyes as the ethereal finale of Canon in D Major faded into silence.

Thunderous applause erupted, louder than anything heard before.

The music ended.

Gan Yanyu and Lin Tian rose together, bowing gracefully to the audience.

As Lin Tian lifted his gaze, searching for Toba Jianhui, he found the seat empty. Instead, Yao Han caught his eye, raising a hand and mimicking a throat-slitting gesture.

Kill everyone?

No—wipe them all out.

It meant they had utterly crushed every competitor, including Toba Jianhui.

Yao Han grinned triumphantly.

After all B-group contestants finished their performances, the semifinals entered a brief intermission. The winners would be announced onstage immediately afterward.

Lin Tian and Gan Yanyu retreated to the green room to rest. Taking advantage of the break, Lin Tian excused himself to use the restroom. As he stepped into the hallway, he nearly collided with Toba Jianhui, who stood holding his thermos cup, exuding an aura of quiet authority.

Lin Tian tensed.

The scoring announcement was imminent, and Toba Jianhui’s pettiness was well-known. Lin Tian didn’t expect favorable marks from him—their performance had been designed to humiliate him. Still, with high scores from the other judges, advancement was assured.

Uncertain of Toba’s intentions, Lin Tian tried to sidestep him.

“Lin Tian,” the elderly voice called out, halting him in his tracks.

Turning, Lin Tian met Toba’s gaze. To his surprise, the older man wore an expression tinged with relief and sorrow.

“You play the piano beautifully. You will become a great pianist.”

Lin Tian paused, waiting for him to continue.

After a moment’s hesitation, Toba added, “I admit, my previous assessment was overly hasty. I never imagined Gan Yanyu would have a pianist like you—someone who understands and supports her so profoundly. If she is entrusted to your care, I can rest easy.”

Lin Tian furrowed his brow.

“And you think you’re worthy of that trust?”

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