With the personal push from the mayor, the Project progressed at an astonishing pace. Approvals, coordination, and interdepartmental cooperation all moved unusually smoothly, as if an invisible hand were clearing obstacles in advance.
Elsa and Sophia threw themselves into the design work with remarkable dedication, refining details day and night. By contrast, Jason himself seemed almost… detached.
The moment the project framework was settled, he began preparing to leave.
The reason was simple: the Piano Open Finals were about to begin.
He had promised Ava he would attend—and Jason Carter never broke a promise unless there was true force majeure.
"Junior, have you left yet?"
The moment Jason arrived at the airport, Ava's message popped up again.
Jason chuckled as he replied.
Jason:Why does it feel like you learned to nag from my mom after meeting her once? You ask me eight hundred times a day.
A few seconds later, a reply came.
Ava:I just miss you.
The usually reserved, scholarly Ava had somehow learned to act a little spoiled.
Jason took a photo inside his private jet and sent it over.
Jason:Already on the plane. I'll be there in an hour.
When Jason arrived, Ava was already waiting at the airport.
She stood there quietly, like a beauty who had stepped straight out of a classical painting.
An ivory silk blouse traced her graceful silhouette, a celadon brooch resting softly at her collar. The hem was tucked into a deep green long skirt, its folds flowing like water with each movement.
Sunlight outlined her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight nose, finally lingering at the gentle curve of her lips.
But what drew the eye most were her eyes.
Clear, dark, and luminous—still carrying a lingering ink-like elegance. The moment she spotted Jason, they softened instantly, as if they could melt at a touch.
Countless young men nearby stole glances at her—until they saw her walk straight toward a tall, handsome man and, without hesitation, lean into his arms with clear delight.
In that instant, several hearts shattered.
The speed of heartbreak perfectly matched the speed of infatuation.
Jason lowered his head slightly and teased, "Didn't you say you're sharing an apartment with your roommate right now?"
Ava's cheeks flushed faintly."Yes. I'm living with a room mate for now… but since you're here, we could rent something nearby."
"No need," Jason said casually, already guiding her toward the exit."I bought a place before coming. It's close to the competition venue. Had it cleaned already—we'll stay there."
Ava didn't object at all, following him obediently.
This was one of the most expensive cities in the country when it came to real estate. But if Jason said he bought a place, then he definitely had. What was astronomical to ordinary people was trivial to him.
Still—
When the luxury car stopped, Ava was visibly surprised.
And when Jason led her into a 980-square-meter penthouse, her surprise turned into genuine shock.
"Junior…" she couldn't help saying,"You didn't seriously buy a penthouse just to accompany me for the piano competition, did you? Isn't that… too extravagant?"
Jason replied lightly, "First, it's to accompany you. Second, since I'm here anyway, I might as well collect one."
He added casually,"The price dropped recently. This one was only 280 million."
Ava fell silent.
Only 280 million?
Was he even speaking the same language as ordinary humans?
Her thoughts hadn't fully caught up yet when Jason's arm settled naturally around her waist, pulling her closer. The world outside the window faded away, leaving only warmth and quiet closeness.
That night passed gently.
Later that evening, a well-dressed female manager came to the penthouse, holding a tablet and a printed document.
She discreetly glanced toward Ava, who was practicing piano nearby in a bathrobe, her posture elegant and focused.
With a respectful smile, the manager handed the document to Jason.
"Mr Carter, this is the final list for the Open Finals."
She lowered her voice slightly, her tone deferential.
"Please take a look. If you have any opinions regarding the competition arrangement or rankings, feel free to instruct us."
Jason took the document calmly, his expression unreadable.
The piano notes continued to flow through the room—clear, steady, and confident—
just like the person who was about to stand on the stage.
The female manager's meaning was obvious—the rankings could be adjusted.
There was no way around it.The world had always been this unfair.
Anyone who truly understood domestic piano competitions knew this well. Many award winners each year were students of familiar professors. Their skills might indeed be excellent—but to say there were no internal arrangements would be naïve. For those outside the circle, opportunities were inherently fewer.
And who was Jason Carter?
The largest sponsor behind.
He stood at the very top of the piano world.Naturally, he possessed the absolute right to speak.
Jason didn't even bother looking at the list. He said calmly,"Ava's ranking just needs to match her actual skill."
The female manager immediately nodded, her posture even more respectful."Of course. Miss Ava's ability is outstanding—she will naturally receive a ranking worthy of her strength."
Ava listened quietly from the side, fingers still moving across the keys.
To be honest, if she could choose, she wished the world were purer.
But she understood long ago that the piano world was a circle.
Before meeting Jason, even though her skills were clearly strong enough, she hadn't even been able to obtain a basic recommendation slot. Her professor simply wouldn't recommend her—no reason given, no explanation needed.
Since that was the case…
Why not make use of Jason's support?
She could ignore all the murky politics outside and focus solely on practicing piano with peace of mind.
That, too, was a kind of purity.
—
At the same time.
Two beauties were resting, preparing for the finals the next day.
Lily had already been eliminated but stayed behind to accompany her friend. While scrolling through her phone, she suddenly sat upright.
"Clara, I heard a lot of people are giving gifts to Professor Miller," she said in a low voice. "The winners every year are basically their students. Should we… also go give them something?"
Clara frowned.
She knew Lily meant well. And she also knew such things were common in society—like how spots in university galas could be arranged.
But she genuinely disliked this kind of thing.
To her, it polluted the purity of music.
"I don't want to," Clara said softly, shaking her head."I believe rankings should be decided by skill—not by gifts."
Lily sighed.
"I know what you're thinking. Honestly, why would I like doing this either? Professor Miller, Professor Jack… they all have that uncomfortable arrogance people in power have. Having to flatter them, fawn over them with gifts—just thinking about it makes me sick."
She paused, then spoke more seriously.
"But this is how the world works. If you don't give gifts, you probably won't get a good ranking. If you don't get a good ranking, you might never get your break."
"My own skill is average, so it's fine for me," she added bitterly."But for you? You clearly have the ability. Wouldn't it be such a waste if you can't get ahead?"
Clara's heart trembled.
She suddenly imagined a future where she never made it—where piano couldn't support her livelihood,where she was forced into business or an office job she disliked,where practice time grew less and less,until one day, the piano sat in a forgotten corner, gathering dust.
Just thinking about that future made her chest tighten.
Yet… asking her to go give gifts?
She still couldn't take that step.
It felt even more unbearable—more humiliating—than failure itself.
Besides, she had heard that gift-giving had its own unspoken rules. It wasn't something you could succeed at just because you wanted to.
After a long silence, Clara finally made her decision.
"I won't go," she said quietly."I'll rely on my own strength. Even if the road is harder."
Lily opened her mouth, then closed it again, saying nothing more.
—
What Clara didn't know was that at this very moment, in the same hotel, a middle-aged man was standing outside Professor Miller's door.
Knock. Knock.
The man bore a faint resemblance to Clara.
He was her father.
The door opened.
hIS face instantly broke into an ingratiating smile, his tone warm and overly familiar.
"Professor Miller! Do you remember me?"He laughed awkwardly."Ah—how is it that you look even younger today?"
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