Chapter 353

Chapter 353

◎Public Violence◎

Ji Yunting lightly patted Ji Nanxing’s hand and placed the freshly served chestnut cake beside him. While their father and Uncle Du were distracted with tea, he said, “Where is Wenxian now? Why didn’t he come today? If he plans to seriously pursue music, my second brother knows quite a few masters in this field. If Wenxian needs any help, we can connect him.”

Mr. Du smiled. “If you’re willing to keep an eye on that brat, I’d be more than relieved. Today, he went to some music networking event—I don’t really understand it. Right after winning first place in the competition, he got a bunch of invitations, even offers to sign contracts for shows. These days, making a name for yourself means getting involved in fame-chasing circles no matter what you do. I’m not worried about anything else—just that my kid is too naive and might get scammed.”

Ji Yunting asked, “Uncle Du, you mentioned Wenxian turns twenty in two months. What’s his exact birth date in April?”

Mr. Du didn’t think much of it and replied, “April seventeenth. His mother had a tough time back then—she went into labor suddenly in the middle of the night, but the baby was too big for a natural birth. We had to scramble to find a doctor who could perform a C-section, and it was almost dawn by the time he was born. He weighed over eight pounds at birth. I thought he’d grow up chubby, but the older he got, the leaner he became.”

Once he started talking about his son, Mr. Du couldn’t stop: “When the nurse brought him out, the sky had just brightened. I thought it was perfect—naming him ‘Chenxi’ (dawn) would’ve been so meaningful. But that name was too common, so I went through the dictionary and settled on ‘Xian.’ I even had a master check it—it represents stability and balances destiny. Given how active he was in his mother’s womb, I hoped he’d grow up more level-headed, so I paired it with ‘Wen.’ The name turned out to be just right. He was wild before birth but quiet afterward. By six or seven, he could sit at the piano and play all day.”

If not for his son’s early love for music and the countless hours of practice he’d devoted to it, Mr. Du would’ve preferred him to go into business. Their family’s glue production business would need an heir eventually. But seeing his son’s passion, he couldn’t bear to force him into something he disliked. He resigned himself to hiring someone professional to run things, ensuring his son could live comfortably and happily for the rest of his life.

Based on the birth details Mr. Du provided, Ji Nanxing cast Du Wenxian’s horoscope and frowned slightly. He whispered to his brother, “It’s an impending calamity.”

Impending calamities could be avoided—they weren’t inescapable death sentences.

Ji Yunting nodded at him, and Ji Nanxing turned to Mr. Du: “Uncle Du, I noticed omens of child loss in your features. After casting Wenxian-ge’s chart based on his birth time, I suggest keeping him at home and not letting him go out before sunset today.”

Mr. Du was startled. Who could stay calm upon hearing they might lose their child? Especially someone who treasured his son like the apple of his eye.

Ji’s father was also alarmed and urged, “Old Du, check where your son is right now! If he’s outside, get someone to bring him home immediately! My Xiao Bao studied under a grand Taoist master—he’s never wrong about these things. Hurry!”

If it had just been Ji Nanxing’s words, Mr. Du might’ve hesitated. After all, how could he fully trust a teenager’s warning? Though he’d likely play it safe, his decades-old friend’s insistence made him act without question.

Du Wenxian answered his father’s call and heard the demand to return home and stay indoors, frowning in confusion. “I already made plans. What’s with the sudden change?”

Mr. Du insisted urgently, “Just listen to me—just for today! Stay home. I have something important to discuss. I’m coming back right now—wait for me!”

Without giving Du Wenxian a chance to refuse, he hung up and immediately prepared to leave.

Du Wenxian stared at the ended call, frowning again, but he didn’t turn back. Instead, he continued driving toward the venue of the banquet.

Mr. Du was panicked and sweating buckets as he stood up. He turned to Ji Nanxing for confirmation: “You’re absolutely sure you’re not mistaken?”

Ji Nanxing shook his head. “No. Right after you hung up, the signs on your face worsened. It seems Wenxian-ge didn’t listen and go home.”

Mr. Du paled in panic. “I have to find him!”

Ji’s father suggested, “What about your bodyguards? Have them forcibly bring him back first.”

Mr. Du remembered his bodyguards—but then recalled they were currently in China. “I only came with my son for the competition and to visit friends, so I didn’t bring many people. Just one, and he’s with me today.”

