“No, I want to go back,” she suddenly refused.
“What are you saying?” He squinted in disbelief.
“Please take me back, back to that house. I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
He stood still, his ice-blue eyes silently watching her petite figure wrapped in his black cloak step further away until she disappeared at the end of the golden hall.
The fire spread quickly and fiercely, causing severe damage to the rooms on the second floor. The situation on the first floor and in the basement was somewhat better, with only the walls blackened by smoke. After a day of emergency repairs, some rooms were basically usable again.
Khanyi returned to the villa once more. Living in this house, she could enter every room with peace of mind, except for the study; she dared not step inside even once. She feared the black piano, feared the crisp sound it made, as if she could hear the “crack, crack” of her own bones breaking.
But the sound of the piano clearly rang out again, playing the melody of “What a Beautiful Jasmine Flower.” Khanyi instinctively looked at her hands. Although they could still perform basic movements, she could no longer play the piano. Due to a tendon rupture, her ten fingers could no longer grasp the precise rhythm or traverse the wide range of notes. The music was beautiful and lyrical, not the sound of a piano, but that of a violin. Who could be playing this melody of her hometown in the night? The strings resonated smoothly and subtly, rich and pure. Drawn in by the melodious and lyrical music, she stepped into this room filled with countless terrifying memories.
The study was unlit, and under the tranquil moonlight, a tall, slender figure stood. He held the violin against his collarbone, gently resting his chin on it, his left shoulder slightly raised, and his right hand skillfully drew the bow. A series of notes swayed out from the gentle friction between the strings and the bow, echoing in the moonlit air, like delicate jasmine petals falling softly onto the water’s surface.
He slowly lowered the violin from his shoulder, holding it in one hand and the bow in the other, standing upright by the windowsill. He did not speak, only quietly gazed at her with his ice-blue eyes. Outside, under the night sky, the moonlight cast a clear glow over his golden hair, his broad shoulders, and slender waist, enveloping him in a faint halo.
She suddenly realized she had been staring at him for too long, as if a piece of music had lasted an eternity, yet it felt like just a fleeting moment. She tried hard to avert her gaze from him, but had to admit a fact: her eyes had already been conquered by him. Not just her eyes; the melodious tune of the violin still echoed in her ears.
He put down the violin and smiled at her, parting his lips as if reciting poetry, but what came from his mouth were the lyrics of the song.
What a beautiful jasmine flower
What a beautiful jasmine flower
This beauty in full bloom scents the air
and deserves lots of praise for its sweet and white
Let me pick some flowers
and send to others
Oh, jasmine flowers, jasmine flowers
After reciting these lines, a hint of awkwardness appeared on his lips. “I know that English is insufficient to convey the essence of this song. Please forgive me; I cannot translate it completely into German, and my African is not good enough to sing it.”
Upon hearing his words, she lifted her head and inadvertently met his gaze for a second. He restrained his smile, and the ice-blue in his eyes released a pure, cold flame. She knew that the temperature of that flame could melt her in an instant, so she chose to lower her head, fixating on the cracks in the floor, determined not to look into his eyes again. Yet he continued to gaze at her, his palm gently caressing her cheek.
“My angel, you are as delicate, lovely, pure, and fragrant as the jasmine flower in the lyrics,” he spoke to himself, “I know you must hate me deep down.”
She turned her face away, neither answering nor denying, but her chest was heaving violently.
So he continued to speak as if to himself, “Please forgive me for everything I’ve done to you. I have left scars on your feet, preventing you from dancing, and broken your fingers, preventing you from playing the piano. But all of this is because of love. Yes, because I love you.
Although at that time, I did not understand the intense throbbing buried deep in my heart that could erupt at any moment… I had no reason to approach you, so I could only use brutality to break open your heart. I could not bear anyone sharing your beauty, so I chose to kill everyone who tried to get close to you, even if it meant destroying you.”
She kept her head down, not seeing the expression in his eyes as he spoke these words. Suddenly, he pulled her close, gripping her shoulder tightly, causing her pain.
She heard him continue to say above her forehead, “Because I realized I have fallen in love with you. I whip you, torment you, just to prove that I do not love you. But love is not a mathematical formula; it cannot be proven by logic and reason. The harsher I punish you, the more uncontrollably I love you…”
