Chapter 95 A Familiar Feeling

Chapter 95: A Familiar Feeling

"You're not nervous?" Liang Wenfan walked over, holding a bottle of mineral water. Seeing how cool and collected Cheng Feng looked, he couldn't help but ask.

"I am nervous," Cheng Feng smiled, pulling another candy from his pocket and handing it over. "But being nervous doesn't help; it just makes you more likely to mess up. Here, have one. It really helps."

Liang Wenfan took the candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. The sweetness instantly chased away the dryness in his throat, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you. It really is sweet. Good luck in a bit."

"You too. Good luck." Cheng Feng patted his shoulder.

With only a few minutes left before going on stage, Cheng Feng stood at the backstage entrance, slightly tilting his head to look toward the audience seats.

Last night, he had mentioned the competition to Shang Shaohao. He hadn't expected Shang Shaohao to actually come, bringing Zhang Yuantao along. The two of them were sitting in the middle section, making faces at him.

Cheng Feng couldn't help but smile. His gaze continued to search the crowd and soon locked onto a figure in the corner.

That person was wearing a black baseball cap pulled low, with a black mask covering most of his face, revealing only a pair of intense eyes.

But even with such thorough concealment, Cheng Feng recognized him at a glance.

It was Shang Xu.

Even if the young master was dressed strangely, he would recognize his build and the vibe he gave off.

He smiled, puzzled. Why was the young master being so secretive about coming to watch his competition? Was it to avoid being recognized by others, or didn't want *him* to know?

Before he could ponder it further, the announcer called his name.

Cheng Feng steadied himself, stretched his fingers, took a deep breath, and walked onto the stage.

A spotlight suddenly hit him, making him squint slightly.

He walked to the piano and sat down. The moment he did, he felt something sharp poke his butt. He frowned slightly but didn't pay it much mind.

But when his fingertips touched the piano keys, a strange, itching sensation instantly spread from his fingertips, shooting up his arm straight to his core.

He forced himself to remain calm, lowered his fingers, and began playing his competition piece.

Yet the itching grew increasingly intense, as if countless tiny insects were crawling beneath his skin. It itched so much his whole body felt numb, and his fingertips began to tremble uncontrollably.

Beads of sweat quickly dotted his forehead, rolling down his cheeks and soaking his collar.

It was winter. The studio was heated, but not *that* hot.

Viewers in the live stream quickly noticed something was wrong, and the chat instantly blew up.

"??? Why is this contestant sweating so much? It's winter. The studio can't be that hot, right?"

"Maybe he's just really nervous? It is a national competition, after all. The pressure must be insane."

"Nah, look at his cheeks. They're an abnormal red. It doesn't look like just nerves or heat."

"Could he be feeling unwell? He looks really uncomfortable."

"Don't jump to conspiracy theories. Maybe that's just how he is. But he is really handsome, and his vibe is quite special."

"Wait, why does this guy look so familiar? I feel like I've seen him somewhere before!"

"I think so too! He looks really familiar, but I can't remember where I've seen him. Is he a celebrity? Or an influencer?"

"I checked the participant list. His name is Cheng Feng. He doesn't seem to be famous. But this face... the more I look, the more familiar it seems. Was he a small-time internet celebrity a few years ago?"

"I also think he looks super familiar, but I just can't remember who this guy is."

The live stream buzzed with discussion. Many felt Cheng Feng looked familiar, but no one remembered he was the brave teenager who saved someone and went viral on Douyin for a whole week five years ago.

Meanwhile, in the living room of the Ye family manor's villa, Ye Wenting was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of hot tea.

"I heard Ximo is participating in this piano competition. I came to see how she's playing," Ye Wenting said with a smile to the nanny beside her.

The nanny replied, "Madam, the young miss is the last to perform. It's still early. They're only on the 23rd contestant now. If you're bored, perhaps watch some TV first? I'll remind you when it's the young miss's turn."

