My Fiancé's Scandals Never End, So I Married His Uncle Instead-Chapter 106: Still the Old-Time Melody

It wasn’t an illusion, nor was it a figment of her imagination.

It felt like a genuine memory, yanked from the depths of time.

Celia Sterling’s legs moved on their own as she slowly walked over to the piano and sat down.

The housekeeper was patiently explaining, "This piano has been here for many years. Mr. Sterling has someone come to service it annually. If you’d like to play, Miss..."

Her words trailed off as her gaze fell on Celia Sterling’s profile at the piano. She stared, stunned, a look of shocked disbelief on her face. After a moment, she asked tentatively,

"Miss, did you used to play the piano here with Mr. Sterling when you were a child?"

Celia looked at the housekeeper. "What makes you say that?"

"I’ve seen a photograph of you and Mr. Sterling playing the piano when you were little," the housekeeper said, studying her intently. "Mr. Sterling has many old photos. Once, while he was looking through an album by the piano, one fell out. I glanced at it when I picked it up for him. Now, looking closely at your face, Miss, I realize you’re the same person in that picture."

"Where’s the photo?"

"Mr. Sterling put it away," the housekeeper replied. "He treasures those photos. He usually keeps them locked in a safe, so we aren’t allowed to look at them."

Celia stood there, stunned for a long moment. Then, she abruptly shot up, ran to the second floor, and pushed open the door to the study.

"Kian!" She was slightly out of breath, her almond-shaped eyes fixed on the man in the study. "Kian, have I... been here before?"

Kian Sterling wasn’t working.

He was standing before the study’s floor-to-ceiling window. The fiery red shirt clinging to his tall frame set a vibrant, intense mood.

The air in the room was a little dry. He was already wearing a low V-neck, and at some point, he had unfastened the top jeweled button, revealing the alluring line of his collarbone. His cuffs were rolled halfway up his forearms. He projected an air of utter laziness as he silently gazed at the scenery outside. From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the garden below, so he must have seen Celia wandering there moments ago.

Hearing Celia’s words, his expression remained unchanged as he answered calmly,

"You lived here for a while when you were little."

Celia let out a long breath. "I knew it! I was so sure I’d never been here, yet I had this strange sense of familiarity."

"Want to look around some more?" Kian Sterling watched her, his voice low. "I can show you around."

Celia nodded. "Okay."

Just as she always did, she habitually took Kian Sterling’s arm, and they went downstairs together.

Downstairs, the housekeeper greeted them in a low voice, "Mr. Sterling."

"I’ll show her around from here," Kian Sterling instructed coolly. "You can go prepare lunch. Get the menu from the bodyguard."

He tilted his head slightly to look at Celia beside him. "The villa doesn’t have a chef who specializes in authentic spicy food. How about we try some of Port Sovereign’s local specialties?"

"Whatever you decide is fine, Kian." Celia’s mind wasn’t on food. "Kian, we’ve already seen the garden. Show me around somewhere else."

Kian Sterling nodded. "Alright, let’s tour the house, starting from the first floor."

He led her on an unhurried tour from the first floor up to the fifth, and then all the way back down again. They went from the open-plan living room, rich with Port Sovereign’s distinct style, to the massive wine cellar; from the empty walk-in closet to the cartoon-themed media room. Celia explored with great interest, but perhaps because Kian was by her side, she never again slipped into that dreamlike, half-real, half-illusory state.

"I only have a few fragmented memories of the garden. Everything else feels completely unfamiliar," Celia couldn’t help but ask. "How old was I?"

"A little over three," Kian Sterling side-eyed her. "What can you remember from when you were that little?"

’No wonder,’ Celia thought. She then recalled the photo album the housekeeper had mentioned. "The housekeeper said you have a lot of photos here, Kian. Can I see them? If I hadn’t come on this trip, I never would have known I visited Port Sovereign when I was so young. Let me think... Huh. Around that time, wasn’t the Sterling perfume business in crisis? You traveled all the way to Port Sovereign to find Professor Lowell, right? I can’t believe I came with you."

Kian Sterling was silent for a few seconds before humming in agreement.

He led her back to the piano on the first floor. "I’ll show you the photos later. Want to play a song with me first?"

"The housekeeper said I used to play with you when I was little, and that there are photos."

"What did you know about the piano back then? All you did was cry in front of it and refuse to touch it. Later, I started playing with you. I spent over half a month teaching you ’Fireflies’ hand-over-hand, but you still stumbled through it." As he spoke, a note of resignation crept into his voice, as if recalling something. "And after all those years in Metropia, the piano was still your weakness. It’s clear you’ve had no natural talent for it since you were a child."

When Celia was seven or eight, Kian Sterling had hired all sorts of tutors to cultivate her hobbies. She did fine with dancing and drawing, but she could never get the hang of the piano. After listening to her chaotic, arrhythmic playing for several years, Kian had no choice but to accept reality.

"I do have a vague memory of this piano." Celia looked at the Hello Kitty decorations on the pink piano, which had clearly been added later. "I’ve actually dreamed about it a couple of times. I always thought it was just a dream, but I can’t believe it’s real and here in Port Sovereign. I guess it’s not entirely true what they say about childhood memories fading away. It seems some things are carved into your very soul."

Kian Sterling had already taken a seat on the piano bench. He looked at her gently. "Cece, come here."

Celia sat down beside him and placed her hands lightly on the keys. Her almond-shaped eyes blinked slyly. "So, Kian, what are we playing?"

"Fireflies."

"Are you sure?" Celia couldn’t help but laugh. "My piano skills might not be the best, but I mastered ’Fireflies’ ages ago. I’m not the same little girl I was back then."

Kian Sterling gave her a deep, inscrutable look.

"Everything between you and me, Cece, began with ’Fireflies.’ It’s only right that it forms a closed loop here, with ’Fireflies.’"

For a moment, Celia didn’t understand what he meant.

Kian Sterling didn’t explain. He casually reached out, his long, slender fingers dancing across the keys. Celia pushed her confusion aside and began to play along with him.

A beautiful melody echoed through the large hall.

Celia’s playing was light and lively, while Kian’s was crisp and steady. The two streams of music intertwined in surprising harmony.

The housekeeper passed by the entrance to the room, holding the menu she had gotten from the bodyguard, and glanced inside.

The melody was lovely and beautiful, yet she thought she saw an indescribable melancholy in Kian Sterling—and beneath it, a trace of deep-seated sorrow.

’How could the high and mighty, all-powerful Mr. Sterling possibly feel so dejected?’

The housekeeper rubbed her eyes. When she looked again, all she saw was the man’s elegant, noble, and chillingly captivating profile. The girl was lost in her playing while the man accompanied her with one hand on the keys, his gaze never leaving her. Sunlight filtered through the glass wall, casting mottled shadows over the piano and obscuring Kian Sterling’s expression.

The housekeeper told herself that the melancholy and sorrow she’d seen must have been a trick of the light. Seeing how perfectly harmonious the siblings were, she didn’t dare disturb them and quietly slipped away.

Intent on redeeming her childhood self, Celia played the piece four or five times before she was satisfied. Kian Sterling withdrew his gaze and patted her head dotingly.

"Didn’t you want to see the photos? Let’s go to the study."