Such a young man

A night of rain had momentarily subdued Rong City’s fervor but could not quell the heated arrival of Yudong’s summer classes.

“The elevator has stopped.”

Saturday, 8:20 AM. Qin Yong followed a crowd of parents and children toward the elevator. His right foot had barely stepped in when—beep—the doors closed. With a helpless sigh, he withdrew his foot, joining another group of parents to watch the elevator ascend.

“Good morning, Principal Qin.”

A crisp voice rang out. Qin Yong turned to see a girl in jeans and a white T-shirt, closing her umbrella and walking briskly toward him. He remembered her well—the clarinet teacher who had been with them for a year and a half. He had reviewed every teacher’s student progress records in detail, and among the younger staff, Xu Nana stood out for her meticulous documentation of each child’s learning progress.

Checking his watch, Qin Yong put on a stern face. “Miss Xu, two points deducted. You have ninety-eight left.”

Xu Nana chuckled, explaining, “My home is quite far, and it’s hard to hail a cab in the rain. I’ll pay more attention next time.”

Qin Yong nodded in understanding. “You’re a local, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “And from your accent, you must be from Rong City too?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

The elevator next door arrived first, and teachers and students together ascended to the ninth floor.

Today, the Yudong lobby was alive with its usual bustle. The corridors and waiting areas overflowed with children’s laughter and chatter. The previous day had marked the end of final exams for all primary and secondary schools in the Yudong district, and today should have been a day of celebration for the children.

Greeting people along the way, Qin Yong made his way to his office. He looked at the towering stacks of student files on his desk and rubbed his brow. If he’d known it would be like this, he wouldn’t have taken the job even if the old principal had threatened him. The workload was no lighter than back in Beijing. He’d resigned and returned to Rong City for a more relaxed environment, after all.

Sitting at his desk, Qin Yong pulled out five selected summer class extension plans. After some thought, he put down Xu Nana’s and picked up the one on the far left. He turned to the last page.

“Yu Xiaobei, target lessons: ten.”

Beneath these neat lines of penmanship was a distinctive signature.

“Li An.”

...

After reviewing Li An’s class extension plan last night, he had dug out Li An’s student progress file from the piano teaching group’s archives. Reading it through, he found the young man’s teaching philosophy was far from that of a mere intern. Even in his previous workplace, such teachers were rare.

From the selection of teaching materials to tailored training methods, from the student’s end-of-lesson reflections to the plans and goals for the next class, every word was clear and precise. Reading Li An’s files was like witnessing a child’s halting but steady growth. There were even notes from conversations with parents, succinctly capturing their thoughts and expectations regarding their child’s piano studies. Most remarkable of all, every page bore the marks of time’s passage.

“If only someone like him were from Rong City,” Qin Yong thought with a tinge of regret. He had already gathered most of Li An’s personal details. Although he had yet to decide on his own next steps, having promised the old principal, he was determined to leave Yudong with a stable, healthy foundation before departing.

To do so, he needed to build his own team of teachers. His vision for the future required identifying two or three young teachers from the current staff to form an unshakable core—a bedrock for Yudong’s development. Professional skill, integrity, work ethic, and stability—none could be lacking.

From the student records, Qin Yong had already recognized Li An’s professionalism and dedication. A person so focused on his work could hardly be lacking in character.

“Yucheng—a truly distant place,” Qin Yong murmured, sighing softly. After all his own twists and turns, he had ended up back in Rong City. But at least Rong City was a major second-tier city, offering far more opportunities than a small place like Yucheng. Since Li An hadn’t returned home after graduation, he likely wanted to try his luck in the big city.

No need to rush.

Qin Yong found Li An’s name on the teacher evaluation list and circled it lightly. Then, he reorganized all the teachers’ student records, deliberately placing Li An’s at the top.

“Director Dong!”

Old Dong seemed to have been waiting by the door; within seconds, he knocked and entered.

“Principal Qin, what can I do for you?” Old Dong bowed and nodded, the very picture of obsequiousness.

Qin Yong found it amusing. After several days of investigation, he had taken Old Dong off his informal blacklist. The old principal had been right—Old Dong might lack ability, but he was certainly diligent as a gofer. If everyone liked calling him ‘Principal,’ so be it; Yudong wouldn’t see another official principal before he left, anyway.

“Distribute these student files. And get two more administrative teachers to move the rest—don’t let it delay anyone’s morning classes.”

“We’ll observe lessons in half an hour.”

Old Dong hurried off, initially wanting to ask whose class they would observe first, but thought better of it. Glancing down as he left, he was surprised to see Li An’s file was on top.

...

Old Dong mulled it over and suddenly saw things with perfect clarity.

Half an hour later, Qin Yong led Old Dong toward the east teaching wing.

“Principal, whose class are we observing?” Old Dong asked with some confusion.

Passing several parents and children, Qin Yong quickened his pace. “Xu Nana.”

Old Dong: Was I overthinking?

...

[Wang Xiaohu’s Student-Teacher Index rises to 25]

If only life were always this easy.

In Classroom Three on the west side, Li An couldn’t help but sigh as the red numbers floated before his eyes. In a single period, Wang Xiaohu’s Student-Teacher Index had soared.

He swore he had been entirely focused on teaching. He had only answered a few of the boy’s questions about games, but it hadn’t affected the efficiency of the lesson.

During this period, Wang Xiaohu had fully completed the right-hand exercises of Duvernoy’s Etudes. Li An reckoned that if the boy practiced diligently for three or four hours at home, his right hand would be solid.

“The lesson’s over.”

Li An had just stood up when Wang Xiaohu called out, “Teacher.”

“Yes?”

“I want to come back tomorrow.”

“Do you want another lesson or just to talk about games?”

“For the lesson, of course.”

According to the extension plan discussed with Xiaohu’s grandmother, the boy was scheduled for just one extra lesson a week, on Wednesdays, leaving five days for practice. But Li An wasn’t foolish; a child asking for more lessons was as good as handing him extra income. Still, it would look better if the child asked his family directly.

“We’ll stick to our plan for now. Practice these two days, and if you think you’ve mastered it, have your grandmother record a video for me.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his left eyebrow twitched.

[Wang Xiaohu’s Student-Teacher Index drops to 22]

Just as it should be—a bit of give and take puts the heart at ease. Li An made a new discovery: if he refused Wang Xiaohu outright, the boy would be displeased. It was rather endearing, in fact.