52. Inspiration and Insights from the Master

Experienced teachers or performers are able, when necessary, to substitute one fingering for another. But before reaching that stage, a completely stable state of the fingers is essential; one must first play certain études in all keys using the same fingering.

For example, when playing Czerny’s études in various keys, one faces all sorts of difficulties with the transitions between black and white keys. This not only develops the flexibility of every finger and teaches them to react quickly to new combinations, but also strengthens one’s ear.

Just thinking about playing Czerny's études in every key made a faint layer of goosebumps rise on the back of Li An’s neck.

Czerny, Beethoven’s most accomplished pupil, was not just a piano composer. Throughout his life, he wrote countless piano études, which have been the foundational textbooks for generations of pianists over two centuries.

His significance lies in building a solid bridge between the age of Beethoven and modern piano performance. His disciple Liszt inherited his mantle and, branching out, would go on to dominate the European piano world for nearly eighty years.

One could say that every pianist today is a student of Czerny.

“To play Czerny’s études in all keys.”

Such a bold and imaginative idea.

He truly deserved to be the kind of figure who could establish an entire school of performance by himself.

Page after page he turned.

Hmm?

Li An paused—he couldn’t turn the page anymore.

Alright.

“Thank you for your guidance, Master.”

He closed the page, got out of bed, and paced the room. He wasn’t sleepy at all; if only there were a piano at home.

At last, Li An had found a solution for his thumb problem, and he now also had a practice plan for that fast passage of thumb transitions between black and white keys.

He’d been stuck at this stage for two years.

In those two years, he had tried all sorts of methods to improve, practicing blindly and exhaustively, increasing his repertoire a little but finding no significant progress in his actual playing.

Now with a new goal, he saw a new direction.

When he realized he couldn’t turn the page just now, a fleeting sense of insecurity flashed through him—like finding a good teacher and suddenly having that teacher vanish just as learning began.

But then again, isn’t life just like this? Every step on the path forward is full of uncertainties.

At least for the next half a year, he knew what he should practice.

By the window in the living room, Li An reopened Samir’s notes and continued reading.

In the bedroom separated by a single wall, Chen Xuan switched off “Empresses in the Palace” and turned on “Breaking Bad.”

After a while, she switched to “The Voice.”

She watched “The Voice” for a bit, then changed to “Friends.”

After some episodes of “Friends,” she put her phone down and went to the living room to do sit-ups.

Sweaty from exercise, she showered, returned to bed, and picked up her phone again.

She found that today’s gossip on Weibo was no longer entertaining.

Even the dramas she used to love couldn’t hold her attention anymore.

So she chose to dry her hair and go to sleep.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she wanted to get up and find something to do—yet she didn’t know what else she could do.

She had wanted to go out for a wild night with Sun Yuman, but the moment she put on high heels she realized that wasn’t her nature at all.

She took off her shoes, returned to bed, picked up her phone, and opened “Empresses in the Palace” again.

She’d never thought she’d be so hopeless.

A brand new day arrived quietly. Before dawn, Li An leapt out of bed as if injected with adrenaline.

He put water on to boil, washed his face and brushed his teeth while waiting, then cooked noodles once the water was ready. While the noodles simmered, he scooped cat food for Eighty Thousand and cleaned the litter box.

A bowl of noodles tossed with Lao Gan Ma sauce marked the beginning of his day.

He thought arriving downstairs at the company at 7:30 would make him the earliest, but as he entered the lobby, he saw Xu Nana already waiting for the elevator.

“Good morning, Mr. Li.”

“You’re even earlier, Ms. Xu.” Li An knew Xu Nana lived far away.

Because their offices were apart, they rarely spoke. Now, as subtle rivals for ranking, they said little in the elevator.

Exiting the elevator, the sound of piano practice came from the west teaching wing.

“Seems someone is even earlier,” Xu Nana smiled, waved goodbye, and headed toward the east offices.

Li An quickly entered his own classroom and began practicing with Lin Pengfei next door.

Starting with the C major scale, today Li An no longer consciously imposed his will on each finger but let all ten fingers move freely.

After carefully observing for an hour, he noticed that his entire wrist felt liberated in this state, and the sound was indeed more natural.

But problems soon appeared—his fingers would lose control from time to time.

After another hour of scale practice and careful observation, he determined that the fingers most prone to losing control were the left index finger, and the right thumb and ring finger.

Identifying the problematic fingers, Li An opened his phone’s recorder and began focused training on those three fingers, just like he used to have Ji Yang repeat passages endlessly.

His goal for today and tomorrow was to see whether this practice method was effective.

If it worked, he would reinforce the method and rebuild the muscle memory of those three fingers.

If not, he would seek another approach.

Such is the process of finding practice methods—even knowing the root of the problem, the solution must be discovered through one’s own exploration. Even a teacher’s advice may not suit you perfectly.

As long as the general direction is right, the rest is only a matter of time.

Who can sit at the piano and practice scales all day at sixty beats per minute?

Lin Pengfei believed only fools—and his German professor—would do that.

But to him, Li An was clearly no fool, so he was eager to know why, with a performance coming up the night after tomorrow, Li An was spending his time on this.

He wasn’t the only one puzzled—so were Chen Xuan, Zhang Youwei, and Ding Jie in the west teaching wing.

Chen Xuan had already reviewed all four Level Ten études to the point of playing them from memory. Although she didn’t want to think about Li An, with only a wall between them, she couldn’t pretend not to hear him.

As a colleague, she wanted to remind Li An that sometimes, practice shouldn’t be too obsessive.

Of course, she only said this to herself.

None of them knew how happy Li An was at the piano today.

So much so that when Saturday’s classes began, even his teaching style was subtly different.

The first lesson was with Wang Xiaohu.

“Come, Xiaohu, today the teacher will play with you.”

Having someone accompany him made Wang Xiaohu happy. Teacher and student practiced together. As Li An taught, he continued to experience the sensation of learning to walk anew.

“Teacher, why are you playing slower and slower?”

“I’m not slowing down—it’s you, your sixteenth notes are rushing ahead. Xiaohu, remember: whether singing or playing any instrument, you must establish a sense of tempo in your heart. Count the beats with me, out loud.”

“One—two—three—four—”