Chapter 97: Undoubtedly a Genius

Zhang Liang recounted his morning's miserable ordeal to Huang Guolun: “Our house is quite far from the school, you know. I have to transfer between two buses every day to get there. This morning was no different. On the second bus, an elderly lady got off, leaving her seat empty. I was closest, so I was about to sit down. Just then, the driver hit the brakes, and a man holding a roasted sweet potato got startled. He dropped it onto the seat, but I didn’t notice. I sat right down, and then—‘squelch’…”

Huang Guolun was amused by the sound Zhang Liang made and asked, “Did you squash the sweet potato?”

“Yeah, talk about bad luck! The filling got everywhere, smeared all over my pants.”

“So you went home to change?”

“No,” Zhang Liang gestured as he spoke, “I saw it wasn’t too much, and the man apologized for ages. I thought I’d just wipe it off with some paper and be done with it—no way I’d go all the way home just to change. But then Liu Lu, that big-mouthed girl from our class, along with another friend, boarded the same bus. They saw me wiping the sweet potato off my pants and thought I’d sat in something worse. They kept teasing me, calling me ‘Flying Man,’ and it really ticked me off! I told them it was sweet potato, but they wouldn’t believe me. In a fit of rage, I licked a bit right off my pants to show them! But Liu Lu and her friend kept joking that I was eating something else. Then a lady nearby, who didn't understand what was going on, thought I really was eating something disgusting. She couldn’t hold it in and ended up vomiting her morning soy milk all over me. Oh, it was revolting! At that moment, I honestly wanted to die!”

Remembering the scene, Zhang Liang wore a look of agony as he complained, “I was so unlucky! After that, I got off the bus as fast as I could and ran all the way home to shower and change.”

Huang Guolun nodded sympathetically, chuckling.

“Sigh…” Zhang Liang said, dejected, “My luck’s been terrible lately, as if a misfortune god has possessed me. I absolutely must go to Yonghe Temple this week to burn incense and pray.”

“If you’d pay more attention and stop being so careless, you wouldn’t have so many troubles,” Huang Guolun advised.

“Teacher Huang, seeing how miserable I’ve been lately, can we not sing world-famous songs in next week’s music class?” Zhang Liang pleaded.

“That’s not possible. Having you sing those songs is to help you build confidence.”

“Teacher Huang, I’m already bursting with confidence—I don’t need more. Please, spare me for a few weeks and let me recover.”

“If you really don’t want to sing, I won’t force you.”

Zhang Liang was taken aback, not expecting the usually strict Huang Guolun to relent. His face lit up with surprise. “You mean I really don’t have to sing anymore?”

“It’s up to you. If you truly don’t want to, you don’t have to. But I think if you keep singing until New Year’s, your confidence will grow significantly. If you sign up for the New Year’s Singing Gala, you’ll have a good chance of being selected.”

Zhang Liang hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Huang Guolun’s words reminded him of the New Year’s Gala. “You mean I should take part in the Gala?”

“Your group, Guan Qiangguo and the rest, took third place at the school anniversary performance, and first in singing. You caused a sensation—many students probably want to hear you sing again. Don’t you want to stand out one more time?”

“Of course!” Zhang Liang’s spirits soared at the mention of standing out. “Teacher Huang, would you still be willing to guide us? Without your guidance, we’d be hopeless. With your direction, we can keep advancing in style!”

“Haha, stop flattering me. If you don’t want to keep singing, what would I guide you for?”

“Who said I don’t want to sing? Teacher Huang, please don’t misunderstand me!”

Zhang Liang’s attitude shifted completely, and he was bursting with energy as he promised Huang Guolun, “The Republican-era classic ‘Night Shanghai’ you assigned me this week—I’ve practiced it thoroughly! I can’t wait to sing it for the class in your music lesson. Teacher Huang, if you think I haven’t practiced enough, assign me more songs—I’ll practice more! As long as I keep singing, you’ll guide us for the New Year’s Gala, right?”

Huang Guolun smiled, “It depends on your performance. If you keep singing earnestly, I’ll naturally guide you. But if you slack off or cut corners, I’ll have no reason to help.”

“Don’t worry, Teacher Huang, I’ll sing with all my effort! I won’t let you down! Next week, you’ll see—I’ll let you hear the revived male version of Zhou Xuan singing ‘Night Shanghai’!”

