I was the most devoted follower of Aria Johnson. For ten years, I transformed her from an unknown talent into a world-renowned pianist. Yet, when she reached the pinnacle of success, I chose to walk away. Everyone called me a fool. Only I knew that it was time to end this decade-long secret love. Later, the internet exploded with videos of the top pianist’s engagement party—Aria Johnson, treading on the shards of her million-dollar wedding dress, searching for me with tear-filled eyes. When I submitted my resignation, Aria’s slender fingers paused on the piano keys. She turned to me, her beautiful eyes filled with confusion: “Why?” Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window of the music room, I struggled to keep my voice steady: “Miss Johnson, I’m not getting any younger. It’s time for me to settle down.” After a pause, I added: “Recently, a relative back home introduced me to a suitable match.” To ensure a smooth resignation, I fabricated a harmless lie. Aria’s fingers tapped lightly on the keys, a habit she had when agitated. Scattered notes echoed in the room, as if telling a story. Seeing her slightly frustrated expression, a bittersweet sense of satisfaction welled up inside me. After a long moment, Aria placed the resignation letter on the piano: “I can give you a vacation. Please reconsider the resignation.” At that moment, my resolve wavered. A voice kept tempting me: “Stay, stay, and you can always be by her side.” But reason told me: “Simon, she’s getting engaged to Xavier. Pining for a married woman is not right.” My hand hesitated in the air for a long time, but ultimately, I didn’t take back the letter: “Being a manager is too demanding. After marriage, I want a more stable life.” “I’ll hand over all my work properly. I’m sorry, Miss Johnson.” With that said, Aria didn’t press further, only saying softly: “I understand. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.” Before I left the music room, Aria had already immersed herself back into her world of piano. To her, I was probably just the most competent among her many staff members. That day, I sat in the break room, staring at her concert photo on the wall, allowing myself to let my mind wander for the first time. In the past, I was always so busy that I barely had time to drink water. I had to handle her performance schedules and take care of her daily needs. I had to be available at all times, ready to rush to her side at a moment’s notice, single-handedly doing the work of multiple people. Of course, she compensated me generously, allowing me to buy a house in the city over the years. Charlie called my name several times before I snapped back to reality. “Simon, Miss Johnson said to go to the club first to set up tonight’s party.” The evening party was to celebrate Yvette Young’s return from the Vienna Conservatory. All the attendees were from Aria’s social circle. The young generation of elite social circles, born with silver spoons in their mouths, had their noses in the air. Logically, their circle should have been exclusive, but there was no helping it—I was simply too capable. A manager who could both take care of everyone’s emotions and arrange events perfectly was truly rare. Upon arriving at the club, I immediately immersed myself in the preparations. From the vintage of the wine to the placement of cutlery, and even the dietary restrictions of each guest, I arranged everything meticulously. “Replace the champagne with sparkling water, Mr. Leaf is on the wagon.” “Turn up the air conditioning, Mrs. Chu gets cold easily.” “Remember to prepare aged Pu’er tea, Miss Han loves it.” As night fell, guests began to arrive. Yvette was the first to arrive, greeting me as soon as she saw me: “When will Aria get here?” I glanced at my watch, answering cautiously: “She’s still rehearsing at the Vienna Concert Hall. She should be here in about an hour.” She slumped onto the leather sofa, fatigue evident in her eyes, her complexion slightly pale. I had the staff lower the music volume and brought over a cashmere blanket: “The autumn night is chilly. Please rest for a while, the others won’t be here for some time.” She took the blanket, joking: “Why don’t you stop working for Aria and become my butler instead? I’ll double your salary.” In this circle, there were too many sycophants, which made my neither obsequious nor arrogant attitude particularly precious. I joked back: “Thank you, Miss Young. At least I’ll have a backup plan if I ever lose my job.” As the night deepened and the lights brightened, all the guests arrived. Aria arrived in a black evening gown, gracefully walking in on high heels, exuding elegance with a hint of coolness. I took her coat, thinking this might be the last time I’d serve her. After several rounds of drinks, I seized the opportunity to announce my resignation to everyone. Raising my glass, I sincerely said: “Thank you all for your care over the years. Until we meet again.” A moment of silence fell over the table, then Yvette raised her glass to break the quiet: “To be honest, at first we thought you had ulterior