<h4>Chapter 658: The Second Wave of Humiliation</h4>


    There was also a several-minute video showing a slender, little girl sitting in front of a piano. Her ming red rubber band created a stark contrast to her ebony hair, which was tied up in a ponytail. She was dressed exactly the same as she was now: ck sweatshirt and pants. Her duckbill capy atop the piano. Her features were strikingly beautiful with hints of youthfulness showing on her face. Everyone could easily tell that the girl was Gu Mang. A thirteen-year-old Gu Mang!


    Standing next to the piano was a man with well-defined features, and a gentle, elegant disposition. Even though the two of them bore some simrities to each other, the ways they carried themselves were very different. Gu Mang seemed rather aloof and impatient. Her thirteen-year-old self was clearly even more arrogant and untamed than she was today. In the video, she asked, “Must the piano be yed in such a soft and gentle manner? How boring.”


    The man smiled patiently at her. “How can you y it so that it sounds more interesting, then?”


    The old man standing next to him was the current president of the International Composer’s Association, Wen Zexing.


    Gu Mang did not answer his question. Instead, she ced her fingers on the keys for a moment before pressing down on one. The sound of the piano filled the spacious room and the air seemed to vibrate along with it. The next second, a smooth melody filled the piano room. The piece had a fast tempo and a bold style that broke from the orthodox style. It was a new approach that left people overwhelmed by its melody and it sounded exactly the same as the piece that was circting on the inte.


    Time told no lies. In the video, Gu Mang had some baby fat on her face, which confirmed that the video was taken much earlier than two years ago when Master Bi heard Gu Yin y the piece.


    The man’s eyes glowed as he looked at her when the music ended. A few seconds passed before he blinked his eyes and returned to his senses. “When did you write that piece?”


    Young Gu Mang looked very much like a female hooligan. She sat with a leg across her knee. “Four minutes ago.”


    Wen Zexing stared dumbly at her with his mouth wide-opened. With much difficulty, he asked, “President, is your daughter really thirteen years old?”


    The video ended there. Theizens knew how the man and Gu Mang were rted by now, which was aplete no-brainer. They were father and daughter!


    Gu Yin was two years younger than Gu Mang, which meant that she was only eleven back then. At that age, her piano skills were only average, so how could she possibly know how topose music? Plus, the video had exined everything clearly. The music was randomlyposed by Gu Mang.


    Once again, the matter took the inte by storm. There was even moremotion than before.


    [The music belongs to Gu Mang! She’s the one Master Bi wanted as his disciple! How did he end up with Gu Yin instead?!]


    [Even if he were mistaken, Gu Yin should know that the piece belongs to Gu Mang. It didn’t stop her from making use of her sister’s creation to get what she wants!]


    [Master Bi and the Piano Association imed that Gu Mang stole her younger sister’s creation and sold its copyright without her permission, yet it turns out that the piece that sold for a hundred million was actually randomlyposed by Gu Mang when she was thirteen!]


    [The Piano Association used their official Weibo ount to vilify Gu Mang earlier. Shouldn’t they make a public apology to her now? @PianoAssociation]


    [To the person who said that Gu Yin must be theposer of that piece since she had Master Bi’s and the Piano Association’s support, does your face hurt from the p of reality?]


    [Ow! Master Bi’s face must be hurting really badly after realizing that he hadshed out at theposer who he wanted most as his disciple for the sake of an imposter.]


    ...


    At the Xia family’s vi.


    Gu Yin had juste out of the bathroom when she heard her phone ringing nonstop. Frowning, she walked over to her phone and saw that the call was from An An. She answered the call as she sat on her bed and asked, “An An, you’re still awake?”


    “Was that piece written by Gu Mang?”


    When An An’s icy voice reached her ear, she stiffened and her gaze darted all over the ce. “Pardon?”


    “Check Weibo.” With that, An An hung up the call.