Did the maple trees turn red yet?

Chapter 4

Third Person POV:

The cold wind caused the crisp autumn leaves to swirl, creating a beautiful symphony. Yín Yùhuán sat on the ground, her hands busy supporting her violin, but her peach blossom eyes were locked onto Yún Lèiyuè's upturned phoenix gaze. Her sarcastic voice broke through Yún Lèiyuè's trance, bringing him back to reality. He coughed slightly to cover his embarrassment, his eyes wandering as his ears burned. Quickly regaining his composure, he looked toward her and said, “I wasn't staring; I was just admiring.”

Yín Yùhuán paused for a moment while putting her violin away, her eyes reflecting a hint of awe, most likely stupefied by his statement. “Care to explain what exactly you were admiring, Mr.?” she asked, swinging her violin case over her shoulder as she stood up.

“You—I mean your song. I was just admiring your song,” he replied, fumbling for words. “And by the way, my name is Yún Lèiyuè… not just Mr.”

Yín Yùhuán mentally rolled her eyes at his bold self-introduction. “Alright, Mr. Yún, I really appreciate you admiring my skill, but I have to get going now,” she said, turning to leave.

“But I wanted to learn more about that song,” he uttered impulsively as he saw her start to walk away. He didn’t want her to leave just like that. “It sounded so nostalgic and melancholic; it was beautiful. Can you please tell me more about it?” It was one of those rare moments when he finally uttered the word “please,” and with her, he had a hunch that there would be many more like this. Though he didn’t regret it.

Yín Yùhuán halted upon hearing his words, her heart softening at his request—perhaps because it involved the music she devotedly loved. She turned around, her gaze scanning him from head to toe as she walked closer. He wore a white shirt with the bottom tucked into sleek dark brown pants; the first button was undone, revealing his bobbing Adam's apple. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, and his strong arms exuded a sense of masculinity.

He had a striking, almost brooding presence, with dark, tousled hair that fell in soft waves across his forehead, contrasting against his pale skin. His willow-shaped eyebrows framed deep brown phoenix eyes, while his finely chiseled features boasted a straight, well-defined nose, high cheekbones, and a clean, angular jawline that conveyed quiet strength. His full lips, soft and slightly curved, added a touch of gentleness to his otherwise sharp appearance. ‘He is not bad,’ a silent thought resounded in her mind as she took in his appearance.

“Can you tell me more about this song?” he asked, feeling his palms grow clammy under her gaze. Yín Yùhuán was silent for a moment but then agreed, “Alright.” They both sat down near the pond, looking at their reflections in the still water. For Yún Lèiyuè, he was unwaveringly admiring her grace.

“This piece of music was written by Max Bruch in 1880 and is called 'Kol Nidrei.' Although it holds a lot of historical and religious significance, to me, it has intimate relevance. It creates waves of yearning and reflection in its listeners' hearts, intertwining feelings of loss and hope. For me, there are only a few such pieces that can evoke such raw emotions in the numb hearts of today's society.” Something flashed across her eyes as she explained, but Yún Lèiyuè, too engrossed in her voice, couldn’t catch it.

“Why does it hold personal significance for you, though?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Yín Yùhuán was taken aback by his audacity. “We just met, Mr. Yún, and you want me to share such personal details about myself? Seriously?”

“I just wanted to know more about you,” Yún Lèiyuè said, his voice reflecting how wronged he felt.

“I agreed to tell you about the song, not myself.”

“I understand, but can you please at least tell me your—” He was interrupted by a phone call. It was Yín Yùhuán's phone. She took it out of her tote bag and excused herself, walking a distance away for privacy. She glanced at her phone, which displayed “Dad” in bold letters. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call.

“Hello, Dad?”

(“It's been two days, Xiao Yu. Why haven't you been back home yet?”)

“Well, Dad, I was busy arranging my apartment, but I'll be visiting in an hour. Don’t worry.”

(“Alright, alright. Remember not to be late; your brother is really excited to meet you.”)

“_What about Mom, Dad?”

(“Xiao Yu, your mom… she’s also waiting for you, don’t worry.”)

“Really…?”

(“Yes, so remember to arrive on time, alright?”)

“Alright, Dad, I'll be back on time.”

She hung up the phone and looked toward the back of the man sitting awkwardly on the ground, his tall frame apparent. Taking a deep breath, she said, “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Yún, but I have to go back now.”

Yún Lèiyuè abruptly stood up and said quickly, “But I don't even know your name yet!”

“Maybe next time.”

“How are you so sure there's a next time, Miss?”

“Let’s see,” Yín Yùhuán replied as she turned around and started walking away, this time with no intention of stopping. Yún Lèiyuè was left standing there in a daze, his gaze never leaving her figure until she slowly faded behind the maple trees.