motives towards Aria. Now it seems we were overthinking it.” Everyone understood the implication of her words. After all, Aria’s previous managers had all been fired for confessing their feelings to her. Later, she simply hired only female managers, but surprisingly, even a male assistant secretly passed her a love letter, which became a joke for a while. Someone teased: “I didn’t think anyone could resist Aria’s charm.” Aria elegantly sipped her wine, chuckling softly: “How boring.” After dinner, a few people gathered to drink and chat. During the conversation, Yvette casually asked: “Aria, I heard Mr. Yang is quite interested in you?” My hand froze, the motion of pouring wine for Aria suspended in mid-air. After a moment, she answered nonchalantly: “It’s just an arranged marriage. Marrying anyone is the same.” In their circle, marriage had always been a bond of interests, with feelings being the least important factor. It seemed she had accepted this arrangement, fulfilling her family’s expectations without question. I had met Xavier Yang. A rising star in the business world, young and promising, indeed a good match. How I wished Aria could have a different ending, but reality often disappoints. The party continued late into the night, with the guests’ drivers waiting for a long time. Only Aria’s driver was delayed due to an unexpected issue. So we stood at the entrance of the club, our shadows elongated by the streetlights. These moments of being alone were the most dangerous, as those suppressed feelings always threatened to burst forth. But Aria just stood quietly, the alcohol making her less aloof than usual. Soon, the driver arrived. Aria turned to look at me: “Want to come along?” I shook my head, putting on a polite smile: “Thank you, Miss Johnson, but my fiancée is on her way here.” She nodded and gracefully slipped into the car. Finally alone, I loosened my tie and leaned against the edge of a planter. For a moment, I didn’t know where to go or what to do. The autumn rain came unexpectedly, fine droplets falling coldly on my suit. I stood by the street waiting for a cab, which was hard to come by in this high-end neighborhood. …… Due to road construction, the driver had to take a detour. Aria didn’t expect to see Simon again. He stood in the rain, his suit jacket draped over his arm, looking somewhat forlorn. She was slightly taken aback, having never seen the usually meticulous Manager Shaw so casual. At the company, he always wore a well-pressed suit, his tie invariably knotted impeccably at his neck. She had encountered too many men who deliberately showcased their charm, loosening their ties, exposing their collarbones and abs, pretending to be casual in front of her. But Manager Shaw was different. His professional competence and perfectly measured demeanor had made her decide to keep him by her side. As the car was about to pass, the driver in the front seat spoke up: “Do you want to give Manager Shaw a ride?” Aria’s gaze remained calm as she replied indifferently: “Never mind.” She had a poor impression of his tardy fiancée. Although Manager Shaw was usually astute, he seemed to lack judgment when it came to matters of the heart. But this was his personal affair, and she shouldn’t interfere too much. In the distance, what seemed to be Aria’s car flashed by, disappearing in an instant. Perhaps it was just my imagination. In such a high-end residential area, people walking like me were indeed rare. The rain had soaked my clothes. My legs were numb by the time I finally hailed a taxi. It was late when I got home, the silence in the apartment suffocating. I always told people that I had a perfect family, a deeply loved fiancée, and many close friends. Others said my life was perfect, enviable. But in reality, I had nothing – no family, no lover, no friends. In middle school, my dad was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer. Shortly after the surgery, the cancer recurred. One ordinary morning, my mom left as usual, never to return. She took all our savings, leaving behind only my critically ill father and young me. Upon learning of this blow, my dad was surprisingly calm, silently accepting treatment. When his condition improved during hospitalization, he would even cook for me. That day after school, I came home to find the table full of dishes, my dad sitting across from me with a gentle smile. For some reason, a sense of unease welled up. The dishes emitted an unusual smell. I noticed the newly bought bottle of pesticide in the kitchen. At that moment, I realized that even terminally ill people could summon incredible strength, rendering me motionless. Taking advantage of his violent coughing fit, I broke free from his grip and fled to the rooftop in panic. My dad, tears streaming down his face, reached out to me, his voice choked: “Son, this world is too cruel. I can’t bear to leave you to face it alone.” “Let’s go together. In the next life, we’ll be father and son again.” Tears blurred my vision. I was exhausted, longing to smell the familiar tobacco scent on my dad’s body once more. Perhaps