Both were heading to the piano room, and Xia Xi wanted to tag along—but she had more urgent business to handle first.

“Mu Yao, can I have your QQ number?”

Once Nangong Ruihui had walked off alone, Xia Xi stopped Mu Yao. No beating around the bush—she bluntly asked for her contact info.

“Huh? Does Sister Xia Xi have something to tell me?” Mu Yao was caught off guard by the sudden request.

“Cut the chatter. Are you giving it or not?” Xia Xi’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I’ll… give it…”

Mu Yao pouted her lips. *Asking for my contact and still so harsh…*

Xia Xi hadn’t meant to sound impatient—it was just her nature. She’d already been gentler with Mu Yao than she’d be with anyone else; others would’ve been pinned down for answers.

After getting the number, Xia Xi visibly relaxed, her expression effortlessly calm. Mu Yao was baffled. *I’m not even a guy…*

Yingshengya Academy placed almost no restrictions on electronic devices. Aside from banning them in class, teachers rarely interfered.

At that moment, Nangong Ruihui sat gracefully on the rectangular padded piano bench. Beneath her fingers, the grand piano gleamed in the window light—its pure black lacquer alone spoke of elegance. Below the stand lay a near-perfect bronze “mechanical maze.” Perfectly tuned, it stirred her desire to play.

“Yaoyao, this first piece is for you. Have you heard it before~?” Nangong Ruihui said, her care for Mu Yao unmistakable.

The prelude was brief yet enchanting. Black and white keys danced like silent sprites under her translucent fingertips—technique polished, never forced.

After barely half a minute, the melody swelled into its first climax. Muscle memory guided Nangong Ruihui through a studio-grade performance. Years of practice made consistency routine—she only hoped Mu Yao would feel the emotion woven within.

“I never knew he played this well…” Xia Xi sighed, utterly refreshed. A true feast for the ears.

“Of course Ruihui’s amazing! He’s ABRSM Grade 8 certified! Not just *The Truth That You Leave*—he can play sonata movements by Haydn, Chopin, even Beethoven backward with ease!” Mu Yao beamed with pride. After all, this piece was played just for her. How could her heart stay still?

She’d long wanted to hear Nangong Ruihui play—Zhou Yuan had told her all this. Today, a tiny wish came true.

“No wonder he caught your eye. I knew he wasn’t just some pervert,” Xia Xi nodded firmly.

“Pervert???”

“…Nothing.” Xia Xi bit her tongue—crude words she regretted. She didn’t want Nangong Ruihui thinking she’d badmouthed him.

“The music teacher’s running late, Yaoyao. Anything else you’d like to hear? I’ll keep playing,” Nangong Ruihui offered.

“*The Truth That You Leave* feels too sad. Play freely, Ruihui—I won’t disrupt your flow.”

“Alright. Next—*Wedding in a Dream*.”

She’d glossed over the last piece’s meaning. Secretly, she hoped Mu Yao would realize soon: their wedding could only ever exist in dreams. The truth was too heavy to speak. If Mu Yao understood now—good. Before she grew too attached. Nangong Ruihui was selfish: she cherished the joy Mu Yao brought, yet refused to hold her back. If she didn’t grasp it now, she’d never hint again.

Beauty and quiet sorrow wove together. Still melancholic—but Mu Yao would likely hear hope. And the real Nangong Ruihui didn’t want her to understand.

The cheerful melody began. Even Xia Xi, no piano expert, felt its gentle pull—like her heartbeat syncing to the rhythm.

Just as the main theme approached, a boy stumbled through the door. Nangong Ruihui’s playing cut off sharply.

“You’re here for me?” She recognized him—a student council member.

“Yes! President Nangong, your sisters are here! They were just—oh, they’re already…”

“Don’t joke. My sisters vanish for years—even Lunar New Year. How could they possibly… Sister Ling? Sister Jing?? How are you here?!”

Two young women stood at the door, sharing 60–70% of Nangong Ruihui’s features. One in black stockings, the other in white. Nangong Ruihui stayed seated, stunned. It had been three, maybe four years.

“How we got here? Disappointed to see Sister Jing?” The white-stockinged woman stepped closer; the other followed. “Exactly! We heard piano from afar—that style is unmistakably yours.”

Nangong Jing’s twin tails radiated youthful charm, making her seem younger than Nangong Ling’s neat buns.

Mu Yao glanced back—Xia Xi had vanished. Facing these sudden, stunning sisters, she felt flustered. *This feels familiar… I have three older brothers too.* She’d never known Nangong Ruihui had sisters.

“Ruihui, who’s that? Could she be your fiancée?” Nangong Jing leaned in, pointing.

“Sister Jing, must you start with that…” Nangong Ruihui tapped a black key shyly.

*Thump—*

“Seriously your fiancée?! Why didn’t that old man Nangong Yao arrange one for me too!” Nangong Jing flushed with excitement.

“Sister Jing… is it okay to call Dad ‘that old man’?” A black line of exasperation formed on Nangong Ruihui’s forehead.

“Exactly! You’re *our* ‘sweetheart boy’! We promised as kids to split Ruihui’s love between us—no backing out!” Nangong Ling chimed in.

“Don’t be so willful!” Nangong Ruihui sighed inwardly. *Why dig up childhood promises now?*

*So they’re siscon sisters…*

Mu Yao stuck out her tongue playfully, ready to slip away—but Nangong Ling pinned her in place with a leg. “No escaping~”

“Muah~ C’mere, let big sister kiss you! I’ve missed this~” Nangong Jing’s hands reached for Nangong Ruihui.

“Stop, Sister Jing. Did Sisters Cai and Qian not come?”

Mu Yao froze again. *Four sisters?? Seriously?! So… the Nangong Clan has only one boy—Ruihui?*