bChapter /bb270 /b

At bfirst /bnce, I discovered that the woman in the video looked like Edward when he was young.

When I was little, I particrly admired Edward and would often secretly watch videos of Edward’s speeches from his youth over and over bagain/b.

“Boss, did you finish watching? How do you feel? Isn’t this woman particrly beautiful?”

I came back to my senses, thinking it must Just be that people can look simr

“Quite beautiful, but she doesn’t demonstrate the medical expertise needed to coborate with me.”

I hung up the phone, not daring to look at that video again.

Because once I opened it, what appeared before my eyes were scenes from cldhood – when I told Edward I wanted to learn dance and stand on stage, only to be mocked by him.

“What kind of dance can a deaf person do? Can you hear the beat clearly? Can you keep up with the rhythm? Don’t embarrass me

Although I did eventually stand on stageter.

Back then I had won countless awards, but Edward never praised me once for it.

“What’s the use of all your hard work? Some this

Edward looked at her with disdain: “People lit

in one step – you don’t deserve to dance.”

can’t be achieved through effort alone, understand?”

you who are born disabled should do what disabled people do. Don’t fantasize about reaching the sky

Despite Edward’s repeated suppression, I never gave up dancing.

Until onepetition, when I was resting, my hearing aid was taken by someone unknown.

That time, little me could only hear chaotic soundsb, /bcouldn’t hear the music clearly, made mistakes throughout the nationalpetition, and was eliminated.

When I returned home, Edward cut up my dance costume in front of me and threw my dance shoes in the trash.

“You don’t need to learn dance anymore. bIf /bbI /bsee you dancing again, I’ll break your legs.”

Thinking about everything that happened in the past, I curled up and hugged myself, my body trembling slightly.

Some childhood pain might never heal in this lifetime…

In the room, I was immersed in Edward’s repeated blows from the past, not noticing a figure walking in.

“Aurora.”

The familiar voice brought me back from the past to the present. I turned to look at Ferris.

“Why did youe?”

My voice carried a hint of hoarseness.

Since losing his sight, Ferris’s hearing had be extraordinarily sharp. He came before me, wanting to reach out and hug me but afraid of being rejected.

So he groped his way to the piano nearby and sat down. Under my surprised gaze, his slender hands were ced on the ck and white keys.

Although he had no memory, his body’s instinct allowed him to quickly y a gentle melody.

Alpha’s Dogret: Falsemate. True Luna

b98.99 /b

Chapter b270 /b

bI /bbstared /bbat /bbhim /bin a daze: “You can y no?”

bAfter /bfinishing the bpiece/bb, /bFerris stopped: “Not very well.”

He continued ying other pieces, and I discovered he was now ying exactly the songs I would asionally y recently.

He had memorized them just from asionally listening.

While ying, Ferris also pointed out ces where I felt there were problems

“I think this part should be changed.”

He made the change, and after listening, the problem was indeed resolved.

At this moment, I couldn’t help but view him differently.

Some people rely on luck to make a living, but Ferris truly relied on himself.

I immediately rewrote the corrected parts.

By dinner time, with Ferris’s help beside me, I had miraculously corrected all the problematic sections.

“Did you really lose your memory?” I looked at him in disbelief.

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