ending it all wouldn’t be so bad. After all, there seemed to be no hope in living. On the wind-swept rooftop, my dad’s embrace was the only warmth. He held my hand tightly as we slowly approached the edge. Just as we were about to fall, a pair of slender yet strong hands firmly grabbed me. She held onto me tightly, refusing to let go no matter how much I struggled. Swaying in the fierce wind, I only remember those eyes shining with determination. I survived, but my dad was gone forever. The person who saved me was Aria Johnson. She not only gave me life but also gave me a reason to keep living— To repay her kindness. I felt guilty for letting my father down. At that time, I was like a drowning man, desperately trying to grasp at a lifeline. And Aria was my beacon of hope. When the rescue team arrived, I tightly held her hand, looking up and asking: “How can I thank you?” The 14-year-old Aria looked down at me and said seriously: “Just come find me in the future.” From that night when I lost my father, my life seemed to come to a standstill, with only Aria as my driving force to move forward. Tonight, I was once again awakened by nightmares, reliving past events. In the dream, my father questioned why I had abandoned him, and my mother’s cold gaze as she left still pained me. I woke up drenched in sweat, my throat too hoarse to make a sound. The thermometer showed 101.8°F. Usually, I might have just taken some fever medicine and continued working, pretending nothing was wrong. But this time, I decided to take a sick day and really think about the direction of my life. …… Aria arrived at the music room to find that Simon had called in sick. She frowned, her impression of his fiancée worsening. Assistant Lily temporarily took over Simon’s duties, bringing Aria a cup of rose tea. Aria elegantly took a sip, her expression unchanged. The tea was weaker than usual, but she didn’t comment, simply putting down the cup and not drinking anymore. During the morning rehearsal, she made a mistake. Fortunately, she knew this piece by heart, avoiding a bigger issue. The room temperature was slightly high, the humidifier running continuously, causing her throat to feel dry. By the end of the day, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what went wrong, she felt like something was missing. For the first time, Aria seriously thought about Simon. She rarely paid attention to him normally, as he was always so low-key. He handled everything just right, like spring rain nourishing all things, silently and imperceptibly. It was as if she had never been there, yet everything was perfect. She frowned slightly, already the second time today. It was all because of Simon’s unworthy fiancée, who had snatched away her most capable manager. …… After tossing and turning all day, I still couldn’t figure out which direction to take. Like a lost butterfly, unable to find its way home in the dark night. The next morning, I still went to the music room as usual. As I opened the door, Lily nervously approached me, lowering her voice: “Miss Johnson isn’t in a good mood this morning. She didn’t even touch her favorite rose tea.” Yesterday’s cup of tea was still on the windowsill. I gently sniffed it and told Lily: “Use six fresh roses, water at 176°F, steep for three minutes. Not a minute more or less.” I carefully demonstrated each step of making the tea, with Lily observing closely. As the floral fragrance filled the air, Aria walked in. For a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of tenderness in her eyes as she looked at me, and a hint of a pout on her lips. The handover of work was far more complicated than anticipated. I had numerous tasks at hand, making it difficult to transfer everything at once. Moreover, Aria had always been demanding, requiring meticulous attention to every detail of her daily life. I decided to get a notebook and record everything from adjusting the temperature in the music room to coordinating her performance outfits. This delay pushed back the originally planned one-month handover, resulting in a situation I had hoped to avoid. Accompanying Xavier Yang to the old mansion. Harboring inappropriate feelings for Aria, I felt guilty facing her future husband, even though I had done nothing wrong. Xavier wore a custom-tailored suit, a understated yet luxurious Patek Philippe on his wrist, his hair impeccably styled, every gesture exuding the aura of a successful businessman. I put on my professional smile and greeted him: “Mr. Yang, Miss Johnson arranged for me to pick you up.” On the way, Xavier kept asking about Aria, understandably nervous about getting engaged to someone he had never met. Sensing his anxiety, I gently reassured him: “Miss Johnson is very kind. You needn’t worry, Mr. Yang. If you have any concerns, feel free to ask me.” He looked at me gratefully. We chatted casually until we reached the old mansion. I had intended to leave after dropping him off. However, Mrs. Johnson, Aria’s grandmother, called me back. She was a renowned iron lady in the music world. Despite being in her seventies, she remained