Ji Yunting said, “Uncle Du, do you know where Wenxian is headed today? I’ll send my family’s bodyguards to fetch him.”

Following the gps, Du Wenxian drove to the club. Though he’d visited China a few times over the years, having grown up abroad, he wasn’t entirely familiar with how things work here. Still, he knew that to succeed in music, he couldn’t just focus on the craft itself.

Every circle had its rules. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe his talent alone could break those rules, so he had to follow them. Connections were built gradually, and he’d already gotten a great launching pad—he couldn’t afford to miss the opportunities that followed.

Tonight’s banquet was a celebration for the Youth Music Competition. Aside from some contestants, the judges and mentors would attend, along with several renowned musicians. Whether for networking or learning, Du Wenxian wasn’t about to pass this up. As the champion, his absence would be downright disrespectful to the organizers.

As the winner of this year’s Youth Music Competition, Du Wenxian became the man of the hour the moment he arrived. Young, handsome, talented, and from a wealthy family, or so they say—regardless of his future, his current title earned him admiration and attention from everyone present.

Having grown up attending various social events with his family, Du Wenxian was no stranger to the social graces. Amidst the clinking glasses and lively chatter, the place was buzzing.

Several industry veterans regarded as masters treated Du Wenxian with warmth and friendliness, discussing music, exchanging insights, and pointing out some flaws.

Those who could swallow their pride took the initiative to approach him for advice. It was a rare opportunity—why play hard to get when a few words could make you recognizable? No one expected the big names to come find them.

Others, more reserved and unaccustomed to such events, having spent most of their time focused solely on practicing their instruments, felt awkward about approaching. Uninterested in chasing fame or fortune, they simply hovered near the food and drinks, killing time until it was polite to leave.

In the crowd, a young man noticed how many people were gathered around Du Wenxian. Holding a glass, he moved to a quiet corner, overcome by a surge of irritation that made him want to be alone.

These scenes practically begged for gossip, and sure enough, after Su Zhe sat quietly for a while, footsteps approached.

He didn’t bother announcing his presence—it wasn’t like his spot in the corner got in anyone’s way.

Two people arrived, first marveling at the well-known figures from the music scene present that evening, then talking about several notable producers.

“I heard they’re planning a music variety show and are scouting for talent. The champion is definitely on their list—how lucky, opportunities just fall into his lap. I tried greeting that producer earlier, and you should’ve seen his plastic smile. So fake.”

The other took a sip of champagne and scoffed. “His father is supposedly the CEO of Yu Jiao Group, a designated supplier for global tire manufacturers. Rumor has it they’re expanding into the domestic market, negotiating with several medical equipment companies—a highly lucrative field.”

“How do you know all this?” the first asked with a laugh.

“I had to find out who beat me after he won the championship. His background was dug up that very night—a rich kid slumming it. Who knows if the title wasn’t bought?”

Lowering his voice, the first added, “Did you know? The frontrunner for the Youth Music Competition was originally Su Zhe. Then this Du heir came out of nowhere. Last month, Su Zhe even held a concert, hyped up as a ‘musical wunderkind’ and the successor to the great pianist Yin Yue. Who knows if he paid for the marketing? Made it sound like he was a once-in-a-century genius. And then? One competition exposed the fraud.”

The other nodded. “I’ve heard of Su Zhe. Isn’t he the Ding family’s adopted son? They’ve been grooming him heavily, right?”

“Adopted? More like a distant relative—Madam Ding’s nephew, I think. I’ve seen him call her ‘aunt’ before. The Dings are a mess—neglecting their own son to pour resources into a nephew. They showed Su Zhe off at every turn—I’ve seen it multiple times. But the moment he lost the Youth Music Competition? Boom. They dropped him overnight.”

“That harsh? Over one competition?”

“Absolutely. They built him up as this genius musician, and now what’s he got to show for it? Even if he gets famous later, a quick search will show he never even won the Youth Music Competition. How can he call himself a prodigy then?”

Listening from the shadows, Su Zhe couldn’t help but recall his aunt’s sudden change in demeanor.

Once, he was the beloved nephew—given top-tier teachers, public acclaim, privileges even the Ding heir, Ding Ran, never received. All because he had musical talent, while Ding Ran couldn’t carry a tune if his life depended on it.

