2. "The Butterfly"
I was also born to my parents.
Liang Chuling officially became Li Chi's student, and she went to that building three times a week without fail, on Wednesdays, Fridays, and any day of the weekend, depending on Li Chi's arrangements.
Two new pieces must be completed each week, including one classical sonata and one Chinese work.
Li Chi only cares about the final result, not how much he lost in the process, nor does he care about taking leave.
When Liang Chuling suggested that she wouldn't be a judge at competitions for the next two years to focus on playing the piano, Li Chi felt it was unnecessary. He thought it was still worthwhile to attend major competitions. He also thought it would be interesting to hear different people express themselves. Liang Chuling was still young, and it would always be beneficial for her to learn, observe, listen, and think more.
However, when record companies repeatedly approached them with contracts, wanting to sign Liang Chuling for a world tour, Li Chi and Liang Chuling jointly refused. Li Chi felt that touring too early would diminish her talent, while Liang Chuling simply thought it would be too much trouble.
There are also opportunities for small ensemble performances in the music room, and those who come are all Li Chi's former classmates or teachers from the United States. Li Chi is generous with all the resources she can provide. She believes this is the meaning of a teacher, and also the true meaning of the word "cultivation".
However, the friends of geniuses are often not ordinary people. Their personalities are often quite eccentric.
During a small ensemble lesson arranged by Li Chi, several of Li Chi's former students attended.
One of the more arrogant senior students, while everyone was taking turns trying out their parts, pointed fingers at Li Xun's section and said, "You handled this passage too conservatively; it doesn't sound like your mother at all. Look here, it should be more passionate, like mine."
He reached for the music stand in front of Li Xun, intending to mark it directly.
Liang Chuling was drinking water nearby. Upon seeing this, she immediately put down her bottle and used her body to separate the senior brother from the music stand, like a mother hen protecting her chicks.
It wasn't that she wanted to protect Li Xun; the two weren't that close.
I just think this senior student has absolutely no sense of boundaries! Shouldn't we wait for the teacher's opinion on how the situation is handled? Who does he think he is?! How come Teacher Li Chi hasn't even spoken yet, and he's already acting as the judge? And why isn't Li Xun moving at all? Is he just waiting for someone else to draw his score?!
Liang Chuling was furious at his lack of ambition!
“Teacher Li Chi said that all markings on the score must be done in pencil, and she has to approve them. Your red pen marks are very unprofessional, and we won’t be able to erase them later.” She shoved her pencil into Li Xun’s hand, “Use mine.”
The senior student's hand froze in mid-air, looking somewhat embarrassed.
Liang Chuling had already turned around and was studying her sheet music carefully, humming the conservative section that Li Xun had just played.
Li Chi's teaching style, like herself, is direct, efficient, and uncompromising. She treats her students and her son similarly, without much interference, so she was completely unaffected by this incident.
She was only serious about practicing the piano. If you didn't handle a single note well, she would make you play it twenty times until you could play it perfectly again.
As a result, when Liang Chuling practiced the piano at home every day, Li Chi was always on her mind.
She felt that this face was now the most familiar face she knew in the whole world...
Although Liang Chuling was used to being called a genius, she dared not slack off in front of Li Chi and always gave it her all in class.
As Li Chi had said, Li Xun only appeared occasionally, three or four times out of ten classes. When he did come, he didn't say much, just practiced the piano, read books, and occasionally did his homework. Li Xun attended an international high school, making it convenient for him to travel with Li Chi. His studies weren't heavy, and Li Chi was truly determined to give him the freedom to grow.
"Li Xun has such a good personality," Liang Chuling remarked for the hundredth time.
She would spontaneously wipe the piano and clean the room, and prepare cushions and hand cream for Li Chi.
On one occasion, Liang Chuling even saw Li Xun putting sanitary napkins into the drawer.
He cared for not only his own mother, but also Liang Chuling.
I've noticed that Liang Chuling doesn't drink coffee, so I'll bring her yogurt next time.
When Li Xun noticed Liang Chuling frantically searching for nail clippers, exclaiming how her nails had grown so fast—she had just trimmed them yesterday!—he bought nail clippers and placed them in the music room, along with a pack of disinfectant wipes.
After chatting a few times, Liang Chuling learned that Li Xun was only five months older than her.
Because of his personality, he looks more mature than his actual age, while Liang Chuling appears more carefree. In comparison, Li Xun seems to be much older than her.
