The Former Chopin of the Canyon

Wang Xiaohu had become utterly obsessed with Honor of Kings over the past two months.

So... this is what a strategy guide looks like?

Li An thought to himself that this was nothing like he had imagined.

Just then, the sound of the door signaled Wang Xiaohu’s return.

Teacher Li An began the second half of the lesson.

As planned, he assigned Wang Xiaohu a new etude: Duvernoy’s Op.176 No.14—a level two piece. The difficulty was modest, a short work focusing on practicing scales of varying lengths and the right thumb. As a comprehensive review of Wang Xiaohu’s recent studies, it was perfectly suited.

After a brief overview of the piece, Li An performed it once through, hoping to give Wang Xiaohu a preliminary auditory impression. He then dissected the technical aspects of the piece in detail.

With that, he watched as Wang Xiaohu began practicing the new piece in earnest.

Time slipped by quickly, and it was nearly time for class to end.

Seizing a moment as Wang Xiaohu paused to drink some water, Li An casually probed, “Do you like playing on your phone in your free time?”

“Yeah.”

“Scrolling on TikTok?”

Wang Xiaohu curled his lip in disdain and replied coolly, “I only play Honor of Kings.”

Li An chuckled, amused by Wang Xiaohu’s apparent disdain for short videos, and continued, feigning curiosity, “You still play Honor of Kings?”

“Who doesn’t these days? Everyone in my class plays,” Wang Xiaohu retorted, clearly annoyed by the doubt, then eyed Li An suspiciously. “Do you play, teacher?”

Here it comes.

After a brief pause, Li An delivered his prepared line.

“Back in the day, your teacher was known as the Chopin of the Canyon—ranked seventh in the country with Yuange.”

(o_O)!

Wang Xiaohu’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “National ranking?!”

Li An smiled to himself—his plan had worked. Wang Xiaohu’s curiosity was now thoroughly piqued.

He had never actually logged into the game; the lines were improvised from the original host’s memories.

“Teacher, do you have a lot of limited skins?”

Li An ignored the question. “Alright, finals are this week. Try to play less and practice more when you’re home.”

“Same routine as always—knock before you leave.”

Without giving Wang Xiaohu a chance to ask anything further, Li An strolled out with an air of effortless mastery, as if he were a sage removed from the world.

Wang Xiaohu was left to savor the encounter alone.

Outside, Wang Xiaohu’s grandmother was already waiting. Seeing Li An emerge, she greeted him warmly.

“Thank you, Teacher Li. Was Xiaohu well-behaved today?”

Well-behaved? Listen to that.

“Xiaohu is always obedient in class—the same old issue, though: he doesn’t practice at home.”

Li An addressed the main concern gently.

He outlined his perspective on Wang Xiaohu’s current problem, hoping the family would take his home practice more seriously.

“We can’t expect a child to learn everything just from these weekly lessons.”

“If we continue like this, he’ll end up learning nothing.”

“It’s a waste of time and will only erode his interest in music.”

“Xiaohu has been learning piano for over a year. Even though he’s had two different teachers, the fact that he still comes to lessons shows that he genuinely likes the piano.”

“Since he enjoys it, we should work together to nurture that interest—turning liking into passion, and interest into a real hobby.”

“The reason we want him to learn piano isn’t for any particular achievement, but so he can find joy through music.”

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

The old lady nodded enthusiastically. “You’re absolutely right, Teacher Li. We insisted on piano lessons just to help him develop a good interest—so he wouldn’t be glued to his phone all the time.”

Speaking of phone games, she launched into a tirade, and Li An quickly gained a clear picture of Wang Xiaohu’s situation at home.

Normally, things were manageable, but weekends were a different story.

Once his homework was done and extracurricular classes were over, the rest of his time was spent on his phone.

His grandparents simply couldn’t control him.

“Are his parents not around?” Li An asked. When he took over Wang Xiaohu’s lessons, the contact information had listed the grandmother’s number, which was unusual—normally, it would be one of the parents.

After her explanation, he realized that neither parent had ever brought Wang Xiaohu to class.

The grandmother sighed. “His mother is too busy. For the past two years, he’s basically lived with us.”

Li An nodded thoughtfully.

After a moment, he said, “I understand.”

“So, Grandma, let’s take it step by step. I’ll continue guiding him here, and at home, you and Grandpa can encourage him more. Let’s work from both ends.”

He knocked on the door as he spoke. “We’ll observe for a while and see.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher Li. Xiaohu is really lucky to have such a responsible teacher.”

“No need for such praise,” Li An waved his hands, a little uncomfortable.

Soon, Wang Xiaohu came out, holding his exam booklet. Li An handed him over to the grandmother. “We’ll meet again after finals next week.”

“Xiaohu, say goodbye to your teacher.”

“Goodbye, Teacher Li.”

As they were leaving, Wang Xiaohu suddenly turned back and called out, “Teacher, do you use WeChat or QQ?”

His clear, childish voice rang through the hall.

“Focus on reviewing for your exams this week. I’ll tell you next time.”

Leaning against the doorframe, Li An waved goodbye to his only student that Saturday.

The system blinked: “Wang Xiaohu’s student-teacher index has risen to 11.”

...Heh.

“Tsk, tsk. It really has to be Teacher Li.”

Li An turned and saw Chen Xuan emerge from Piano Room 4 next door, cradling a mug. Her upturned lips and slender, fair neck drew the eye.

Chen Xuan had overheard Li An’s conversation at the door with Wang Xiaohu’s grandmother as her class ended.

“Hearing you talk makes me want to learn piano from you.”

“Go for it,” Li An grinned. “Just sign up for forty lessons at the front desk, mention my name, and you’ll get a twenty percent discount.”

“Only twenty percent?”

“That’s because I once took two sticks of fried dough from you.”

“Stingy.”

“That’s called savvy living.”

“Then give back my fried dough.”

Chen Xuan was the flute teacher at the Yudong campus, having joined three days before Li An, and immediately became the focus of attention for the male teachers.

“Are you done for the day?” Li An checked his watch—it was already 9:10.

Unlike Li An, who had just started, flute teachers were in high demand across Rong City. When Chen Xuan first started, she had only three students, but after two months, her numbers had climbed to eight. Usually, she’d still be teaching at this hour on a Saturday.

“Both canceled today,” Chen Xuan replied.

Li An winced. “That’s a hundred and thirty yuan gone.”

Chen Xuan laughed. “What can you do?”

They walked together toward the west office.

“So, is it WeChat or QQ?” she asked suddenly.

The west office had been converted from a large piano room to accommodate the new hires at Yudong campus. The space was just right for four people.

Li An, the last to join, was also the oldest.

Inside, Xu Hongxin—who had no classes that Saturday—was clutching his phone, wailing, “Don’t throw it! We can win this!”

Seeing the two return, he greeted them briefly and immediately dove back into his game.

Within a minute, Ma Tao also returned to the office.

Glancing over the group, Ma Tao wondered if he’d wandered into the wrong room.

“Didn’t you see Old Dong’s message in the group chat? There’s a meeting on Monday.”

Xu Hongxin, still furiously tapping away, replied, “What Monday doesn’t have a meeting? Just tell us the main points.”

Ma Tao couldn’t be bothered and walked straight to Li An and Chen Xuan’s desks.

“Headquarters has given Yudong campus two spots for elite course teachers.”