spirited, with piercing eyes. “Simon, where’s Aria?” Aria hadn’t come? I maintained my composure, answering cautiously: “There were some last-minute changes in the rehearsal schedule. Miss Johnson might be a bit late.” Mrs. Johnson snorted coldly, instructing me to make sure to bring her. I had witnessed how Mrs. Johnson punished Aria before, forcing her to practice piano for six hours straight until her fingers bled. Even now, Aria’s fingertips still bore those scars. After leaving, I immediately called Aria, thankfully getting through on the third try. I anxiously asked for her location, but she remained silent for a long time, only softly calling my name: “Simon.” Her voice was a bit slurred, as if she had been drinking. I could hear melodious piano music in the background. I instantly knew where she was and rushed there— I found Aria leaning against a grand piano in a bar, several glasses of whiskey in front of her, her long black hair cascading in the dim light. Hearing footsteps, she looked up slightly, her gaze hazy yet still cool, maintaining a bit of sobriety in her drunken state. “You’re here? Wait a moment, I’ll finish soon.” She patted the piano bench, gesturing for me to sit down: “Keep me company for a while.” The Johnson family’s concert hall stood in a bustling area, its lights glittering in the night, the classical European-style architecture exuding an air of nobility. Aria suddenly spoke: “Do you think it’s beautiful?” My gaze was still fixed on her perfect profile, and I blurted out without thinking: “Beautiful.” I blushed immediately, fortunately, she didn’t notice and continued speaking: “The surface glamour is just decoration for a cage. Even the most brilliant stage can’t confine a truly free soul.” She said this with a smile, but her tone was unusually serious. It was said that the Johnson family’s music business wasn’t entirely above board, with some shady deals behind the scenes, only recently starting to transform. Over the past decade, I had witnessed her step-by-step ascent to the pinnacle of the international piano world. The setbacks and pressures she endured during this time were something outsiders could never know. I couldn’t help but ask: “Are you happy?” The word “happy” seemed to linger on her lips. She chuckled softly but didn’t answer directly. Instead, she looked at me and said: “Your fiancée doesn’t deserve you.” I was stunned. She immediately lowered her head: “I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.” Finishing her last sip of alcohol, Aria stood up, instantly reverting to the noble and elegant pianist she was known to be. On the way back, I kept pondering the meaning behind her words. After much thought, I still couldn’t understand, just as I never understood why she had appeared alone on the rooftop of that dilapidated apartment building years ago. But none of this mattered anymore. I was about to leave this place. From now on, separated by mountains and waters, we would rarely meet again. It was raining on the day I left my job. The rain in the north is always heavy and sudden, pitter-pattering on the ground as if trying to release all emotions. I sat in the music room, quietly packing up my belongings from the manager’s office. I had spent nearly ten springs and autumns in this position, transforming from a naive youth into a capable manager. I knew that every day at 3 PM, sunlight would stream through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the Steinway piano in a warm glow. I also knew that if I stood in the corner of the music room, I could hear Aria’s breathing as she practiced. These fragments were once the most precious solace in my life, but now, it was time to let go. The debt of gratitude had been repaid. Ten years of time, the days ahead would be for Xavier to protect. Lily watched me with reddened eyes. I ruffled her hair, smiling as I said: “Don’t be like this. We’ll meet again someday.” But deep down, I knew this goodbye was likely forever. This city held too many bitter memories. I needed to find a new beginning. As I left, a part of me still held onto a glimmer of hope, but ultimately, I couldn’t see her one last time. After resigning, I shut myself in my rented apartment and slept for days on end, as if trying to make up for all the sleep I had missed over the years. I bought alcohol and turned the stereo up to maximum volume. The stereo played Aria’s piano pieces. I laughed, laughed like a madman. After laughing, I sat numbly on the floor, staring blankly at the room full of sheet music. When I was young, my greatest wish was to survive. As long as I lived well, my dad wouldn’t jump off the building. Later, after dad was gone, my wish was to work hard so that mom wouldn’t give up on herself. Then mom left too, and I poured all my energy into work, wishing only to contribute to Aria’s music career. Now, I had lost my direction, not knowing where to go. Just as I was lost in thought, the doorbell suddenly rang. Looking through the peephole, I was shocked to see Aria standing outside.
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