Chapter 8

Song Yihuan only realized she was crying after the music stopped.

"I...I don't know either," she mumbled.

I don't know why I was picking a fight just now, and I don't know why I'm crying now.

Chi Ran didn't ask any further questions and said, "I'll take it as a compliment."

He stretched out his arm and rested it on the computer desk next to him, pulling out a tissue and handing it to her. She didn't take it immediately, so he hesitated and called out to her, "Song... Xiaofen."

"Song Yihuan." Her voice was nasal as she slowly took the paper. "How come you still haven't remembered my name?"

That's rude.

She wiped her face and said in a muffled voice, "What should we do if Qin Chao gets upset?"

"A hairdryer will do the trick," Chi Ran said casually, teasingly. "You like the zither that much?"

“Hmm,” Song Yihuan replied, “My family was poor when I was little, so we couldn’t afford it.”

Chi Ran said, "You can play anytime you want..."

He stopped halfway through his sentence.

"Hmm?" Song Yihuan asked suspiciously, "You're really that kind?"

After getting to know Chi Ran, she always felt that he was prickly. When he suddenly became kind, it was hard not to feel comfortable.

Chi Ran coughed lightly: "I didn't lend you the instrument for nothing."

Song Yihuan asked warily, "Then what do you want?"

He said with a hint of exasperation, "The person in the kitchen is driving me crazy with their cooking. Can you even cook?"

Hearing him say that, Song Yihuan breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Comparing myself to ordinary people is just a matter of skill, but comparing myself to him is like being a culinary god."

Chi Ran didn't say anything.

Song Yihuan quickly seized the opportunity: "In exchange for my cooking skills, one hour per meal, deal?"

Chi Ran paused for a moment, then said, "Deal."

Her tone didn't seem to indicate she had cried much; her emotions changed quite quickly.

It was said that a meal would take an hour, but when she brought a plate of braised pork ribs to his door the next day at noon, Qian Yu was full of gratitude and wished she would take the zither with her.

"Ah! This is what you call a gap! This is a gap!" Qian Yu sincerely praised the ribs in his hand. "Teacher Song, you are amazing."

Song Yihuan gave a few perfunctory replies and then hurriedly went to play the zither.

The classical piano has a rich and romantic tone, completely different from the feel of an electronic keyboard. She's never had classical piano accompaniment in her previous songs, and she's quite interested in practicing it, hoping to surprise her fans with a video.

She chose the simplest etude, intending to start with the simplest fingering.

"Myasthenia gravis?"

She was so focused on her practice that she didn't notice Chi Ran standing at the door. She replied unhappily, "You said yesterday that I have a strong grip."

"You have too much strength in your hands and wrists, and weak muscles in your fingers," Chi Ran commented.

Despite her displeasure, Song Yihuan humbly asked, "Then what should we do?"

“Hand shape like mine.” He walked in, stood beside me, and placed his fingers on the bass section.

Is this correct?

Hello, I'm blind.

…

Perhaps it was because he didn't look like a blind person that Song Yihuan kept forgetting.

Fortunately, he didn't mind and cheerfully said, "Make a semi-circle, suspend your wrist, and use your fingers to exert force."

Song Yihuan played the fingering as he instructed. After listening to him, he turned his head and said, "That's the idea. Relax your wrist again."

He demonstrated it again, and the lively music flowed naturally.

She tried it on, but something always felt different.

"Don't count the beats in your head, listen with your ears," he continued, demonstrating.

They each played one turn, and Song Yihuan could clearly feel her progress. An hour later, when the alarm rang, she was even a little reluctant to leave.

Qian Yu took a whole box of frozen black tiger prawns from the refrigerator and handed it to her without any hesitation: "We'll have this for dinner."

"Order more?" Song Yihuan frowned.

“Him,” Qian Yu pointed at Chi Ran, “used to teach music to celebrities, a two-hour session costing six figures.”

"How about braised prawns?" Song Yihuan asked with a beaming smile. "My entire net worth isn't even worth six figures."

"It was expensive before," Chi Ran said. "Now it's on sale."

