108. He and She at That Time

On a clear summer-autumn night, the stars shimmered brilliantly in the sky, with the Milky Way stretching from north to south. On either side of the Milky Way, there shone two bright stars, facing each other across the cosmic river: the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.

The Weaver Girl later evolved into a goddess in mythology, commonly known among the people as Seventh Sister, Heavenly Fairy Lady, or Seventh Lady Mother. She became the protector of clouds, lovers, and women.

This excerpt is taken from an unspecified newspaper.

It is clear that the Qixi Festival is a celebration centered around women.

Qin Yong was outstanding. On such a day, he not only prepared gifts for the female employees of Yudong but also prepared the same gifts for the male employees.

When they arrived at the office that morning, everyone found an exquisite paper gift bag on their desks.

Inside, there was a photo frame, a box of chocolates, and an accompanying card.

The handwritten note read "Happy Qixi."

The calligraphy was elegant and precise, neither too cramped nor too sparse, pleasing to the eye.

Each photo frame contained a different photograph.

Xu Hongxin received a candid shot of himself teaching a class—a secret snapshot?

"Who took this?" he wondered, unable to recall. He only remembered it was from when he first joined Yudong.

Ma Tao’s photo showed him standing in a hallway in formal attire, holding an instrument.

Ma Tao recognized it as the photo Wang Zhigang took when creating the teacher’s photo wall upon his arrival at Yudong.

At this, Xu Hongxin recalled as well.

Xu Hongxin glanced at Ma Tao’s photo frame and teased, “Looking all dapper.”

Ma Tao, in a good mood, ignored him.

Xu Hongxin noticed a mischievous gleam in Ma Tao’s eyes and leaned in quietly, “Got a date?”

Ma Tao smugly rubbed his nose, “Of course.”

He was quite different from yesterday.

Meanwhile, Li An set down his photo frame and looked toward Chen Xuan.

But Chen Xuan reached out her hand first.

So Li An handed over his photo frame and received Chen Xuan’s in return.

They both looked at each other as they had been four months ago, feeling a sense of "the person they once were."

Back then, Chen Xuan’s style was very androgynous—she often wore a beige baseball cap, tucking her hair behind her ears, letting it fall casually on her shoulders, giving off a streetwise vibe.

In Chen Xuan’s photo frame, Li An sat at his desk, turning his head toward the camera with a dazzling smile, holding a bowl of instant noodles, very down-to-earth. On the right side of the photo, Chen Xuan was adjusting the brim of her cap.

She had been a bit annoyed at the time, thinking Wang Zhigang deliberately included her in the shot.

So now she was reluctant to return the photo frame to Li An.

Just then, Wang Panpan walked over with her hands behind her back. “Sister Xuan, can I have a look?”

“This one, this one,” Li An waved the photo frame in his hand.

With Chen Xuan’s permission, Wang Panpan took it, then glanced at Chen Xuan again.

“Sister Xuan, you used to be so cool.”

Chen Xuan smiled, “Really?”

Wang Panpan nodded.

She thought the Chen Xuan in the photo was like a cool guy—completely unlike the Chen Xuan she had come to know at Yudong.

Speaking of which, she took the chance of returning the photo frame to appraise Chen Xuan’s current appearance.

She had expected Sister Xuan, who supposedly had a date today, to be dressed up flamboyantly.

But Chen Xuan’s simple white cotton T-shirt paired with high-waisted overalls looked like she was dressed for a spring outing.

Especially the little yellow duck canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

It reminded her vividly of her own high school days.

Only, in terms of looks, figure, and temperament, she was far from matching Sister Xuan.

No matter how she dressed, she couldn’t become the campus belle in two hours.

Wang Panpan was lamenting when Zhang Youwei knocked on the west office door.

“Woodwind group morning meeting.”

—

After a brief meeting,

“Everyone, try it out at home and report any issues in the group chat promptly.”

On the way out, each woodwind teacher held a new instrument.

The brand was called Repute, sounding like a rebranded instrument.

During the meeting, He Yiming emphasized that this was the sponsor’s instrument brand for the concert and that Yudong campus would likely promote this brand in the future.

—

As extra classes began with more students arriving, Yudong’s busy morning got underway.

At exactly nine o’clock, Li An waited in the classroom for mother and son, Chi Yu.

Regarding the problems Chi Yu showed yesterday during group rehearsal, Li An focused today’s lesson on training his sense of rhythm.

Rhythm, composed of the length and stress of beats, is the soul and pulse of music.

It is also the biggest obstacle for most young piano students learning music.

According to incomplete statistics, about seven hundred out of every thousand piano students struggle with rhythm.

And these seven hundred kids generally share one major issue: they cannot control the duration of notes properly.

Take Chi Yu as an example, likened to pouring water.

Imagine a whole note as an empty bottle; to perform correctly, one must fill this bottle, playing all four beats.

Chi Yu’s habit was to turn off the tap when the bottle was only two-thirds or less full.

This caused the notes to be too short and incomplete, disrupting the rhythm’s flow and ultimately pushing the music toward an indescribable chaos.

In the "My Motherland" ensemble, Chi Yu was responsible for many such passages, and his mistakes threw the entire harmonic progression off balance.

It was like a tripod missing one leg—the whole thing would collapse.

Many factors contributed to these problems.

Observing Chi Yu in class, Li An found that under strict supervision and metronome pressure, Chi Yu could fill the bottle without spilling.

Thus, Li An roughly concluded that the problem stemmed from past careless practice and lax teaching, not a lack of talent.

By the end of the one-hour lesson, most of Chi Yu’s issues were effectively resolved.

The child’s progress was visibly noticeable to his mother.

In her words, he played much better than the night before at home.

“Thank you, Teacher Li.”

Li An wiped the sweat from his temple. “You’re welcome. Little Chi is actually very smart.”

Hearing this, Chi Yu’s mother couldn’t help but smile—whether the words were sincere or not, Tian Yu had never been so courteous to her.

Moreover, Tian Yu gave the impression of not taking her child seriously, nothing like Teacher Li’s enthusiasm.

Comparing the two in her mind, and with Tian Yu’s sick leave indefinitely prolonged, she worried about further delays in her child’s piano progress.

Resolving to change teachers, she said to Li An, “Teacher Li, maybe Chi Yu should study with you from now on.”

Li An glanced at Chi Yu, who showed no reaction.

Then he looked at Chi Yu’s mother and said lightly, “I have no problem with that, but I suggest you discuss it with your child first. Changing teachers midway is a big deal for a student.”

He didn’t press further.

“If you decide, just apply to the school directly.”