"No need," Ye Wenting shook her head, her gaze fixed on the TV screen. "I'm tired of watching TV. Listening to some piano music is nice. It's a peaceful change."

On the TV, Cheng Feng was sitting at the piano playing.

The black suit accentuated his tall, straight posture. His expression was focused, his fingertips dancing nimbly across the keys. The melodious tune flowed through the screen, full of emotion and highly captivating.

Ye Wenting looked at the young man on the screen. At first, she was slightly taken aback, then her brows gradually furrowed, her eyes filled with disbelief.

"Madam, what's wrong?" The nanny noticed her strange expression and asked quickly.

Ye Wenting shook her head, but she couldn't stop her eyes from welling up.

This boy gave her an intensely familiar feeling. The look in his eyes, that clean yet slightly roguish aura... it was so much like her long-deceased younger sister.

Her sister had died over twenty years ago, just barely an adult. Thinking of this, tears couldn't help but roll down her cheeks.

Seeing this, the nanny hurriedly pulled out a few tissues and handed them over. "Madam, why are you crying? Are you feeling unwell?"

"It's nothing," Ye Wenting sniffled, taking the tissues to wipe her tears, her voice thick with emotion. "It's just... this piece is so moving. It made me a bit sad. This child is very talented. He plays so well, much better than our Ximo."

Her gaze remained locked on Cheng Feng on the screen, complex emotions churning inside her. That inexplicable sense of familiarity left her unsettled.

The nanny had been with Ye Wenting for many years and naturally knew of her late younger sister, the former Second Young Miss of the Ye family.

She glanced at the boy on TV and suddenly paused.

"Madam, this child looks so much like the Second Young Miss. The Second Young Miss used to love sitting like that too, looking exceptionally pretty, like a little fairy. It's such a pity about the Second Young Miss, gone so young..."

Halfway through her sentence, seeing Ye Wenting's reddened eyes, the nanny quickly shut her mouth.

Ye Wenting remembered the mudslide eighteen years ago. Back then, she was still at home waiting for her sister to return, planning to celebrate her birthday. But what she received was news of her sister's death—buried in the mudslide, her body crushed beyond recognition.

She had fainted from the shock back then, lying in bed for several days. When she woke up, all that was left before her was her sister's ashes. She covered her face, suppressed sobs escaping through her fingers.

After crying for a while, she dried her tears and looked back at the TV. The more she looked, the more this child resembled her sister.

But her sister had been gone for so long. If she had gotten married back then and had a child, that child would probably be about this age now.

"What's this child's name?" Ye Wenting asked softly.

The nanny was taken aback, looking at her. "Madam, are you planning to investigate this child?"

Ye Wenting shook her head. She hadn't thought of invading this child's privacy; she was just curious. "No, I'm just asking casually."

The nanny responded, "His name is Cheng Feng."

Ye Wenting nodded and murmured the name twice softly: "Cheng Feng. A good name—like 'braving the wind and waves,' fearless and determined."

Just then, Li Jianye returned home carrying his briefcase and sat down on the sofa.

Ye Wenting immediately tugged his arm, pointing at the TV. "Jianye, look quickly. This child is the spitting image of my sister—so endearing, with a face full of good fortune."

Li Jianye followed her gesture and looked at the screen. When he saw Cheng Feng's face clearly, his brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes instantly darkened.

After a long pause, he finally spoke calmly, "What a coincidence. There's a passing resemblance."

Ye Wenting sighed, her eyes reddening again. "Yes, very much so. He really could be my sister's son."

Li Jianye narrowed his eyes, his gaze gradually hardening. He clenched the briefcase on his lap tightly, then slowly released his grip after a moment.

He moved closer, sat down beside Ye Wenting, put an arm around her shoulders, and comforted her in a low voice, "Sweetheart, don't cry. The departed are gone. Your sister left while saving others—she's sure to be blessed in her next life."