?<strong>Chapter 707:</strong>


    Soon after, the owner came over with their wine first. Elyse lifted the ss to her nose and inhaled deeply. The enticing aroma made her eager to taste it.


    Suddenly, a cold sensation of danger brushed against her back.


    Startled, Elyse scanned the room cautiously for any signs of threat.


    Irving, with his wine in hand, noticed her actions and asked, “What’s going on?”


    Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Elyse responded, a bit disheartened, “It’s nothing. I just felt like I was being watched.”


    Irving gave her a quick look and teased, “You’re all bundled up. Who’d notice your pretty face?”


    Elyse gritted her teeth. “That’s not what I meant.”


    Irving gazed out the window and said, “It’s quite cold today. Looks like it might snow.”


    Elyse let out a sigh. “There’s already plenty of snow on the ground. We don’t need more.”


    Leaning on one hand, Irving said, “But isn’t there something special about ying the violin in the snow?”


    Elyse looked at him, both stunned and curious. “Irving, you really think that?”


    She took another sip from her ss.


    In an instant, that strange sense of killing intent enveloped her back again.


    Quickly, Elyse set down her ss and turned around. The other guests were merely enjoying their meals, nothing amiss.


    Elyse started to question herself. Was she just being overly sensitive or self-centered?


    Irving, oblivious to her difort, was still gazing out the window.


    Lost in thought, Elyse was suddenly distracted by the sound of piano music filling the restaurant.


    Everyone’s attention was drawn to the music.


    Elyse turned her head curiously toward the music. The pianist was a man donned in a knitted hat and a green checkered scarf, his face nearly hidden.


    Yet, Elyse recognized the melody.


    Perhaps encouraged by the wine, Elyse approached the pianist and asked, “Hello, would you like to y together?”


    The man looked up, his eyes reflecting surprise and shyness, and murmured, “What piece do you want to y?”


    Elyse asked, “Can you y ‘He’s A Pirate’?”


    He nodded and answered with a few introductory notes.


    Elyse nodded, clearly surprised. “Yes, that’s it. Just give me a moment.”


    She hurried back to her seat, popped open her violin case, and under the watchful, expectant gazes of the crowd, she approached the pianist.


    Irving observed Elyse quietly, even pulling out his phone to capture the moment for her. Elyse and the man looked at each other, an immediate mutual understanding passing between them, and they began to y in unison.


    “Wow, it’s incredible.” An onlooker in the restaurant, enthralled by the performance, couldn’t help but exim.


    Irving wasn’t the only one recording; nearly everyone had their phones out, eager to capture the beautiful duet. Soon, they reached the stirring climax of the piece, blending delicacy with intensity. Elyse masterfully captured the mood, her ying resonating with strength and emotion in the crowd.


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