67. Little Muzi, the fifth to appear

At ten in the morning, Li An contacted two second-hand air conditioner suppliers and finally arranged for one of them to come and install it at two in the afternoon. Spending seven hundred was certainly painful, but when he thought of the cool comfort he and Ba Wan could enjoy together each night before sleep, the money felt well spent.

After wrapping up Blue Whale’s evening performance, Li An planned to approach Song Sheng to discuss the specifics of his child learning piano. Now that all the skill assessments were over, it was a matter of business acumen. Based on the current point standings, if he could recruit four students before September 6th, his position as an elite teacher would be virtually secured.

The student he was most confident about was Song Sheng’s son. He needed to strike while the iron was hot and turn these leads into concrete points to set his mind at ease.

Song Sheng had planned to look for Li An that evening as well, so seeing Li An seek him out immediately after stepping off the stage made him quite pleased. After watching Li An’s performance on the grand stage, Song Sheng’s impression of him deepened. Though he didn’t understand music, in his eyes, Li An had already become a master among common folk.

“Come, Teacher Li, let’s sit down over here, eat and drink while we talk.”

“Brother Song, there’s no need for formalities between us. I hurried over because our district’s summer enrollment ends on August 10th.”

Song Sheng asked, “Do you have anything else going on later?”

Li An, in fact, had nothing else to do. He’d already eaten a box of steamed rice rolls from Chen Xuan earlier and wasn’t hungry at all. Actually, it wasn’t exactly freeloading. During lunch in the office, Xu Hongxin had asked everyone for suggestions on good places to take his girlfriend out to eat and have fun. As someone born and raised in Rongcheng, Li An really didn’t know which spots counted as particularly good. Wang Panpan, young and fond of fun, mentioned a newly opened Hunan snack shop in Nanmen Lane, enthusiastically recommending their rice rolls and stinky tofu.

Chen Xuan then asked Li An if he liked rice rolls. Li An replied that as long as it was high in carbs, there was nothing he didn’t like these days. So, after the air conditioning was installed, he practiced piano at Yudong for a while, and upon returning to the office, he found a large serving of rice rolls waiting for him on his desk.

After a satisfying meal, he boarded the bus to Blue Whale feeling content. Hearing that Li An had no other plans, Song Sheng turned and called out, “Lili, bring out the drinks.”

Unable to refuse Song Sheng’s hospitality, Li An reluctantly agreed and indulged in another late-night meal with meat, all behind Ba Wan’s back.

After dinner, Song Sheng accompanied Li An to the restaurant entrance and offered to call a car for him.

Li An quickly stopped him. “Brother Song, I appreciate the thought, but if you treat me like this, how am I supposed to keep coming to work at Blue Whale?” As he spoke, he patted Song Sheng on the hand. “I understand.”

Seeing this, Song Sheng didn’t press further. “Alright, Teacher Li, we’ll leave it at that today. Tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll bring my child over. We’ll sign up for classes right away.”

“See you in the morning.” Li An waved and turned to leave.

Song Sheng watched Li An’s departing figure and nodded. With Li An’s understanding, he felt at ease.

...

The next morning, Song Sheng brought Song Muzi to the ninth floor of Yudong, where Li An was already waiting by the elevator.

“Greet your teacher.”

Song Muzi looked timidly at the tall Li An, then whispered, “Hello, teacher,” before retreating behind Song Sheng.

“My child is a bit shy. I’ll have to ask you to be patient with him,” Song Sheng said with a smile, gently pulling Song Muzi to stand in front.

Li An crouched down and pulled a lollipop from his pocket. “What’s your name?”

Perhaps the lollipop helped—Song Muzi looked at it and replied, “My name is Song Muzi.”

Just as he was about to reach for the sweet, Li An suddenly withdrew his smile. “How about I give you two after class?”

Hearing that he could get two, Song Muzi nodded vigorously.

Li An stood up and took the boy’s small hand. “Come this way.”

Song Sheng followed behind, thinking to himself, Is this really my son?

The enrollment process was simple: pay at the front desk, register at administration, and receive the student’s growth record.

When Song Sheng signed his name on the student record, Li An finally secured his fourth student at Yudong and his fifth since coming to Rongcheng.

For the first lesson, Li An did not cover technical topics like posture or hand position. How did he teach?

Through play.

Compared to dry knowledge, for a five-year-old, the most important thing was to spark an interest in this strange wooden box that could make beautiful sounds.

Under Li An’s guidance, after pressing his first note, Song Muzi grew visibly excited. His small hands scratched at the piano keys without pause, producing all kinds of discordant noises.

Song Sheng, watching from the side, began to frown and was about to intervene, but Li An stopped him.

Li An quietly explained, and Song Sheng suddenly understood. He had stayed mainly out of concern that his child would be unresponsive or uncooperative, but it seemed his worries were unfounded.

“Alright then, I’ll leave you two to your lesson and not interfere.”

As he left, he reminded Li An, “Don’t hold back if he misbehaves—treat him as you see fit.”

“Leave him to me.”

...

The lesson passed quickly, with Li An spending the whole time playing with Song Muzi.

They only stopped when the boy was drenched in sweat.

Li An discovered that the child was very sensitive to sound. During their fun, he conducted two small tests.

The first was for pitch recognition.

He played a C and a B in the middle register. These two notes are only a semitone apart—the smallest interval on the piano—making them hard to distinguish.

Yet Song Muzi immediately said the first note was higher. (Correct.)

The second test was for rhythm.

Li An played a quarter-note, then two eighth-notes, then a half-note. He asked Song Muzi to sing back the rhythm using “da.”

Song Muzi responded, “Da—dada, da—.” (Correct.)

His imitation was spot-on.

After class, Li An briefly discussed the child’s situation with Song Sheng, who was overjoyed. He could carry a tune or two, while his wife was completely tone-deaf. He never expected to hear from Li An that his son had a good sense of music.

“That’s hard to say,” Li An explained. “Even children of musicians can lack an ear for sound, while ordinary families can have children who are highly sensitive. From today’s lesson, it looks like Muzi is quite sensitive to sound. I’ll send you some piano music—play it for him this week, and next time we’ll start learning to read music.”

“Alright, great,” Song Sheng replied, then asked, “When do you think we should buy a piano?”

“No rush,” Li An said, pulling out two lollipops for Song Muzi before turning back to Song Sheng. “Let’s take a few more lessons first and see.”

Song Sheng nodded. Since Li An wasn’t in a hurry, he wouldn’t be either. But after hearing Li An’s assessment, he knew he would definitely buy a piano for his son.

“Alright, Teacher Li, I’ll let you get back to work. We’ll be in touch.”

“Say goodbye to your teacher.”

“Goodbye, teacher.”

“Bye, little Song.”

After seeing the father and son off, Li An returned to the classroom, opened the dashboard, swiped back and forth, then entered the studio.

It was 10:12. Yu Xiaobei and Ji Yang were both practicing. Only the green-haired student slumped over the piano, snoring softly.

Ah.

What a disaster.