Chapter 57: The Grand Skills Examination Begins!

Tonight, the host for the evaluation performance is Old Dong.

As the first wave of applause subsided, Old Dong loosened his collar and walked onto the stage from backstage.

Another round of applause followed.

“Good evening, everyone...”

At the same time, in the backstage lounge, Li An was the fifth to draw and picked the fourth performance slot.

After that, Xu Nana drew the sixth slot.

Ni Hongjie drew the third.

Now, only Chen Xuan remained.

Everyone’s gaze fell on Chen Xuan’s hand, with Lin Pengfei looking the most anxious.

“Eighth,” Chen Xuan announced after opening her envelope and glanced at the others.

Lin Pengfei’s last hope was dashed.

He didn’t need to look at his own number—he didn’t want to go second.

With the order decided, Zhang Youwei would be the first to take the stage ten minutes later.

Next was the repertoire draw. The eight participants approached different boxes according to their specialties.

This time, Lin Pengfei refused to be the first to reach in. Stretching lazily, he slowed down and followed behind Tian Yu and Li An.

“Teacher Tian, you go first,” Li An gestured politely.

Tian Yu didn’t stand on ceremony; it made no difference to him which piece he drew. He casually reached into the box.

Li An looked at Lin Pengfei again, but before he could speak, Lin Pengfei said, “Go ahead, I’ll take the last one.”

Li An calmly reached in and drew his two slips.

He opened the envelopes generously as Lin Pengfei leaned in and Tian Yu also glanced over, putting away his own selection.

When Lin Pengfei saw Li An’s repertoire, he envied Li An’s luck—Chopin’s Etude Op.25 No.2 was one of his own strengths. But seeing the piece in Li An’s hand, he thought, “What a kind soul.”

Li An had drawn a difficult piece for him.

Tian Yu asked, “How did you do, Li?”

Li An replied, “The Spinning Top Etude and the third movement of Appassionata.”

Hearing “the third movement of Appassionata,” Tian Yu felt a touch of schadenfreude. Among the pieces in the exam repertoire, this is considered the most challenging and least forgiving of the Level 10 works.

He recognized Li An’s skill, but he didn’t think Li An could truly master “Appassionata.”

With Li An’s pieces revealed, Lin Pengfei turned his gaze to Tian Yu.

Tian Yu smiled. “Czerny in A minor and Haydn in C major.”

“Lucky you, Teacher Tian,” Lin Pengfei said as he drew his own pieces. Seeing Clementi’s Etude, he was pleased, but it wasn’t one of his favorite pieces—he’d gotten Prokofiev’s Prelude Op.12 No.7.

After everyone had registered their pieces, Zhang Youwei opened his case, assembled his saxophone, moistened the reed, and did a brief sound check, then, accompanied by Lin Pengfei, went deeper backstage to tune.

As the first to go on, he seemed to be in good shape.

Tian Yu went to the largest lounge to rest his eyes.

Although he didn’t care about the results of this evaluation, today the audience was packed with his students and their parents.

The adjacent lounge had been occupied since the afternoon by Ni Hongjie, Jia Lu, and Xu Nana from the east office. After registering, the three returned there, chatting and laughing.

Following not far behind, Chen Xuan hesitated barely a moment before heading to the next lounge.

But she found the door locked.

What kind of theater only opens two lounges?

Helpless, she returned backstage, where everywhere she looked were unfamiliar staff and busy logistics teachers—not even a chair to be found.

Suddenly her gaze landed on the pile of boxes beneath the soundboard on the second floor. Li An was sitting there, leisurely reading a score.

Sensing her gaze, Li An looked up to see Chen Xuan standing alone, clutching her flute case and looking his way.

He immediately understood.

He waved and patted the spot beside him.

Chen Xuan trotted over, smoothed her skirt, and sat down next to him.

“What piece did you draw?” Li An asked.

“Carmen and a Köhler Etude,” Chen Xuan replied, setting her flute case down. “What about you?”

“A Chopin Etude and the third movement of a Beethoven sonata.”

As Li An pondered, about to close his score, Chen Xuan said, “Go ahead and keep reading.”

She pulled out her phone.

Li An nodded and turned the page.

...

With Zhang Youwei’s appearance, another round of applause filled the auditorium.

Dressed in black, Zhang Youwei took his saxophone to center stage and bowed.

As silence fell, he began to play his etude.

The rapid triplets immediately caught the audience’s attention—it was clear from the opening that this was a fast-paced etude.

Within the Level 9 etudes, this one is considered less difficult, but its melody is so plain that it’s hard to win the audience’s favor.

Within a few bars, some parents in the audience were already thinking the piece didn’t sound good.

The layman listens for excitement, the expert listens for substance.

“Pleasant” is always subjective.

There are countless beautiful etudes in the world.

As a genre composed specifically to train certain technical aspects, etudes were never created just to please the ear.

Still, a performer with solid fundamentals can make an etude sound like a truly wonderful piece of music.

Take, for example, the Littler Etude that Zhang Youwei was playing. The focus is on accent control and mastery of rapid triplet runs.

It requires breath, fingers, and tongue to coordinate perfectly, producing a subtle rhythmic pulse. Coupled with the unique timbre of the saxophone, it can become a delightful, lively classical saxophone piece.

Unfortunately, in this performance, Zhang Youwei had plenty of breath, but his finger work and tongued accents weren’t in sync.

As a result, the entire piece felt rhythmically blurred, with some passages lacking clarity.

Perhaps he hadn’t adjusted his mindset, being the first to perform.

After all, playing well in rehearsal doesn’t guarantee you’ll shine on stage.

Likewise, you can’t judge a teacher’s abilities by a single poor performance.

But this wasn’t a teaching assessment, and for Zhang Youwei’s rendition, Qin Yong gave only 2.6 points.

However, in the subsequent piece, “Carnival of Venice,” Zhang Youwei’s performance won great praise from students’ parents.

That piece is known for sounding impressive, though it’s not particularly difficult.

After finishing the final variation, Zhang Youwei bowed, and the audience responded with enthusiastic applause.

Especially the parents whose children were learning saxophone—their applause was the loudest.

Perhaps after hearing this, they thought it was the perfect example to follow.

Backstage, Zhang Youwei was still riding the high from his performance. He put down his saxophone and high-fived Lin Pengfei.

Emboldened, Lin Pengfei shrugged and strode onto the stage.

“Wow———”

Just as Li An turned his attention away, he heard a faint rumbling from beside him.

“Did you skip dinner again?”

“Mm.”