016. Canon (I)

“…How about this: next Monday, I’ll bring the completed project proposal for you all to look over, and then you can decide whether you want to join.” Jiang Yu, unaware that someone had already left, spoke after a brief moment of thought.

“Alright, but, Yu, I know you’re good at programming, I didn’t expect you to be able to write proposals too.” The first to respond was An Yilun, echoing his friend, seemingly not too disappointed that his own proposal had been rejected.

“Well… I know a little, I suppose.” Jiang Yu scratched his head, embarrassed.

Kasumigaoka Shiyu and Sawamura Spencer Eriri remained silent; the lively scene from earlier now settled into rare quiet.

“Then, I’ll look forward to your masterpiece, Jiang Yu junior,” Kasumigaoka Shiyu suddenly said.

“Ah—yes, thank you for your confidence, Kasumigaoka senior, I’ll be sure to write a brilliant proposal.” Jiang Yu hadn’t expected such a beautiful girl to speak to him, even if it was only for work reasons.

It really feels different talking to Kasumigaoka senior compared to the easy rapport with Megumi Kato… Jiang Yu mused.

“Well then… I’ll take my leave for now. See you later, Jiang Yu junior, Yilun junior, and Sawamura.” Kasumigaoka Shiyu smiled playfully and walked out of the classroom.

See you later? Before Jiang Yu could make sense of it, the others began to say their farewells.

“Um, I’ll be heading back too.” Eriri avoided Jiang Yu and An Yilun’s probing glances, turned her back, and quickly left.

“Sigh… Well then, Yilun, Kato, let’s go home too.” Jiang Yu tapped his forehead, troubled.

He really shouldn’t have impulsively taken on the proposal work. Even though he had ideas for creating a classic galgame, he ought to get to know the members of the club before deciding whether to join…

Still, Jiang Yu trusted An Yilun’s judgment; with his work-over-people attitude, he would acknowledge a “masterpiece” and enthusiastically recommend it, or, if it’s a “bad work,” point it out mercilessly and warn fellow otaku not to bother.

Of course, playing games that Yilun recommended always led to endless spoilers, so all the emotional moments, twists, and climaxes would be known in advance, leaving only a resigned “so it really was like that…” when encountering them in the game, making it hard to resonate with those scenes.

Since Yilun trusted Eriri and Kasumigaoka Shiyu so much, their abilities must be on par.

Honestly, Yilun, aren’t you the true game reviewer?

Just as on certain websites, there’s always talk of “trial poison” for recommended novels, famous games also invite testers before release, who then share reviews across their social networks for potential players to reference.

And there are major websites focusing on game reviews and guides, like 3DM or IGN from Jiang Yu’s previous life, though they usually review after official release.

The game reviews between Jiang Yu and his father were more like private exchanges between enthusiasts, nothing commercial or industry-related.

In Jiang Yu’s memory, his father, Jiang He, had been a passionate gamer before taking charge of the family business. Later, work kept him too busy to play much.

So Jiang He would buy promising new games for Jiang Yu to try, and based on his reviews, choose which ones to play during rare holidays, spending whole days gaming at home.

Thus, ever since childhood, the main platform for Jiang Yu to communicate with his father was a game console or a computer.

Really, you’re carrying on the family tradition, aren’t you, predecessor? Jiang Yu thought.

“Hey… Yu, where’s Kato?” An Yilun suddenly asked.

“She should be right there…?” Jiang Yu pointed to the corner where Megumi Kato had been, his expression slowly freezing.

An Yilun said calmly, “Looks like she’s already gone…”

“I think someone said ‘it’s getting late’ or something?” Jiang Yu recalled a moment of lost memory.

“…Yes.” An Yilun’s expression was equally subtle, data synchronized.

…

Glancing at his phone, Jiang Yu realized it was late, exchanged a quick goodbye with An Yilun, hurried home, and quickly reheated and wolfed down his dinner.

He kept the remaining dishes warm and reminded Doma Umaru, who had been gaming nonstop since he returned, to remember to eat. Then he changed clothes and rushed out again.

In his haste, Jiang Yu failed to notice Umaru, seemingly immersed in her game but stealing glances at him from time to time.

Watching her brother’s departing figure, Umaru gave a soft hum, put down the controller, and sat at the table, unhappily starting dinner.

…

Since it was his first day working, Jiang Yu had originally planned to arrive half an hour early, but ended up reaching the café only ten minutes before his shift, just as required. The stage was empty, the expensive surround sound playing the classic Canon.

Jiang Yu steadied his breath, knocked on Kato Kyoko’s office door, and upon hearing “Come in,” turned the handle and entered.

Kato Kyoko looked up from her paperwork and smiled, “Ah, Jiang, you’re here—just a moment, I’ll have Mizuno take you to change clothes.”

She tapped something on her phone. Soon, a young girl in waitress attire entered.

“Hello, Jiang. Please follow me to change clothes.” The girl wore a side ponytail, her makeup light, but her youthful schoolgirl look was obvious.

“Oh, hi, no need to be so formal—we’re probably the same age, right? So no honorifics. How should I address you, Mizuno?” Jiang Yu waved his hand, prompting a soft laugh from Kato Kyoko nearby.

The previously stern side-ponytail girl was amused, replying, “Alright then, Jiang, I’m Ayane Mizuno. Just call me Mizuno—but I must correct you, I’m a freshman!”

“Ah—sorry for the trouble, Mizuno-senpai.” Jiang Yu bowed slightly.

The “Mizuno-senpai” earned a brief look of surprise from Ayane Mizuno, but she didn’t object and turned to lead the way.

Jiang Yu followed her to the changing room, where he donned a perfectly fitted black suit. He shifted uncomfortably, straightened his back, and smiled at the reflection of a well-dressed youth in the mirror.

He now understood why they had required height and weight information on the application. Patting his cheeks in the mirror, Jiang Yu muttered, “You’re not alone at this moment—Kousei Arima, Kanade Tachibana, Kaoru Nagisa are with you!”

He exhaled deeply and stepped out. Mizuno, waiting outside, looked over and, surprised, smiled. “Jiang, you look really dashing in a suit—”

“Eh… No, Mizuno-senpai, please don’t tease me…” Jiang Yu, used to casual wear, felt awkward and uncomfortable in formal attire.

“Hehe, I’m not just being polite.” Mizuno teased, eyes sparkling as she appraised him.

Jiang Yu touched his nose, unsure how to respond.

“Pfft—alright, I won’t tease you anymore. Jiang, hurry to the stage, everyone’s looking forward to your performance,” Mizuno said with a gentle laugh.

Relieved, Jiang Yu nodded and walked to the stage.

Seated, he felt the curious and expectant gaze of the patrons around him. His palms sweated; he wiped them on his suit, exhaled softly, and placed his fingers on the keys, a familiar sensation flooding him.

Recalling the D major version of Canon he’d heard earlier, Jiang Yu remembered his favorite C major variation. This version, adapted by pianist George Winston in his previous life, was nearly the most popular solo piano rendition.

And so, in the next moment, another Canon quietly began to play in the peaceful café.

With the first middle E, the gentle melody wrapped the whole café, like a breeze, like spring rain, striking directly at the softest part of every heart.