117. Style and Vision: Ji Yang's Joyful News

Why is the collective style of a group sometimes confused with the style of an era? The legitimate reason lies in the fact that a group’s style often seems to fulfill the vague, indistinct aspirations of that era.

Charles Rosen, in his work on classical style, describes style metaphorically as a form of linguistic exploration, a refined way of expression. In this process, it becomes a dialect or a self-contained linguistic system. It is precisely this condensation and focus that makes the notion of personal style or an artist’s uniqueness possible.

Over the past days, while practicing Czerny’s Op. 299, Li An, based on his personal understanding of the classical musical system, carefully observed the developmental trajectories of each piece. To his surprise, he uncovered dynamic potentials hidden within the works. Czerny was not rigid.

This discovery compelled him to experience the music under his fingers with sharper ears and keener perception. After attempting to interpret the pieces, he grasped some connections between Czerny’s works and the stylistic traits of the era.

Perhaps setting aside Czerny’s identity as a great piano educator, his unique position in music history is not solely as Beethoven’s pupil or Liszt’s teacher. Positioned between these two towering masters, he indeed was a remarkable figure. In an age when performers favored dazzling techniques to please audiences, Czerny insisted on simple and practical musical lines, leaving behind classic piano exercises for posterity two centuries later.

There may have been compromises forced by livelihood as an educator of his time, or perhaps a farsighted vision transcending generations. Regardless, Czerny’s musical style today still embodies the indistinct aspirations of countless piano students.

Everyone desires to penetrate its mysteries, but for what purpose? To enter the sacred halls of art in their hearts, or merely to earn a few dozen yuan per hour for lessons?

A bright, clear passage of repeated leaps flows, the thumb, middle, and ring fingers on the piano like spicy chicken feet caught in a whirlwind, finally descending gracefully after a frenzy of rapid strokes.

“Ding!”

Accompanied by two consecutive chords of moderate strength, Li An’s fingers paused as his wrists pressed down briefly, then lifted both hands. Only the soft, lingering sound waves resonated from the piano’s body, gently easing the fatigue of the afternoon.

Two seconds later, Li An withdrew his right foot from the pedal.

“Phew——”

Whatever the reason, you must practice first, right? Merely thinking without practicing is just self-deception.

After a brief rest around the Qixi Festival, Li An’s state at the piano has grown increasingly vibrant these days, as if his fingers are experiencing a second spring.

More than half a month has passed since his March appointment; he has completed playing half of the pieces in the Op. 299 collection in their original keys and expects to begin transposition practice by mid-June.

Turning off the metronome, Li An glanced at his phone, then got up gently, opened the door, and brought in the takeout bag hanging from the doorknob.

Two beef-filled buns and a bottle of mineral water—that was his lunch.

No soup or broth, just something ready to eat, with meat and spice, incredibly delicious.

In no time, he finished both meat buns, followed by a refreshing gulp of mineral water.

“Ah.”

Such simple happiness for the stomach.

“Thank you, Teacher Chen, for the lunch. I’m really full.”

“Just enough. I was worried two wouldn’t be enough for you. Want to rest in the office for a bit?”

“No rest. I have rehearsals this afternoon and again no time to practice today.”

“Alright, good luck! I’ll take a short nap.”

Li An put down his phone, walked a few laps in the corridor to stretch, then returned to the piano room, turned on the metronome, and resumed his musical journey through Czerny’s Op. 299.

—

Since the end of the Qixi Festival, aside from normal work, Li An has spent most of his time at the piano. This has always been his lifestyle, but now with a clearer purpose.

His emotional progress with Chen Xuan in this stage has filled him with more visions for the future.

Whether as a pianist or a teacher, he can only dedicate himself to relentless practice and constant innovation to strengthen his own capabilities.

While managing his current work and life,

he accumulates energy, waiting for the next opportunity.

This forms his preliminary plan for the second half of the year regarding life, career, and love based on the current situation.

—

In the afternoon, while Li An was rehearsing, Zheng Haitao called him. Li An hung up, replying that he was busy, then returned the call during a break.

“Brother, the teacher lost a student who was preparing for the arts exam. He went to Haishi to study with Zeng Zhijie.”

“What happened?”

“Sigh, I guess the kid’s family never really intended for him to attend our school. One phone call and he left directly, didn’t even want the prepaid tuition refunded to the teacher.”

“How’s the student’s skill level?”

“Pretty impressive. I’d say about the same as when I took my sophomore final exam.”

That’s the uncertainty during the arts exam season. Even heavyweights like Director Wei and Professor Yu, who wield considerable authority, can’t always predict outcomes.

“Was the teacher angry?”

“Not really. If this had happened a few years ago, he would have been furious. But maybe since he’s been doting on his grandchild these past two years, his temper has softened. He didn’t say much, just told Sister Mingyu to refund the remaining tuition.”

“Did Sister Mingyu recommend this student to the teacher?”

“Of course. She told the teacher the kid was aiming for our school and had a good foundation. So the teacher had been especially attentive to him this year. But in the end, this happened.”

In Li An’s memory, Sister Mingyu is straightforward and warm-hearted. It seems she was also unaware of this at the time.

He could understand. People seek to rise; water flows downward. If the child has the ability and the family’s means, why not strive for a better institution like Haishi?

From the tone of Chen Haitao’s voice and his recollections of Wei and Jia Mingyu, they all share the same traits—straightforward, rigid, but loyal.

Li An thought this must be the bloodline ingrained in the descendants nurtured by the land of Rong City.

In any case, it was good news. Ji Yang lost a strong competitor.

“Alright, got it.”

“How’s your student doing? Keeping up with progress?”

“Not bad. Practices quite diligently.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Is she pretty?”

Li An laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Zheng Haitao chuckled, “Just caring about your future junior. Hey, brother, what time will you be coming tomorrow night?”

Li An said, “Tomorrow is the first show. I’m not performing in it. My pieces are in the last two shows.”

“Got it. Also, Sister Mingyu will be there. I suggest you give her a heads-up in advance.”

Jia Mingyu opened her own piano training institute this year. Li An had seen several posts about it on social media. She was probably coming to observe and learn from the event.

“Understood. We’ll talk when we meet. I have to get back to rehearsal now.”

“Bye, brother.”

“Bye.”

After hanging up, Li An glanced at the panel—Ji Yang had already practiced six hours today.

Not bad.

Returning to the classroom, he sent Ji Yang a message:

“Focus on efficiency. I emphasized last night the need to engage the knuckle support and activate the three joints. Don’t forget.”