People assumed he lived like a true Ding scion. They only saw the carefully curated image, never realizing it was all transactional. Win them prestige, and he was the darling. Fall short, and the knives came out.

*You couldn’t even clinch a tiny competition? What use are you?*

*If others can do it, so can you.*

*After everything we’ve poured into you, you should be grateful.*

*Your grandfather was the Vienna Philharmonic’s concertmaster—you must inherit his legacy.*

But after the Youth Music Competition defeat, his aunt’s true colors showed.

*Can’t even win a nobody competition and you dream of Vienna?*

*All the money and effort wasted on you—we should’ve just gotten a damn dog!*

*You’ve humiliated both the Ding and Su families!*

*Don’t you dare call me ‘aunt’ in public again. I refuse to be associated with you!*

That was the truth of it.

Su Zhe drained his glass as the voices outside continued picking apart his downfall—how he’d stolen the Ding heir’s spotlight, only to be discarded the moment he proved useless. How Ding Ran, talentless as he was, would always be the true Ding heir.

And as for Su Zhe, once the heir of a once-glorious musical family, it was a pity that each generation fell further into decline. The wealth and reputation painstakingly built in earlier years had long been squandered by the family. With the Ding family now abandoning him, he might not even be able to afford a meal.

Stripped of everything in an instant.

Su Zhe looked around at the opulent scene—high-end couture gowns, women’s jewelry, men’s luxury watches, each easily worth millions. This was no place for him. Yet he had been dragged into this world of fame and fortune simply because he was born into the Su family, and because as a child he had shown love and talent for music.

They were the ones who dragged him in—only to abandon him later. His life could not tolerate a single loss; one defeat would erase more than twenty years of effort.

Why? Why did those people get to control his fate so easily?

*The "true" young master, the "false" young master*—ever since his aunt had taken him under her wing, how many had come accusing him? Saying he had stolen the position that belonged to Ding Ran, calling him delusional for dreaming of taking another’s place, even *accusing* him of stealing Ding Ran’s mother.

Su Zhe found it laughable. Was this his choice? He had his own mother—why would he want someone else’s? But none of it was ever up to him.

The harder he fought the bitterness, the tighter it gripped him. The praise he had once received now felt like compliments turned to knives, slicing into him again and again.

A wave of static filled his head, drowning out all other sounds. He could no longer see anyone else—only Du Wenxian, surrounded by the crowd. In a daze, Du Wenxian’s face morphed into his aunt’s—that woman with a heavy-jowled face who had scolded and mocked him relentlessly after his defeat.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her, and no one will ever force you again.

The hypnotic voice echoed in Su Zhe’s mind. He instinctively resisted—he couldn’t do this, or he’d be damned forever. But his body seemed beyond his control. In a haze of numbness and clarity, he couldn’t stop himself, yet he knew exactly what he was doing.

He grabbed a knife left behind after cutting the cake, pushed through the crowd, and approached his aunt. He felt himself gripping her clothes, raising the blade, and driving it down with all his strength.

A sharp *clang* shattered the trance. Piercing screams erupted around him as someone twisted his arms behind his back and forced him to the ground.

Su Zhe was stunned. What had he just done? Had he… killed someone?

Mr. Du burst through the door, rushing in just in time to see someone lunging at his son with a knife. His mind went blank, his legs weak—but before he could react, the Ji family’s bodyguards moved faster. One kicked Su Zhe’s hand away, another seized the knife, and a third pinned Su Zhe to the floor.

Tears streaming down his face, Mr. Du threw himself at his son, clutching Du Wenxian tightly. “You scared me to death! You *scared me to death*! I told you to stay home, but you wouldn’t listen! A second later, just a *second*—and I would’ve had to bury my own child! If anything happened to you, your mother and I wouldn’t want to live either!”

Du Wenxian was just as stunned. Everything had happened too fast—he hadn’t even had time to react.

Ji Nanxing, who had entered behind Ji Yunting and his father, glanced at the figure on the ground and frowned in surprise. It was Su Zhe—someone he had met once before. But the last time they met, he hadn’t detected any *crimson-sa* energy around him.

Puzzled, Ji Nanxing squinted—now spotting faint black threads slowly receding from Su Zhe’s limbs.