Of no consequence

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.

Chen Xuan’s stomach erupted in a trio of sounds once again, leaving her a little embarrassed.

Li An appeared behind her, producing a boxed meal and handing it to her.

Chen Xuan looked at him in surprise. “Isn’t this tonight’s dinner? Didn’t you eat?”

“I never eat before going on stage,” Li An replied, bringing the box closer to her. “You still have plenty of time before your turn—have something to tide you over. Isn’t there a saying: ‘sing hungry, play full’?”

Chen Xuan accepted it without hesitation, thanked him, and immediately began unwrapping and eating.

She hadn’t had dinner because she’d eaten too much at lunch; according to her usual habits, she wouldn’t need to eat again today—perhaps some fruit later at most. Yet, it wasn’t even eight o’clock, and her stomach was already growling.

While Chen Xuan ate, Li An’s attention moved to the stage.

Since joining the team, he had never heard Lin Pengfei perform a complete piece.

Now, he was curious to see how Lin Pengfei would handle this Moszkowski étude.

Op.72, No.2.

After the prolific studies of Clementi, Czerny, and Kramers, this distinguished set of Moszkowski piano technique études became widely used. The pieces of Op.72 possess a distinctive style, with rich harmonic textures and fluent, flowing melodic lines.

Its vivid musical imagery verges on the concert étude, and the second piece, in particular, poses certain technical challenges; to play it well, the performer must also possess expressive artistry.

As the applause faded, Lin Pengfei took his seat at the piano, rubbing his palms together before positioning his hands.

With a single breath, his left hand began its run, and at the moment the second triplet started, his right hand dropped a chord with steady precision.

Steadiness meant solidity; solidity meant brilliance.

Under the opening instruction of “brilliant allegro,” Lin Pengfei’s first phrase could easily score eighty points.

The only flaw was the tempo.

In études where the left hand runs fast triplets and the right hand primarily plays chords, the overall speed often hinges on the length of the first chord in the right hand.

Setting aside amateur pianists and young learners, for those who have undergone professional training, a slightly prolonged right-hand chord at the outset signals the pianist’s decision to play at a relatively slower tempo.

Just as Lin Pengfei was doing now.

Once the right hand’s opening chord set the pace, Lin Pengfei’s left hand maintained that speed throughout the triplets for the entire piece.

He never changed tempo from start to finish.

This, too, demonstrated control, but ultimately he played it safe and didn’t reach the composer’s intended speed.

Li An wondered: if Lin Pengfei increased the tempo by fifteen beats, could his left hand still perform those large-scale runs cleanly and clearly? Would the hands alternate seamlessly?

Such questions sprang to mind, for increasing the speed inevitably involves hand shape control and coordination between arms and wrists.

Playing piano is, after all, a movement where every element affects the whole.

Of course, music is more than just speed, but those who proclaim that inner expression outweighs everything else always pretend not to notice—

Tempo is a precise gauge hanging above the performer’s head, measuring their upper limits from the very first note.

Perhaps Lin Pengfei played conservatively, or perhaps he hadn’t practiced this piece in depth.

It was obvious to everyone present that Lin Pengfei did not perform from memory.

Li An refrained from making rash judgments, analyzing instead from a professional piano teacher’s perspective.

After hearing Lin Pengfei’s étude, he found himself looking forward to his next piece.

To be honest, Li An had only practiced this Prokofiev work himself, never studied it with a teacher, whereas Lin Pengfei had spent several years abroad.

As the final majestic chords descended, Lin Pengfei finished the étude assessment with a flourish, raising his hands gracefully.

By now, the atmosphere on site felt more like a concert than before; students and parents were visibly more attentive during Lin Pengfei’s performance.

It made sense—for many ordinary parents, the piano carries a more classical aura than the saxophone.

Watching the performer in black formal wear on stage, surrounded by quiet, bright stage lights, and that grand piano, it was easy to conjure images of renowned pianists in concert.

The sense of involvement comes so naturally.

After a brief pause, Lin Pengfei began the next piece.

If the previous étude tested the left hand’s agility, this work required the right hand to quickly and lightly execute broken chords in a repeating pattern.

Perhaps because he’d chosen a cautious tempo for the étude, Lin Pengfei opted for a faster pace in this piece.

The first eleven bars flowed naturally, each note delivered lightly and brightly to the audience.

But from the twelfth bar, with the run of the B-flat major broken chord, the upper register of the piano began to show occasional accents.

This subtly revealed that Lin Pengfei’s right hand could not quite master this passage at that speed, though most in the audience would not notice.

He quickly adjusted, using both pedals to regain the rhythmic flow in the left hand melody at bar sixteen, and slightly slowed the overall tempo.

Then he successfully completed the middle section with its dance-like character, carrying the piece to its conclusion.

He finished the piece with skill and without mishap.

If one were to nitpick, he missed a note in the glissando at bar thirty-eight.

But it hardly mattered.

It hardly mattered.

Thinking this, Lin Pengfei rose and bowed.

A minute on stage, a minute backstage.

Four minutes later, Lin Pengfei returned from the stage amid applause. The first person he saw was not Zhang Youwei, but Li An, smiling at him.

“Not bad?”

He wiped sweat from his forehead, asking casually—with a hint of expectation in his eyes.

Li An gave a thumbs-up. “Well played.”

Lin Pengfei, always lacking confidence on stage, hadn’t expected such high praise from Li An. The smile beneath his brows was nearly impossible to hide.

“You’re exaggerating—now it’s your turn.”

With Zhang Youwei accompanying him, he left.

Li An turned and happened to see Ni Hongjie helping Jia Lu carry the guzheng toward the exit.

As they approached, he quickly stepped aside and asked if they needed help.

“Thanks, just set it here,”

Carefully placing the guzheng down, Jia Lu quietly peeked into the concert hall.

Turning back, she patted her chest, “Oh my god, there are so many people out there. I’m doomed.”

Ni Hongjie also craned his neck for a look—the audience was indeed a dark sea of faces.

Neither had ever played a solo on such a grand stage; both felt a burst of nerves.