Professor Yu, much the same as ever, and much the same serious business.

Li An’s answer pleased Hu Rong greatly. His explanation was clear, well-organized, and the final sentence showed he understood her point. Clearly, he was a clever man. In her mind, Li An had already passed the first two rounds. Now, it remained to be seen whether his actions would be as methodical as his words.

“Mr. Li, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, please have a seat and rest. Enjoy some tea. In a little while, we’ll go upstairs to take a look.”

With that, Hu Rong rose and left the living room. Li An took up the teacup, blew gently on the surface, inhaled the pleasant aroma, and took a small sip.

Bitter. He couldn’t enjoy it.

After a while, Hu Rong returned and escorted Li An upstairs. As the sound of piano music grew louder, the issue with the child’s fingerwork became ever more apparent to his ears.

They passed through several corridors before stopping at a white door.

“Yangyang, Mr. Li is here.”

After two knocks, the music inside ceased. Hu Rong turned the handle and pushed the door open. In front of Li An, an upright and a grand piano stood side by side in a straight line.

Against the backdrop of pale lavender walls, a short-haired girl in light-colored linen trousers and a long-sleeved shirt stood up from the grand piano.

At the sight of the child’s face, Li An was instantly reminded of his high school class monitor—the two shared an almost identical air and bearing.

Her delicate features glimmered with a mischievous smile, as if she might, at any moment, go report to the head teacher.

This was clearly a sharp kid.

“Yangyang, this is Mr. Li An.”

Hu Rong made the introduction.

Ji Yang greeted him politely, “Hello, teacher,” her large eyes rolling over Li An’s face several times.

Li An replied calmly, “Hello.”

Hu Rong glanced at her watch. “Mr. Li, shall we begin?”

She drew a chair to the window and sat down.

Ji Yang returned to the piano, while Li An approached and cast a glance at the instrument.

“C3X?” he asked with curiosity. “Has this piano been voiced?”

Ji Yang was even more intrigued. “How did you know?”

Li An didn’t mind the informal address and explained, “The C3X's tone is naturally a bit thin and bright—not as rich as European pianos. Only after voicing does it take on the sound it has now. When I heard you playing from the corridor, I thought it was a European piano.”

Ji Yang blinked twice and continued asking, “Then, teacher, do you think my Little Seven sounds good now?”

Little Seven?

Was she treating this C3X like a pet?

Li An smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “Very good. In fact, aside from the single-note timbre being a little ordinary, the C3X is hard to fault. The touch is excellent—you must know that well. Many professionals choose the C3X and then have it voiced, pursuing both touch and tone.”

Ji Yang turned proudly to Hu Rong by the window. “Hear that? I don’t need a new piano at all!”

[Ji Yang’s teacher-student index has risen to 2.]

Li An was momentarily confused, then pieced together the context. Had he just said something wrong?

He glanced at Hu Rong, who wore a helpless look, trying to maintain a stern expression. “Yangyang, focus on your lesson now—the teacher is still here. Mind your manners.”

Ji Yang let out a nonchalant noise and turned back, now viewing Li An in a more favorable light.

The new teacher-student pair began chatting amiably.

By the window, Hu Rong hadn’t expected such a little episode before the trial lesson even began. She didn’t understand any of it, but Professor Yu, Ji Yang’s main teacher, had said last year that it was about time for a new piano. That’s what prompted her to consider buying an upgrade.

But Ji Yang treated this Yamaha as a treasure. No one was allowed to touch it; even the practice teacher could only use the upright. So a replacement was out of the question, and the matter had sparked a few mother-daughter arguments.

After hearing Li An’s comments, Hu Rong’s feelings didn’t change much. Setting aside Professor Yu’s advice, she still wanted to buy a more expensive piano for her daughter. In her mind, price equaled quality; the more expensive, the better. Good tools would surely help Yangyang’s studies.

Still, Li An’s earlier remarks increased her respect for his expertise. The last time, when she’d paid a fortune to hire a certified Steinway technician, he’d said much the same.

As in previous lessons, Ji Yang began by updating Li An on her recent practice and Professor Yu’s assignments.

“Last week, Professor Yu told me to keep speeding up,” Ji Yang reported.

Li An noted it down. “And the week before?”

“Still speeding up.”

Li An frowned. “Recall the last month’s lessons and tell me everything.”

Ji Yang recited, and Li An recorded. When he finished, he summed up: for a whole month, Ji Yang’s lessons had consisted of just one thing—speeding up.

This was a private piano lesson from a professor at a top-tier music department.

No wonder, in the original memories, the music program at Rongcheng Normal was utterly overshadowed by the conservatory.

It wasn’t unusual—most places were like this.

But Professor Yu was taking it to an absurd degree.

Increasing by five beats per lesson...

If speeding up alone could solve a student’s fingerwork issues, then all the music colleges in the country might as well close down.

Li An put away his pen and glanced at the sheet music Ji Yang used for lessons with Professor Yu. He skimmed through it; it was impeccably clean—just a few dynamic markings and nothing else?

At this point, Professor Yu’s image in Li An’s mind overlapped perfectly with that of a certain piano professor in his previous life, notorious for not even using the pedal.

“Play it through for me. Let’s hear the result of your week’s practice at speed.”

Li An could already tell that Ji Yang’s finger technique was problematic, but he needed to listen and observe up close to pinpoint the root.

Ji Yang took a deep breath and raised her arms.

Then her hands fell.

Li An thought, That’s much too stiff—raising the wrists so high, how can she control the attack?

Sure enough, a painfully rigid note exploded in his ear the next moment.

As she played, he took notes again.

Four agonizing minutes passed.

The tempo improvement... was slower than a middle-schooler he’d taught before.

When Ji Yang finally completed her “speeded-up” version of the Black Key Etude, Li An’s pen was still moving.

So many problems.

So many, he hardly knew where to begin.

If he were the main teacher, and his college entrance exam student handed in a week’s assignment like this with only six months left, he’d be angry—girl or not, she’d get a stern talking-to.

Was this any way to prepare for an art exam?

But as he saw it, Ji Yang’s biggest issue wasn’t this piece, but her entire approach to playing the piano.

From his analysis during her performance, he reached a surprising conclusion—

Ji Yang didn’t seem like a piano student who had received rigorous training from childhood.

Her hand shape, wrist habits, even her sense of tone—all wrong.

Li An still didn’t know when Ji Yang had started studying with Professor Yu.

But he could say with certainty: if she didn’t change teachers within two months and continued with Professor Yu, unless she found an exceptionally skilled and attentive mentor in college, her future with the piano would be forever limited.

For a moment, Li An hesitated. The girl had made a good impression on him—lively, endearing, and quite talented, at least no worse than Liu Fengrui.

But he quickly recalled why he was here, and remembered the subtle hint from the girl’s mother downstairs.

Instantly, he collected himself.

Think of rent, think of debts, think of the hard-won opportunity, and of Huang Juan and her cousin’s recommendation.

Securing this trial lesson was his real task today.

Two hundred forty—this was what mattered.