5. Commencement: Li An’s Piano Studio

The next morning, Li An woke early, and a string of unread messages on his phone from eight hours prior jolted him fully awake. The timing of the messages was sensitive; his first thought was whether Yu Xiaobei’s parent had sent a request for leave last night. He opened the messages and breathed a sigh of relief—they were from the group chat of the four-person squad from the west office.

A Potato Grower: If you’re my brother, come chop me.
Persistent Waves: Chopped.
Leaf: Chopped.
Persistent Waves: Hey, chop me too.
A Potato Grower: Why am I still short by 0.02? Ma Tao, give me a hand!
A Potato Grower: @Eight Thousand One An, come quickly!
Persistent Waves: Stop shouting, An’s already gone to bed.
Leaf: Old man behavior.

Three people, up in the middle of the night, fussing over cash red packets on Pinduoduo. Li An casually helped two of them with a chop and continued scrolling through the chat. The madness had infected them all—even Chen Xuan joined in at the end. So Li An also helped Chen Xuan with a chop.

He scrolled until he saw Xu Hongxin’s screenshot at 2:20 AM, showing he’d successfully claimed a 100-yuan cash red packet. Li An was envious. He clicked the link himself, and after a round of operations, he found himself just 10 cents short of claiming the hundred-yuan reward.

A moment later.

Eight Thousand One: Morning, everyone.
Eight Thousand One: Chop me too.

He got up. Showered.

"You get out, there’s no more sausages." After chasing Eight Thousand out, Li An locked the door behind him.

‘Meow——’

At 7:55, Li An arrived punctually at the base of Yudong Building. He exited the elevator, exchanged greetings with Wang Meili, and headed straight for the classroom.

At the door to Classroom 3, Yu Xiaobei’s mother was already waiting with her child. Seeing Li An arrive, Xiaobei’s mother came forward to greet him, then briefly explained Xiaobei’s practice routine for the week.

"Sorry, Teacher Li, this week Xiaobei only practiced for an hour on Wednesday and Friday evenings. There's just too much homework from school."

Li An nodded in understanding. "To keep practicing piano with exams coming up—Xiaobei’s doing great."

"Let’s go, Xiaobei, time for class." Li An entered the classroom, opened the window, and Yu Xiaobei obediently sat at the piano to begin warming up.

Five minutes later, Xiaobei’s seventh lesson officially began.

Li An opened the textbook to Ciboli’s Fughetta in E-flat Minor—a level three piece.

"Come on, Xiaobei, relax, don’t be nervous." In truth, Xiaobei wasn’t nervous at all; she simply feared making mistakes, so she always maintained a cautious state during lessons. In reality, she had practiced this piece at home until she could play it flawlessly.

Taking a deep breath, Xiaobei lifted her hand and pressed the keys. Her right hand played a short ascending scale, followed by three delightful staccato notes that tottered like wobbling roly-polies. The music swayed gently through the third measure, leading to the introduction of the left hand.

The minor melody’s unique melancholy unfolded tenderly between the child’s left and right hands, progressing smoothly to the end without a single mistake.

Having finished, Xiaobei withdrew her hands and looked at Li An.

Li An gave her a thumbs-up.

‘Yu Xiaobei’s teacher-student index rises to 58.’

The system flashed, and Li An felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Your fingering and rhythm are solid now, Xiaobei. Today, let’s talk more about the technique of dropping and lifting the wrist."

Upon hearing this, Xiaobei felt troubled. The teacher repeated this almost every lesson. She had practiced it extensively at home, yet her wrist movement still felt mechanical, lacking the natural ease the teacher described.

Li An understood Xiaobei’s feelings and comforted her gently, "No rush. We’ll take it step by step."

He sat at the other piano. "Listen closely, watch my wrist."

Lifting his hand and letting it fall, he played the same ascending scale at the same tempo. Li An's fingers struck the keys, and a string of notes flowed from his right hand like pearls cascading in succession.

Three measures passed in a single breath. When Li An’s left hand joined, the melody split suddenly into two lines.

The first time Xiaobei heard Li An’s demonstration, she hadn’t started practicing yet—she simply thought it sounded beautiful. Now, having mastered the piece herself, listening felt entirely different.

She longed to know why her teacher’s hands could bring out two distinct melodies so clearly.

In the air, the two melodic lines alternated between separation and unity, with attraction, resonance, collision, and distance.

Xiaobei watched Li An’s hands intently, as if trying to memorize every movement of those large hands.

When the music stopped abruptly, Xiaobei puffed her cheeks and let out a gentle breath.

‘Yu Xiaobei’s teacher-student index rises to 59.’
‘Yu Xiaobei’s teacher-student index rises to 61.’
‘Ding——’

‘Potential student’s index reaches 60. [Li An’s Piano Studio] function unlocked.’

‘Ding——’

‘Yu Xiaobei’s teacher-student index reaches 60, automatically entering Li An’s Piano Studio.’

The two consecutive chimes made Li An’s scalp tingle. He felt as if, all of a sudden, things were beginning to truly take shape.

Xiaobei, good child.

He withdrew his hands, suppressing his excitement.

First, continue the lesson.

Li An’s demonstration aimed to help Xiaobei understand the importance of the drop-and-lift technique. This was a skill she ought to have grasped in her early piano studies, but only began learning after starting lessons with him.

Because she hadn’t developed good wrist habits from the start, correcting them now was troublesome.

Compared to Wang Xiaohu, Li An had to admit that at least Wang’s first teacher was reliable.

After thinking for a moment, Li An felt it necessary to further explain the drop-and-lift motion to Xiaobei.

"Xiaobei, let me repeat," he said.

"Drop refers to the downward movement of the wrist."

"Lift refers to the upward movement."

"Specifically, between two notes, you let the first note fall naturally under the weight of your arm, then use the shift in your center of gravity to carry strength to the second note, and then lift—"

"Hand—never mind."

Seeing Xiaobei’s increasingly confused eyes, he decided to change his approach.

His mind whirled, and Teacher Li An came up with a new plan.

"Let’s do this, Xiaobei."

"We won’t talk about wrist drop-and-lift for now. Instead, let’s discuss the slur."

Li An pointed to the fifth measure in the score, right hand section. "Look at the slur connecting #dol to si."

"The composer uses this line to link these two notes, making them a unit with a certain expression and tendency. So when we play, we must avoid any break between them."

"When you play, it should sound like a two-syllable word, not two unrelated syllables forced together."

"For example, playing these two notes is like saying ‘hello’—when you say it, others immediately understand."

"Your current issue is that others can’t tell what you’re saying."

Hearing this, Xiaobei seemed to suddenly grasp the concept.

"Does this make sense, Xiaobei?"

Xiaobei nodded.

"Okay, then let’s talk specifically about how to make it clear."