Song Yihuan silently calculated that he had already said "liar" twice in just one hour.

The word "blind" appeared very frequently during our previous meetings.

It's okay not to shy away from the topic, but this is going too far!

Before dinner, Song Yihuan cooked braised prawns as promised.

The black tiger prawns are as big as a palm, but their pot is small. The prawn heads and tails touch the edge of the pot, slowly changing color in the thin oil, filling the whole house with aroma.

Guoguo stood by the stove and waited, her eyes fixed on the shrimp.

Song Yihuan splurged herself, selecting the largest ones for their dinner.

"It smells so good!" Guoguo said.

"You eat first! I'll go deliver the food and play the piano!!" Song Yihuan said excitedly, carrying the lunchbox.

When I knocked on the door next door, Qian Yu opened it almost instantly, making it reasonable to suspect that he was waiting for his meal behind the door.

"Here!" Song Yihuan handed it over, then changed her shoes and went inside, walking to the piano.

She didn't play the etude well at noon, but she didn't change the piece and continued practicing the same one.

As she played, she felt something was off; she couldn't recapture the feeling she had at noon.

She peeked out to ask Chi Ran, but he was peeling shrimp with a massage-like technique and obviously didn't have time to pay attention to her, so she had to give up.

The only reason to blame it is that the shrimp were eaten too slowly, and Chi Ran refused to stuff the whole shrimp into her mouth like Qian Yu did, and then spit out the shells.

By the time Chi Ran finished eating, almost an hour had passed.

Taking advantage of the last moment, Song Yihuan asked him, "Why can't I play these notes?"

Chi Ran crossed her arms and leaned lazily against the wall. "Maybe your fingers are short."

"How could that be!" Song Yihuan looked at her Doraemon-like small round hands, then at Chi Ran's slender fingers, and lacked confidence. "...They're not exactly short, are they?"

He placed his hands on the piano keys, pressing down with his thumb and little finger respectively, and asked, "Can you touch these two at the same time? This is the seventh."

Song Yihuan reached out and gestured on the two piano keys.

Chi Ran felt a sudden itch in her palm, followed by warmth; she couldn't tell if it was her knuckles or the back of her hand.

His fingers, which were lightly resting on the piano keys, suddenly missed, the keys fell, and the music began.

He pulled his hand back as if he had been burned.

"I managed to touch it!" She was so happy about her fingers not being short that she didn't even notice.

"What could you possibly touch, my hands?" He coughed lightly. "You press the mid-range keys, I'll press the bass keys, not that you're going to grab these two keys from my hands."

Although Song Yihuan had previously harbored some thoughts of taking advantage of him, she did not do so this time.

It's a huge injustice.

She stole a glance at him, and said, "Oh, okay."

He waited a moment before lowering his hand again: "This is octave. Seven-degree is fine for kids too."

Song Yihuan secretly glared at him again, then followed suit, managing to play the instrument with difficulty.

"Be gentle, don't pry the keys off my piano," he complained. "Is it going to be a little difficult?"

"Okay," she said, "I'll try again."

After several attempts, with precise hand positioning, she was able to successfully play the note.

“You can play the furthest octave of this piece,” he said. “Your hand position is correct right now, remember that.”

Just then, the alarm clock rang, signaling the time was up.

An agreement is an agreement, and besides, she couldn't stay in someone else's house indefinitely. Reluctantly, she picked up the sheet music and got up.

Before leaving, she turned back, unwilling to give up, and asked, "What range can you play?"

Chi Ran didn't answer. He raised his hand, then lowered it, easily pressing down the twelfth note without even touching the adjacent keys.

Song Yihuan secretly glared at him again.

"Chef Song's gone?" Qian Yu asked casually, lying on the sofa with his stomach in his hands. "Have you eaten?"

"No, we'll eat when we get back," she said.

“I’m free from 2 PM to 4 PM,” Chi Ran said, leaning against the bedroom door.

Song Yihuan didn't understand: "So you want to have afternoon tea?"

That's the extra price.

Chi Ran frowned slightly but remained silent.

