Chapter 1

I was born on a June morning, when it was still steamy. My younger brother Liam was born two minutes after me. Mom told me that when the doctor picked us up, my sister cried like a robin and I lay still. Looking back, I think even my first cry was a lack of courage to face this world.

Ever since I could remember, the house I lived in always had two sounds existing in parallel: my mother's singing and my father's sighing.

My mother is an opera singer, her voice is high, clear and distant like the sound of a bell falling into a lake, hearing it once is enough to remember for a lifetime. Sometimes, when she practiced, Liam and I would lie down on the floor, imagining some distant Europe, with white snow, towering churches, and brightly lit shows.

But that's just a fantasy. Our real house is an old apartment on the fifth floor, the walls are damp, the ceiling is patchy like the sky has been scratched by someone. The kitchen always smells of burning chili and lemongrass, and during the rainy season, water drips down like a smoldering curtain.

My father is an actor. A once famous actor. At least before us. People say he changed his career to start a family, but in reality he had no choice. When the investor learned that my mother was pregnant, my father's role was immediately cut. The market is cruel, capitalism is more cruel.

When I was young, I didn't understand anything.

I only know that my father often held his head and sat in the dark for a long time.

And then one afternoon, my father held my hand and walked down the street to an old pawn shop. I clearly remember the cold metal vapor and the dim light shining on other people's forgotten belongings. Watches, cameras, wedding rings, music players and at the end of the wall is a row of old violins hanging at an angle.

Dad said:

"Lily, try choosing a violin."

I had never held a violin, never thought I was suitable for music, but in that moment, I felt like I was sucked into a strange space. I pointed to the oldest guitar.

The shop owner raised his eyebrows:

"This tree's string is broken and its face is dented. Go get another tree."

Dad shook his head

"We took that tree."

I hugged the violin to my chest. It's lighter than I thought. The smell of wood, the smell of dust, the smell of time... blend together into something very real, very human.

My mother looked at the violin when my father brought it home. She was silent for a long time. Then she asked in a tired voice but still trying to keep it gentle:

"Where does the money come from?"

Dad didn't answer. Just sit down next to me and say:

"Lily, try playing."

I sat down and put the violin on my shoulder. I tried pulling. The first sound was as harsh as torn paper.

Liam frowned, his mother gently covered his ears.

But Dad smiled, a rare smile like a streak of sunlight entering a dim window.

"Come on baby."

I pulled a second, third...seventh time

When the string vibrates slightly, the sound is no longer sharp but begins to soften. Dad put his hand on my head:

"Do you hear? It's talking to you."

I looked up at my father.

For the first time, I saw his eyes truly light up.

That night, dad took me to the rooftop. From above, the city lights become smaller like a swarm of fireflies. The cold wind blew, my hair was messy, the sound of the guitar echoed in the air like melting dew.

Dad stood behind him and said:

"If you want, music will take you to a better place than this."

I still don't understand. But I believe

Because for the first time in his life, my father did not drink alcohol.

And my mother stood leaning against the railing, looking up at the two of us with strangely peaceful eyes. And Liam held his chin and looked at me playing the piano, his dark eyes seemed to bring the whole sky inside.

When I pulled the last rope, the wind suddenly stopped.

Quiet city.

The house is quiet.

My family is quiet.

I think:

"Maybe this is music"

From that night, I belonged to the violin and music.

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