109. Foul

In theory, every piano student has the right to request a change of teacher at any time—this is a reasonable expectation for both parents and children. However, at large training institutions, such incidents are comparatively rare. Unless the current teacher is unable to continue instructing the child or irreconcilable conflicts arise between the parent, child, and teacher, parents seldom make such requests directly.

The fundamental reason is that most parents’ expectations for their children’s piano education focus solely on passing graded exams. Their goal is merely to obtain a few certification levels. Nowadays, institutions boasting “five years to grade ten” training are considered quite reputable within the industry. For example, a large establishment like Blue Sky. Whether parents truly understand the nuances is another matter, but compared to a small workshop next door promising a guaranteed grade ten pass in three years, large institutions appear far more reliable.

Since they have entrusted their children to a major institution, parents see little reason to trouble themselves or offend the original teacher. After all, passing the exams matters more than who teaches them. Even if a particular teacher doesn’t appeal to them, parents tend to turn a blind eye unless the issues are truly serious.

However, if musical talents were officially counted toward middle school or college entrance exam scores, just wait and see. Those same parents would suddenly scrutinize everything with the sharpest eyes. Li An sometimes fantasized about that day, wondering if it would bring a seismic shift to the entire industry. But it wouldn’t, because art has no single, nationwide standard answer.

As for why Chi Yu’s mother decided to change teachers at this stage, Li An didn’t concern himself with that. The important thing was that she had made her decision to come, and he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

At half past ten, Marco’s father brought him to Classroom 4. Li An gave Marco over an hour of instruction. He was never stingy with time for such understanding parents, especially during this special period.

—

At noon, Old Dong announced in the group chat that the preliminary review for each group’s program would take place the day after tomorrow. Five people in the west office were enjoying lunch and chatting about the new instrument’s evaluation when the message suddenly silenced them. However, Xu Hongxin and Ma Tao quickly resumed eating. “Let the review happen,” they said. Both knew their program was just filler, and after several rehearsals, it would probably be passable by then.

But for Chen Xuan, this was not good news. Her flute ensemble was the finale, and she couldn’t afford to have the same casual attitude as Xu and Ma. Besides, she was a perfectionist. Lately, no one in Yudong clung to the full score as much as she did. Even Li An wasn’t as invested in this rehearsal; he was focused on grooming his own students, while Chen Xuan simply wanted to deliver an outstanding performance.

Still, she wasn’t confident about the preliminary review two days away, since only after yesterday’s afternoon rehearsal had her program begun to show new promise. Her mood was affected throughout the day. She wanted to enjoy herself going out with Li An, but the sudden situation weighed heavily on her mind.

Li An put down his phone and saw the unmistakable anxiety on Chen Xuan’s face. He understood. On the way to the rehearsal room that afternoon, he encouraged her, “Relax. There are still two days left. The preliminary review will definitely be fine.”

Chen Xuan shook her head and murmured softly, “That’s not the problem.”

Li An replied lightly, “Let’s rehearse when we agreed and leave at the planned time.”

Chen Xuan grew a little anxious at this, as they had already agreed to check in early and leave by five that afternoon. “No,” she said firmly.

“Be obedient,” Li An said unusually firmly, then grinned, “There’ll be another Qixi Festival next year.”

Chen Xuan was startled. Suddenly, her heart felt like it was touched by a spark, burning all the way to her throat. The heat constricted her breath. She thought Li An’s words were unfair. Her heart twitched, and she had the impulse to rush forward and embrace him.

“Teacher Li.”

At that moment, Marco’s father’s voice came from behind.

—

After two days of dividing groups and extra individual lessons for five children, Li An created quite a stir that afternoon. After two rounds of practice, the eight children achieved the sound and momentum expected of a sixteen-hand piano ensemble by the third round. Many parents and students gathered at the door to watch, and Wang Meili and Old Dong even came in to listen for a while.

Parents in the classroom recorded videos and posted on social media, beaming with delight as if they wished the performance were tomorrow night already. Li An silently observed all this from the side. He was not surprised by the outside excitement; a well-rehearsed program naturally aroused enthusiasm. The children had endured much hardship these days.

This level was sufficient for the stage, but still far from his ultimate goal. After several days of intensive training, the eight children’s phrasing and playing styles had begun to blend, but the overall emotional fluctuations of the music had yet to fully emerge. Next, the focus would be on balancing the melody’s dynamics with the accompanimental rhythm’s accents.

“This round was pretty good,” he praised lightly during the intermission.

In the second half, he called on three students—Zhang Tianlai, Huang Ruyi, and Marco—to play a round. The effect was pleasing.

Then he had Xu Mengjie and Chi Yu perform together. Thanks to the morning’s individual lessons, Chi Yu showed the expected improvement, which reinforced her mother’s decision to switch teachers.

Finally, Li An called Chen Yutong, Che Lin, and Marco.

“You three, come on.”

Che Lin and Marco were on melody, Chen Yutong on accompaniment. Volume-wise, it was two against one. Chen Yutong was originally slightly stronger than Chi Yu, but since Chi Yu had extra tutoring, Chen Yutong had fallen to the bottom here.

After one run-through, anyone with ears could hear the issues clearly.

Li An ended rehearsal early that day. After class, the other parents and children left, but Li An stayed behind to spend ten minutes giving Chen Yutong some focused guidance. He then reminded Chen Yutong’s father to closely monitor her practice at home.

“Please record a video of her playing after practice tonight.”

He sighed.

“Right now, Yutong’s the biggest concern,” Li An said earnestly.

Actually, Chen Yutong’s father had heard the problems too. During the full group performance, he hadn’t noticed his daughter’s issues, but they became apparent in the smaller trio.

“Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Li.”

Li An waved his hand. “It’s nothing. Rehearsal time is limited, so I need you to be more attentive at home.”

He had essentially made his point clear. Now it was up to them to decide whether to seek him out for lessons.

After seeing the father and daughter off, Li An went to the rehearsal room to get his phone. There was one unread message. It was from the restaurant he had booked—polite in tone but clear: if they didn’t arrive on time, the table would be canceled.

He understood, given the day’s special circumstances. Pocketing his phone, he quickly headed to Chen Xuan’s side.