87. Morning and Evening, Little Tiger and His Mother

The final chords faded like lingering echoes.

Li An gently touched the last cluster of chords in the piano’s upper register.

As the flute melody, as refreshing as a breeze, drifted away above the cramped classroom, it left behind a faint trace of life and a touch of melancholy.

When Classroom Four finally fell silent, Chen Xuan lowered her flute and exhaled softly.

At last, Li An lifted his hand.

The two looked at each other, amusement glinting in both their eyes.

“Was your piano accompaniment always like this, Teacher Li?” Chen Xuan asked as she set down her flute.

Li An shrugged, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’ve accompanied professors, classmates, and choirs.”

He paused.

“I’ve always accompanied like this.”

Near noon, Chen Xuan had taken the initiative to come find Li An, hoping to try it out. The two of them ran through the piece from beginning to end once more.

It was seamless, from start to finish.

Piano and flute.

Whether in the coordination of every note between the two instruments, or in the perfect fusion of melody and accompaniment, both performers revealed solid technique and considerable experience.

Any amateur listener would surely have applauded.

But as the ones performing it, the two of them understood after that single run-through that their interpretations of the piece seemed to be at odds.

Chen Xuan’s playing was like an invigorating morning.

Li An’s accompaniment was like the twilight of evening.

Chen Xuan was not surprised that Li An had not followed the original accompaniment score; in a sense, that was exactly what she had hoped to see.

From the texture and overall structure he chose, it was clear he had no intention of letting the piano seize the lead.

Yet in every tiny detail, the piano seemed to be guiding the direction of her playing.

Within a single phrase, even the length of one note could alter the shape of the music.

Chen Xuan already had her own vision of the piece in her mind, and naturally she would not submit so easily.

Using the melodic advantage of the lead instrument, she began, not long after the music started, to try to lead it into the world she had imagined.

But in the end, Li An was never influenced by her.

His own sense of it was even more immediate.

Though Chen Xuan’s melody was beautiful and moving, there was an untamed defiance in it.

As the accompanist, he supported the entire framework of the music, and he wanted her to move in step with him.

Yet in the end, apart from a few collisions, the two of them never truly met.

Just like the clash in their understanding of Bach’s music, only more direct this time.

It was reflected plainly in the performance itself.

And yet, it had to be said, this was a very interesting phenomenon; at the very least, it had stirred the competitive spirit in both of them.

Through the music, each knew what the other was thinking, but neither of them said it aloud.

It was rather like waiting to see who would be the first to yield.

All in all, however, the first rehearsal could be counted a success.

After hearing Li An’s words, Chen Xuan gave a soft huff, then picked up her phone and saw a message from Wang Panpan.

“Panpan says to meet for lunch. Want to come?”

Li An glanced at the clock; it was still early. “You two go ahead. I’ll think about it later.”

Chen Xuan nodded. She knew Li An still had work to handle in the afternoon and evening, and at noon he would definitely be practicing.

Watching her leave, Li An turned his gaze back to the accompaniment score before him.

After studying it for a while, he shook his head with a smile; Chen Xuan’s musical personality was even stronger than he had imagined.

A moment later, he took out a Czerny 299, turned to page eleven, and began today’s practice.

At two in the afternoon, students began emerging one after another from the elevator, and the ninth floor of Yudong once again took on the feel of an exam-preparation rush.

The program list had been finalized, and each teacher’s group entered a busy, tense rehearsal atmosphere.

At half past three, Xu Li arrived on time with Wang Xiaohu outside Classroom Four.

Seeing the door open and no one inside, she had just taken out her phone when a voice beside her said, “Teacher!”

Xu Li looked over and saw the male teacher from the stage that day walking toward her.

“You must be Xiaohu’s mother.”

A flash of admiration passed through Li An’s eyes. In all his years of teaching, this woman’s appearance and bearing were surely one of a kind—elegant and beautiful.

“Hello, Teacher Li.”

Xu Li extended her hand with a slight smile. “Thank you for your trouble during this time.”

Seeing that she was taking the initiative to shake hands, Li An reached out lightly, gave her hand a brief shake, and let go.

“Please come in.”

The moment Wang Xiaohu entered the classroom, he ran straight to the piano and started playing, as if he loved practice enormously.

Li An pulled a chair over for Xu Li, then sent Wang Panpan a message asking her to make some tea and bring it over.

Li An had invited Xu Li today for two reasons: first, to talk to Wang Xiaohu about the piece for the performance; second, to meet the parent. Besides that, Wang Xiaohu still had two lessons left, and it was time to renew the tuition.

Five minutes later, Wang Panpan knocked and brought in two cups of tea. As she left, she couldn’t help glancing at Xu Li’s face a little longer.

“Please sit. I’ll talk to the child first about this stage performance.”

He pushed the tea cup toward Xu Li, then sat beside Wang Xiaohu and took out the piano arrangement of Summer he had prepared.

Considering that Wang Xiaohu did not practice at home, Li An had planned for the boy to play only the hands-apart melody, with the rest left to him.

That way, the piece could be brought together in the shortest possible time, while still ensuring quality.

“Xiaohu, have you seen Kikujiro’s Summer?”

Wang Xiaohu shook his head. “No.”

“Then you must have heard this music, right?”

As he spoke, Li An began playing Summer on the piano. The moment the lively, playful introduction rang out, Wang Xiaohu lit up.

“Oh, this one. I’ve heard it.”

That was enough. Without stopping, Li An played through the whole piece once.

“It’s not long. When the time comes, how about we perform this together onstage?”

Wang Xiaohu did not care what he played at all. So long as he could go onstage with Li An, the piece itself was unimportant.

But the premise had to be that he could actually play it; he did not want to be dead weight.

So he nodded with a little grown-up air. “No problem, Teacher. Just teach me how to play it.”

Li An thought to himself that having the mother accompany him really did make a difference. Seeing Wang Xiaohu so eager, his confidence in the performance grew even stronger.

“Come, let’s talk about the key signature first.”

Wang Xiaohu answered at once, “D major. You have to raise F and C.”

“Very good.”

Li An pointed to the score. “Start from the last beat of the fourth measure. This group of sixteenth notes should be played staccato. Try it.”

Wang Xiaohu eagerly stretched out his hand, reading the score as he played la-re-mi-fa in succession on the keyboard. Just as he was about to feel proud—pa! Li An slapped his hand.

Still puzzled, he suddenly understood and changed the last fa to F-sharp.

“Oops, my mistake.”

With a cheeky grin, Wang Xiaohu looked at the next group of notes. “mi-re-re.”

Muttering the notes under his breath, his fingers pressed them down, and in no time he had reached the ninth measure.

There Wang Xiaohu stopped and looked up. “How do you play this string of candied hawthorns?”

Li An explained, “That’s a chord. We’ll learn that later. For now, you only need to play the top note.”

In coordination with Wang Xiaohu’s single notes, Li An added the remaining chord tones with his own hand.

The rich colors of the sound emerged at once.

Wang Xiaohu was clearly excited. “Fun, fun!”

By the window, watching her son sit happily at the piano, Xu Li rummaged through her memories for a long time.

It seemed that ever since her husband had passed away, she had never again seen Wang Xiaohu so joyful.

Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to Li An beside him.

As a mother, she owed Li An a word of thanks.