“Go to class now, stop boasting. Next week in music class, I’ll check your progress.”

“No problem! I’ll amaze you next week! Teacher Huang, I’m off to class now. See you later!”

Excitedly, Zhang Liang bid farewell to Huang Guolun and, as if recharged, dashed off to the classroom, full of vigor.

Watching Zhang Liang’s lively figure disappear, Huang Guolun felt a sense of gratification.

Though Zhang Liang was so enthusiastic because he saw another chance to stand out, ultimately, it was thanks to music—it was music that changed him.

If music could make others’ lives more beautiful or add richness to their days, Huang Guolun would feel deeply satisfied and accomplished.

That noon, Huang Guolun met Sun Yanzhen, whom he hadn’t seen for several days, and they had lunch together. Afterward, they returned to the teachers’ lounge set aside for their midday rest.

At twelve-fifty, the two met again and headed to the music classroom in the auxiliary building.

Sun Yanzhen had arranged for the ten boys and twenty-five girls chosen from her class for the choir, as well as the pianist Dongfang Liang and the guzheng accompanist Zhang Jing, to gather promptly at one o’clock in the music classroom. Huang Guolun would provide forty minutes of choral guidance.

During lunch, Sun Yanzhen had already warned Huang Guolun: her students were a bit spoiled by her, unruly and mischievous, especially lively and outgoing. If they played any excessive pranks, she asked Huang Guolun to be patient and not get upset with them.

On the way to the music classroom, she cautioned him again, “You’ll need to pay special attention to Dongfang Liang. He’s quite lazy and unmotivated, never enthusiastic about anything. He didn’t want to join the choir competition—thought rehearsing was a waste of time. Nothing I said moved him. I tried coaxing and threatening, but he refused. Finally, I called his father and suggested he participate in more group activities. His dad convinced him, but Dongfang Liang himself is still not very keen. If you hadn’t insisted on having a piano accompanist, I wouldn’t have let him join the choir at all.”

“I never said we absolutely needed a piano accompanist,” Huang Guolun replied. “With Zhang Jing’s guzheng accompaniment, it’s enough; the piano just adds a little extra. If Dongfang Liang really doesn’t want to participate, don’t force him. If he’s not invested, he could ruin the whole choir.”

“So it wasn’t necessary to have a piano accompanist! If only I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to ‘invite’ Dongfang Liang. When we get there, I’ll let him do whatever he wants—no need for him to rehearse.”

“If he’s willing, let him practice; having piano accompaniment would enhance the performance. If he’s not, then let him do as he pleases.”

As they spoke, they entered the auxiliary building.

Inside the first-floor lobby, Huang Guolun immediately heard piano music coming from the third-floor music classroom.

Sun Yanzhen heard it too and told him, “That must be Dongfang Liang playing. I forgot to mention—besides being lazy, he’s also quite arrogant and loves to show off. He’s probably showing off his piano skills to his classmates now.”

“Honestly, he has the right to show off; he plays very well—Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2.”

After listening for a moment, Huang Guolun recognized the piece as Chopin’s E-flat major Nocturne, the second in the series.

This Nocturne is exceptionally moving, one of Chopin’s masterpieces—arguably the most beloved nocturne in the world.

Before his revelation, Huang Guolun considered Chopin’s E-flat major Nocturne the most beautiful nocturne he’d ever heard, bar none.

But after his mind was opened by the lunchbox incident, he found another version of the E-flat major Nocturne in his head, even more luminous and touching, more accessible and poetic than Chopin’s own No. 2.

He didn’t know that the nocturne in his mind was also composed by Chopin—but Chopin from another world.

He had played this nocturne at home before.

While playing, he felt as if he had transformed into a piano poet like Chopin, intoxicated by his own music.

After acquiring his miraculous hearing, he was often captivated by the musical brilliance flowing from within himself.

When that brilliance shone, he always felt a marvelous collision of artistic souls, as if they came from distant galaxies, yet resided within him, gifting him boundless musical inspiration.

The reason he was so moved by his own music was this magical feeling of sparking musical flames with other artistic souls.

Such sensations were indescribable—something he had never experienced before the lunchbox opened his mind.

He didn’t understand what kind of extraordinary state this was. Perhaps every genius experiences this mysterious state of “art is innate and mastery comes by chance.”

In any case, he now firmly believed he was undeniably a musical genius.