"Oh, Ran-ge probably means you want to come play the piano this afternoon? That way he can teach you, and you can have a meal too," Qian Yu translated dutifully.

Looking at Chi Ran's expression, Song Yihuan found it hard to believe that this was what he meant.

Chi Ran remained silent for a long time before saying, "Two hours this afternoon. You don't need to come at noon or in the evening; Qian Yu will come begging for food."

“Yes, I’ll go begging for food,” Qian Yu said cooperatively.

It would be impolite not to accept a windfall.

"Teacher Chi!" Song Yihuan readily accepted the title of disciple. "Can I add you on WeChat, Teacher Chi?"

Chi Ran took out her phone from her pocket, but paused as soon as she put her finger on it and put it back in her pocket.

Qian Yu took out his phone to smooth things over: "Come on, add me. Your teacher Chi is practically a celebrity, so it's not easy for him to add you."

That's great! We got a very high-value teacher for free; she's practically a female celebrity.

Song Yihuan scanned the QR code to add Qian Yu on WeChat and happily went home for dinner.

After everyone left, Chi Ran returned to her bedroom and had just taken out her earphones to put them on when Siri announced something emotionlessly:

"Assistant Qian Yu has invited you and Daydream to join the group chat."

"Assistant Qian Yu changed the group chat name to: Music Dining Table."

Before he could speak, Qian Yu at the door shouted, "You're welcome!"

"What should I thank you for?" he asked.

"If you don't want to add people, why did you take out your phone?" Qian Yu said bluntly. "It's just that you didn't bring earphones. The phone will play voice messages aloud. You don't want that?"

Chi Ran didn't say anything.

Qian Yu bluntly exposed him: "I can tell you're not that resistant to teaching her. You wouldn't even teach Sister Ying's niece for 5,000 yuan a lesson before, so why are you taking on cheap apprentices here?"

"If we don't collect them soon, they'll starve to death," Chi Ran said.

"You're welcome, you're welcome," Qian Yu said. "Add the 'Cook God' in the group chat, and maybe we can get a free meal after this stay-at-home period ends. Let's go!"

"No."

Chi Ran closed the door and sat on the piano bench, lost in thought.

Song Yihuan is a girl who is really hard to understand. She has a kind of personality that is similar to being outgoing, but much more exaggerated.

In just a few days, he witnessed her forcing him to sell himself, fainting, and crying—behaviors far exceeding the bounds of normal social interaction. Any one of these actions in front of a stranger would be enough to cause social death, yet she seemed unconcerned, continuing to appear before him repeatedly.

I don't care about his opinion or his judgment. I just do what I need to do and still insist on playing his piano without any hesitation.

She seems like a girl who can cause a lot of trouble for others, so it's best to avoid contact with her.

But somehow, their relationship still grew much closer.

He slowly turned his head, sensing the light in the bedroom. The light in his bedroom was very bright, but the furniture was mainly black, white, and gray, so he couldn't perceive any color at all.

When Song Yihuan was practicing the piano, he could see her striking pink hair as soon as he entered the room, and his attention was always drawn to her.

His vision was narrow and dim, like a lighthouse on a remote island that had long since ceased operation, no longer sending out a bright signal or making contact with distant ships.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the passing canvas bringing gusts of pink wind.

So even though the wind had no boundaries, and even though it was a bit troublesome, he still acquiesced.

He clicked into the group chat details, and then clicked into Daydream's personal profile page.

Siri continued its monotone announcement: "...Daydream, friend information, add to contacts, add, add, add to..."

He repeatedly selected "Add to Contacts" but never double-clicked to confirm.

In the end, he didn't add it and tossed the locked phone aside.

Because it's meaningless.

Rather than saying he was willing to teach inexpensive apprentices, it was more of a way for him to pass the time while bored at home. Once this period is over, the matter will be over, and it won't have any special significance.

The purpose of having boundaries is to define a safe zone, and then stay inside it obediently and not come out.

Just then, Siri started broadcasting again.

"Daydream requests to add you as a friend."

"Add me, add me, add me, add me, add me, add me, add me..."

The demonic sound pierced my ears.

Chi Ran ripped off her headphones in a flash.