INT. OLD HOUSE – MORNING

A hand inserts a key into a heavy metal door. As the key turns, the door creaks open with a creaky noise. A woman with long hair steps inside, followed by three or four movers dressed in blue work uniforms.

WOMAN

Just get rid of everything that's packed.Move the rest.

MOVER

Got it.

The room is filled with furniture covered in plastic sheets and fabric. A thick layer of dust coats the floor, leaving visible footprints with each step. The woman glances around the space. In the corner, a piano stands quietly, its bench also covered in dust.

She picks up a cloth draped over the sofa and spreads it over the bench before sitting down. Slowly, she lifts the piano lid and ties her hair back. Placing her hands on the keys with proper posture, she gently presses a few notes. The sound is slightly out of tune.

INT. OLD HOUSE – MORNING – BEDROOM DESK

A small hand gently presses down, one by one, on the black-and-white keys drawn on a sheet of paper. At the doorway, the mother passes by, pauses, and watches the scene in silence for a long moment.

INT. CLASSROOM – NOON

The young girl clutches the hem of her dress tightly, her expression a mix of nervousness and anticipation as she looks up at the piano teacher-a suited man with glasses sitting across from her.

Her mother gently nudges her forward. The girl steps up to the piano and sits down on the bench. The black and white keys are right before her. Unable to resist, she lightly presses a few notes. Realizing what she's done, she quickly pulls her hands back.

TEACHER

Let's start with music theory.

The teacher places a theory book on the music stand. As he flips through the pages, the notes inside become denser and more intricate.

INT. CLASSROOM – NOON

The young girl's fingers glide effortlessly across the piano keys, her body subtly rising and falling with the rhythm of the music.

TEACHER (V.O.)

Excellent.Very good.

Standing to the side, the girl's mother, dressed in casual clothing, smiles with satisfaction. The teacher glances at the clock on the piano and rises from his seat.

TEACHER

You're improving quickly. Make sure to practice the assigned pieces.

The girl nods happily and begins gathering the sheet music from the piano. Just then, the door swings open. A woman in a tailored suit and dark sunglasses steps in. Behind her stands a young boy, barely reaching her waist. He hesitates at the doorway, timidly glancing around the room.

WOMAN IN SUNGLASSES

Teacher, the international competition is next week, and he really needs more guidance right now! I can't even stand listening to him play. There's no way he's winning first prize like this!

The girl's mother glances at her daughter, who is taller than the boy. A thoughtful expression crosses her face. Without a word, she takes her daughter's hand and quietly leads her out of the classroom.

INT. ELEVATOR – DAY

The mother and the young girl stand inside the elevator. The cold overhead light casts a stark glow on the mother's face.

MOTHER

Xiaoxin, you play so well! How about we go for a certification and enter a competition too?

The girl looks up and nods with a bright smile. The elevator doors slowly close.

INT. HOME – LATE NIGHT

Honor certificates and trophies gradually pile up on the piano, one after another, as the sound of an increasingly intense practice piece fills the room. The piano is completely covered, and two additional bookshelves, now filled with various awards, stand beside it.

A teenage girl, her hair tied in a ponytail, sits upright at the piano, diligently playing. Tears stream down the girl's face as she struggles to stifle a yawn. Suddenly, the practice piece comes to an abrupt halt.

GIRL

Mom, I want to sleep.

Sitting on a small stool nearby, the mother, exhausted, covers her mouth as she stifles a yawn of her own. Despite her fatigue, she remains stern, waving her hand firmly.

MOTHER

Fix this part. You keep making mistakes. Do you think they'll let you get away with that in the competition?

The girl presses her lips together and lowers her head in frustration.

INT. CLASSROOM – EVENING

The girl's fingers fly across the piano keys, her movements rapid and tense. The teacher, standing beside her, conducts with one hand in rhythm with her playing, while the other rests on his hip. His brows are furrowed, his expression impatient. The girl keeps her head down, playing nervously, but the rhythm becomes more and more chaotic.

TEACHER

Stay on beat! Crescendo! Rest—this part needs a rest! What's going on?

The teacher, growing impatient, taps the girl's hands twice. She lowers her gaze, looking at her hands with a hurt expression.

TEACHER

Can you keep going?

INT. HOME – EARLY MORNING

Water splashes onto the girl's face. She sits there, stunned, her hands still frozen in the posture of playing the piano. Her eyelashes tremble slightly, and she presses her lips together. The tip of her nose and the rims of her eyes turn red.

MOTHER

If you're not going to play properly, then don't play at all! I'm telling you, this was your choice. We've spent so much money on top-tier teachers, spent four hours commuting back and forth for your lessons, can you at least take this seriously?

She jabs the girl's forehead forcefully with her finger. The girl's eyes well up with tears.

MOTHER

Stop zoning out. Go open the package at the door and take a break.

The girl crouches by the door, unwrapping the package. Now and then, she wipes her tears with her sleeve and sniffles.

Just then, the door lets out a creaking sound. The girl turns around just in time to see the heavy door being pushed shut by the wind. It's closing fast.

She instinctively reaches out with one hand to stop it.

SLAM! The door clamps down hard on her fingers.

INT. CLINIC ENTRANCE – MORNING

A white sign reading "Consultation Room 1" is affixed to the doorway, while another sign above the doorframe marks the department as "Orthopedic Surgery."

DOCTOR

Come back in a month for a check-up and to get the cast removed.

MOTHER

Thank you, doctor.

The mother walks out of the consultation room, and her daughter follows closely behind. She cradles her right wrist with her left hand, her pinky finger wrapped in a cast. Her gaze remains lowered, her expression tense and cautious.

The mother's face is dark with frustration. She stays silent for a moment, glancing at the girl, then abruptly turns away and walks off, leaving the girl standing alone in the bustling hallway as people pass by.

INT. STAGE – NOON

The girl stands in the backstage waiting area, dressed in a long evening gown. The stage lights shine through the curtain, casting a pale glow on her numb, expressionless features. She lowers her head as her mother carefully removes the cast from her pinky finger.

MOTHER

You've only practiced with your left hand for a month. It's not going to go well.

The girl blinks, takes a deep breath, and steps onto the stage. She sits down at the piano, flexing her pinky finger stiffly, slowly curling it.

She exhales deeply and places both hands on the keys.

The music begins. At first, the melody flows, but soon, wrong notes creep in. Her wrist trembles.

INT. HOME – DAY (FLASHBACK)

The mother's eyes snap open. She sits rigidly on a chair beside the piano, her gaze sharp and piercing.

MOTHER

How many times has it been? And you still made a mistake?!

INT. STAGE – DAY

The girl's hands move frantically across the piano keys, her playing rushed and unsteady. She presses her lips together, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY (FLASHBACK)

The teacher swiftly circles a section on the sheet music with a pencil. The pages are already cluttered with dense, scribbled annotations. Frowning, he lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead before pulling off his glasses.

TEACHER

This section needs a crescendo! The marking is right here—how many times do I have to tell you?!

INT. STAGE – DAY

The girl slams down a series of chords, her hands pressing forcefully across the keys, gliding frantically from the piano's lowest notes to its highest. Strands of hair, damp with sweat, cling to her temples. The music is a chaotic mess, completely out of tune.

She holds her breath. A wave of dizziness washes over her.

Suddenly, she jerks her hand up—then brings it crashing down onto the keys.

The audience gasps. She glances toward the crowd, but the stage lights are blinding; she can't make out their faces.