Unable to be Arrogant [Entertainment Circle] | Chapter 34 | A Melody for the Heart | Novela.app

Chapter 35 - A Melody for the Heart The neon glow of Xiao Nanshan’s night market painted the pavement in vibrant hues of crimson and gold. Zhang Jin’an and Jiang Siyang moved through the crowd, the cool evening air carrying the mingled scents of charcoal-grilled skewers and sweet fermented rice. Zhang Jin’an’s hand brushed against the three crisp hundred-yuan bills in his pocket, a small smile playing on his lips. For a variety show known for its legendary stinginess, this sudden windfall felt like a genuine blessing—a tribute to the program’s landmark hundredth-episode milestone. "It really feels like we're on a proper vacation this time," Jiang Siyang remarked, his eyes bright with the reflected lights of the stalls. "I almost forgot we were even filming." "Don't let Director Jiang hear you say that," Zhang Jin’an teased, though his own gaze was relaxed, lacking its usual sharp, professional edge. "He might decide to take the money back and make us work for our dinner after all. Let’s enjoy this 'budget' while it lasts." They soon reached their destination: a music store tucked away in a quieter corner of the district, where the noise of the market was muffled by thick brick walls. The transition was immediate. As they stepped through the door, the cacophony of the street faded, replaced by the dignified silence of polished wood and taut strings. The air here was cooler and still, smelling faintly of lemon oil, rosin, and old parchment. The store owner, a middle-aged man with spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, looked up from a ledger. He didn't seem particularly starstruck by the cameras following them, merely gesturing toward the instruments with a practiced, weary grace. "A song for a clue," he stated, his voice as steady as a metronome. "The theme is 'Those Years.' If the melody moves the heart, the prize is yours." Zhang Jin’an’s gaze fell upon a sleek black piano standing in the center of the room, its surface gleaming under the warm yellow track lighting. He approached it with a quiet reverence that made the crew hold their breath. As he sat on the bench, adjusting his posture and resting his hands lightly on the ivory keys, the playful "Big Brother" persona he often wore for the variety cameras seemed to melt away. In its place was the focused intensity of a true artist, the Film Emperor returning to his roots. He began to play. The first few notes of "Can't Help Falling for You" drifted through the shop, crystalline and pure. It was a song everyone knew—a staple of youth, school hallways, and first loves—yet under Zhang Jin’an’s touch, it felt entirely new. His fingers danced across the keys with a delicate precision, each chord resonating with a bittersweet nostalgia that seemed to pull at the very fabric of the room. Jiang Siyang stood by the edge of the piano, his breath hitching in his chest. He had seen Zhang Jin’an in many roles—the commanding lead, the mischievous senior, the protective friend—but this was different. In the soft, amber light of the music store, Zhang Jin’an looked like a figure from a cherished, unattainable memory. He was the embodiment of a "White Moonlight," a person one could never quite reach but would never truly forget. The music wasn't just a task to be completed; it was a bridge built of sound between the past and the present, and Jiang Siyang felt himself crossing it. As the final chord vibrated into a long, lingering silence, the store owner nodded slowly, a rare glimmer of genuine emotion softening his features. He reached behind the counter and produced a clue card, along with two sticks of brilliant red candied haws, the sugar coating shimmering like rubies under the shop lights. "Well played," the owner said simply, his voice hushed. "You’ve earned these. But there is a choice to be made. Two paths lie ahead: the Bookstore or the Record Store. Choose your next destination." Zhang Jin’an stood up, the spell breaking as he regained his usual easygoing grin. He took the rewards, the tart-sweet scent of the hawthorns filling the space between him and Jiang Siyang. He looked at the younger man, then at the map on the counter, and finally tapped the icon for the bookstore. "Let's go with the bookstore," Zhang Jin’an said, his voice low and warm. "There's something about the smell of old paper that feels right for a night like this." He handed the candied haws to Jiang Siyang, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second against the younger man’s hand as they prepared to head back out into the night.