Chapter Thirty: Bamboo Leaves Under Moonlight

The instrument Lin Ze was searching for was called a handpan drum. Its origins could be traced back to the ancient chime bells, and its sound was ethereal, melodious, and pure. The next song would be performed by Lin Ze alone, so the task of playing the handpan would fall to Su Zitan.

The two of them wandered through the city, searching all afternoon without success. Eventually, they heard that there might be one available in a famous cultural district of the city called the 999 Creative Block.

So, together with Xiao Qian, they made their way there.

Inside, there were youth hostels, bars, artists’ studios, and musician’s workshops. Lin Ze had a considerable fanbase in the city; they had barely entered before fans approached him for autographs. Fortunately, Lin Ze’s fans were polite—they asked quietly for his autograph and left without causing a disturbance.

All along the way, Lin Ze and Su Zitan chatted leisurely with viewers on the live stream.

“Lin, head to your right! There’s a handpan there! Someone’s playing ‘Moonlight Over the Lotus Pond’ on it!” read one of the comments.

Upon seeing this, Lin Ze and Su Zitan immediately headed to the right. After just a few steps, they heard the ethereal sound of the handpan, and following the music, Lin Ze soon found the shop.

The owner sat at the entrance, his hair in small braids and dressed in simple cotton and linen. From his hands came the gentle notes of “Moonlight Over the Lotus Pond.”

“That’s so beautiful,” Su Zitan whispered.

“It is. Never underestimate traditional music—thousands of years of heritage have distilled the wisdom and passion of our ancestors,” Lin Ze replied.

A little girl, no more than elementary school age, ran out from inside the shop, clutching a handpan. She rushed to stand before Lin Ze.

“Brother Lin Ze! Can I have your autograph?”

“Of course.”

Lin Ze took the pen she offered and signed his name on the underside of her handpan.

“Thank you, big brother! Sister, you sign too!”

The little girl resembled the shop owner, her features endearingly cute.

As the song ended, the owner looked up. “Hmm?”

“Oh! You must be Lin Ze!” he said, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Atu, and this is my little sister.”

“Did you compose that piece? It’s lovely!”

“Haha, thank you for—”

He was interrupted by a derisive snort from the owner of the neighboring shop.

The neighboring store also specialized in traditional instruments, displaying ocarinas and gourd flutes.

“I’ve heard the original—it’s so tacky. Is this really the best today’s musicians can compose?” remarked the neighboring shop owner, a man in his thirties, polishing a ceramic gourd flute as he spoke.

“What’s his problem?”

“I don’t get it—how is that song tacky? Just because it’s grand, it’s ‘tacky’?”

“Is he just trying to piggyback on the attention?”

As he spoke, his gaze wandered through the crowd, finally settling on Xiao Qian. He struck a pose in her direction, clearly hoping for some attention.

Atu shook his head. “Ignore him. Are you here to buy a handpan?”

“Yes, I’d like a fifteen-note, C-tuned handpan.”

“Alright, and what price range are you thinking?” Atu set the handpan on the table and headed inside to check the stock.

“Around a thousand…”

“The entertainment industry these days…” the neighboring owner said loudly, “some people rise to fame on their looks alone while those with genuine talent are overlooked.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Su Zitan frowned. “Are you talking about yourself? You’re talented but get ignored because you’re not good-looking?”

“I…” The man was caught off guard, his indignation abruptly stifled.

“That’s the Su Zitan we know—her comebacks are always on point.”

“If anyone bullies Lin, Sir Knight Su comes to the rescue!”

“I work for Su Zitan’s company and can honestly say our boss never smiles at the office. The one you see on TV isn’t the same person!”

“Alright, I’ll accept that you have talent,” Su Zitan said, gesturing toward Xiao Qian, who was filming. “There’s your camera. Go ahead, show us what you can do.”

“Su Zitan! Come see if you like this color!”

“Coming!” Su Zitan replied sweetly, hurrying into the shop.

The neighboring owner stood there, holding his gourd flute, with the camera pointed mercilessly at him, leaving him no graceful exit.

The handpan was of excellent quality, and Lin Ze and Su Zitan quickly paid for it. As they left, Su Zitan glanced back at the neighboring shop.

“We’re leaving now. Would you like to perform?”

In such a situation, how could he possibly perform?

The neighboring shop owner said nothing, picked up his stool, and retreated inside.

“We’ll be off, then,” Lin Ze said with a smile.

Atu nodded, saying farewell with his sister. “If there are no man-made damages, we offer a three-year warranty.”

“I thought this was the set-up for a face-off—like, he’d play a tune and then Lin Ze would outdo him.”

“You think Lin Ze can do everything?”

“I saw him teaching uncles and aunties in the park once—he really seems to know everything!”

Lin Ze noticed the comments and also spotted an old man on the street selling cheap gourd flutes.

He called the old gentleman over and bought a flute for twenty yuan.

“You actually know how to play?” Su Zitan was surprised. “I never realized you were this talented.”

“I just dabble,” Lin Ze replied modestly, smiling.

He tested a few notes on the flute. Though the instrument allowed for some pitch changes, it was poorly tuned.

“Alright, let me play ‘Bamboo Under the Moonlight’ for everyone.”

Holding the toy gourd flute, Lin Ze closed his eyes gently. Soon, the clear notes of the gourd flute drifted through the air.

A beautiful melody flowed from Lin Ze’s hands. Even the instrument’s off-key notes were skillfully adjusted by his breath and control.

The shop wasn’t far from where he played, and the vibrant, penetrating notes of the gourd flute carried easily.

The neighboring shop owner was puzzled—who was playing such a low-quality gourd flute? But the tune…

Curiosity got the better of him. He slipped out the back door of his shop, walked over, and stood at the alley’s entrance, where he saw Lin Ze standing by the roadside, playing a beautiful melody.

What a beautiful song.

In his mind, the music conjured the image of a bamboo grove beside a tranquil pond, where a lovely maiden stood. As the melody unfolded, she began to dance in the moonlight, her golden ornaments glinting in harmony with the rippling reflections in the lake.

He stood there, bathed in moonlight, feeling utterly unworthy.