Chapter 469: Sentimental Value
Translator: Larbre Studio Editor: Larbre Studio
Xu Xiyan was silent. She knew it was a ridiculous request. Why would Xue Yating willingly hand her precious baby to someone else?
She would have to be insane to do that!
Xue Yating was most definitely not insane. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Jing Xi, if you want a violin, I can give you a better one. Surely it isn’t necessary for us to squabble over this specific violin?”
“But that violin has sentimental value for me.”
Xu Xiyan watched despairingly as Xue Yating placed the violin back into its case. She knew that it was futile: Xu Xiyan would never agree to her request.
“Oh? What sentimental value? Tell me. Who knows, I might change my mind if I find your explanation to be reasonable,” Xue Yating said jokingly.
“Because… it was left to me by my late mother. I want it back,” said Xu Xiyan softly. There was a faint glimmer of light in her eyes.
Xue Yating froze in the middle of shutting the violin case. She looked at Xu Xiyan incredulously. “Oh my god… Don’t tell me you’re Madam Jing’s daughter?”
Xu Xiyan did not say anything. She remained in her seat, quietly waiting. From certain angles, she looked very much like a younger version of her mother.
Xue Yating rubbed her eyes. She took a closer look at Xu Xiyan’s face, and paid extra attention to the way she carried herself. She grabbed Xu Xiyan’s hand in amazement. “How did I not see it? You’re a wonderful violinist, and your surname is Jing! Are you really Madam Jing’s daughter? Am I dreaming?”
She had not expected to meet Jing Ruyue’s daughter. Xue Yating’s heart swelled with emotion as tears gathered in her eyes.
She held Xu Xiyan’s hand, squeezing it tight as she talked of her own connection with Jing Ruyue, and what had led her to study music.
Xue Yating worshipped Jing Ruyue—she had been fanatically obsessed with her idol.
When she was a little child, her father had taken her to one of Jing Ruyue’s concerts. Even as a young girl, she had been awestruck by Jing Ruyue’s performance.
She had been blown away by the violinist’s masterful playing—it was as though she had been transported into a different world.
From that moment on, Xue Yating fell hopelessly in love with the violin. She began her arduous journey towards being a violinist, dreaming that one day, she, too, would be able to play in front of an international audience, just like Jing Ruyue. She would capture the hearts and imaginations of her audience with her music, just like her idol.
Jing Ruyue eventually gave up music to enter show business, and then lost her life in an accident. Xue Yating was saddened by the news and mourned her death for a very long time.
At the end of Xue Yating’s little speech, Xu Xiyan was surprised to discover that her own cheeks were wet with tears.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She said, with heartfelt gratitude, “Ms. Xue, thank you, thank you for keeping my mother alive in your memories.”
Xue Yating saw her tears. She handed Xu Xiyan a tissue as she said comfortingly, “I’m sorry. That must be a painful memory for you.”
Xu Xiyan smiled as she shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Xue Yating patted Xu Xiyan on the shoulder. She looked like she had just arrived at a decision. “Okay, Jing Xi, you’ve convinced me. I agree to your request. You’re Madam Jing’s daughter, after all, and it would be cruel of me to say no.”
“Thank you!”
This was an unexpected turn of events. Xue Yating’s willingness to part with her precious violin surprised Xu Xiyan.
“You don’t have to thank me, because I’m asking for something else in return,” Xue Yating said with a smile.
“What’s that?”
Xue Yating suddenly leaned her head upon Xu Xiyan’s shoulder and said playfully, “Let’s be sisters! You’re Madam Jing’s daughter. I would be honored and delighted if we could be good friends!”
Xue Yating was from a distinguished family. Her prestigious background, coupled with her proud, bossy personality, meant that she did not have any friends. To put it another way, no one was bold or presumptuous enough to try to be her friend.
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