Chapter 307

Chapter 307 Sabotage on Stage
It was true.
Back then, the old man had insisted she was a rare talent, chasing after her until she agreed to learn the pipa.
She had studied for a while, but after Rebecca was brought back to the family, Scarlett’s willpower had crumbled. Her practice had nearly stopped altogether.
“I don’t even know if I can still do it.”
Sharon laughed.
“No one cares about that now–it’s all just for show. Besides, you’re the star graduate. You have to perform.”
Scarlett: “…”
Fine. She had no choice but to return to the old craft.
Because she’d be playing the pipa, her dress options narrowed.
The crystal chandelier above the auditorium scattered flecks of light like fallen stars.
Scarlett stood in the wings, fingers gliding across the polished surface of her pipa. The carved lotus vines on its redwood body seemed ready to come alive in the draft.
“Nervous? ”
Sharon handed her a bottle of warm water, her voice bubbling with excitement. “You’re the only one in our department who made star graduate. All eyes are on you.”
Scarlett smiled faintly, twisting the cap open. “Not too much. Just… the strings felt a little off when I tuned yesterday.”
She plucked the thickest string. The hum carried a faint drag, subtle but wrong.
Sharon leaned closer. “Loose string? Should we call maintenance?”
“No time.” Scarlett glanced at the announcer on stage. “It’s almost my turn.”
As she lifted the pipa and walked toward the side of the stage, she caught sight of Emma and Quinny lingering near the curtain.
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Emma’s fingers clenched a handkerchief so tightly her knuckles whitened. When she noticed Scarlett’s gaze, she turned away quickly—but not before a twisted smile slipped across her lips.
Quinny, bold as ever, met Scarlett’s eyes with a false sweetness. “Good luck, Scarlett. Don’t embarrass our department.”
Scarlett said nothing, only gave a cool nod.
As she stepped onto the stage, a faint scoff drifted from behind.
The spotlight hit her like molten gold, spilling warmth across her white qipao dress.
Polite applause rippled from the audience. Scarlett lifted her eyes. Among the dark sea of faces, a few familiar ones shone bright.
Sharon in the front row, waving wildly. Jack leaning back, eyebrow raised. Colt in uniform, posture straight as a pine.
And in the center of the guest seats–Jasper, a cigarette unlit between his fingers, his gaze locked on her. His eyes seemed calm, like ice over a deep lake, yet beneath them surged hidden
currents.
Scarlett drew a steadying breath and sat. The chill of the wood seeped through her dress, anchoring her nerves.
“Next, a solo performance by star graduate Scarlett–the pipa piece Breakdown.”
As the announcer’s voice faded, silence fell.
Scarlett lifted her hand, fingers brushing the strings.
The first note struck–and something was wrong.
The bass string buzzed with a grating rasp, as if scraped against something. Her brow knit, but her fingers never stopped.
Breakdown was a piece of extremes. The first half, calm as a hidden current. The second, fierce as clashing steel.
She shifted her touch, pressing the strange noise down, reshaping it into rhythm.
In the shadows backstage, Emma and Quinny exchanged a glance, their drinks trembling in
their hands.
They had worked hard to tamper with her instrument–not just simple wear, but deep grooves sanded into the underside of the string. As soon as she struck hard on the high register, the
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string would snap, embarrassingly and irreparably.
“Think she’ll cry on the spot?” Quinny whispered, her voice tight with anticipation. “The star graduate humiliated in front of everyone–it’ll be perfect.”
Emma smirked. “Cry? She won’t even be able to stand. With Jasper and Jack watching, let’s see if they still rush to shield her.”
But just then, the music on stage surged.
Scarlett’s fingers blurred, plucking with a sudden ferocity. The section that should have flowed gently now roared with storm and fire, a calm lake exploding into towering waves.
In the audience, Jasper leaned forward slightly.
He knew music, enough to see she had shifted the entire arrangement.
Instead of letting the flawed string break her, she had seized that dissonance, bending the piece into something sharper, wilder–her own creation.
“Not bad,” Jack whistled. “The girl’s got guts.”
Colt frowned, eyes narrowing toward the backstage area.
His instincts screamed. That noise hadn’t been an accident. It was sabotage. Official source is.net