With more contact, Liang Chuling gained a clearer understanding of Li Xun's piano skills. Just as she had initially felt, he was really good, but that was about it.
Liang Chuling didn't have any opinion about Li Xun because of this. She thought Li Xun's aesthetic sense was actually quite good, and he was especially suitable to be a teacher... He would often give her a few unexpected pointers that would enlighten her, and his occasional little designs during his playing were also very brilliant.
With his taste and intelligence, he must be incredibly capable! He must be even more capable! He must be absolutely amazing!
Liang Chuling then began to hate his father on his behalf.
Once, Li Chi went to the living room to answer a phone call. Halfway there, he remembered something and knocked on the stainless steel part of the door frame.
“Liang Chuling, you and Li Xun try out a new piece together. You play the first part.” Then she looked at her son, “Li Xun, you play the second part. Let’s go together.”
Liang Chuling and Li Xun exchanged a glance.
An ensemble performance...
Liang Chuling was a little worried that Li Xun might hold her back.
But she didn't dare say it.
Li Xun didn't say anything, but simply took the other score from Li Chi and nodded: "Okay."
At first, it was a bit awkward. Liang Chuling was used to playing solo and always unconsciously wanted to take the lead in the rhythm, but Li Xun was as steady as an anchor. Every time she went a little ahead, he would use low chords to "pull" her back.
The modulation passage on the third page features an ambiguous harmony, like the boundary between light and shadow at dusk.
Liang Chuling favored a bright approach, wanting the melody to break through the haze. Li Xun's second voice then emerged, adding a very light passing tone before the modulated chord, like fingers parting the curtains to let the light in more gently.
Liang Chuling's ears caught this detail. Her eyes didn't leave the score, but she applauded Li Xun in her heart and immediately adjusted her touch, letting the melody line slide into the new tonality through the channel he had opened. The whole process was incredibly smooth, like two streams of water naturally merging at a corner.
During the ensuing ensemble performance, Liang Chuling kept hearing his aesthetic sense, but also other things.
In the eighteenth section, marked 'dolce', Liang Chuling played her part as if moonlight were shining through a curtain, while Li Xun's harmonic layer should have been even more subtle.
She heard the sound he was trying to produce, which was probably a layer of mist, something that was almost non-existent.
She also heard the actual sound he played, unable to control the extremely soft playing, unable to let the sound float between the moment it was about to emerge.
Liang Chuling understood Li Xun's intention, and she also heard the gap between his intention and his ability, and she heard Li Xun's frankness about it. He did not hide anything, but still expressed himself and still played the best version he could play.
That honesty bordered on courage.
By the twenty-fourth measure, Liang Chuling's fingers flew across the strings, like a flock of birds suddenly taking flight. She heard Li Xun add a flowing arpeggio below as support, a truly wonderful addition.
Those arpeggios were like the wind lifting a bird's wings, making her ascent lighter and freer.
The arpeggio itself is also carefully crafted, gradually brightening from bottom to top, like the gradual change in color of the sky at sunrise.
Liang Chuling understood immediately and was able to respond instantly. She extended the note at the highest point of the scale, making it hover like a bird spreading its wings at the highest point.
She heard Li Xun taking deep breaths.
The last chord should have fallen at the same time, but Liang Chuling deliberately slowed it down by a second. She let Li Xun's chord fall first, and then her own note slowly followed, like a belated embrace.
Liang Chuling's fingers were still on the piano keys, feeling the vibrations slowly subside.
She looked at Li Xun and said, "Play it for me once, just the last long note of the eighteenth measure, play it the way you want it to be."
Li Xun was not surprised by this request and immediately began to play.
It's a single note, but it really changes: it starts full, then becomes thinner and transparent, and finally seems to disappear into the air.
Liang Chuling held her breath: "That's it!"
Li Xun withdrew his hand: "Only this one note can do it, because you only need to control one note. If it's a complex set of voices..."
He didn't finish speaking, but Liang Chuling understood.
Liang Chuling thought for a long time about what to say, her expression changing constantly. Li Xun found it amusing, but still coaxed her, "After you've finished playing, go play somewhere else. I'll wipe this place down."
Only Liang Chuling and Li Xun remained in the music room. Liang Chuling was tidying up the sheet music, while Li Xun was wiping the piano keys and bench. A quiet atmosphere, somewhere between familiar and unfamiliar, filled the air.
Liang Chuling is someone who can't keep her mouth shut, especially when she has questions in her mind.
She turned to look at Li Xun, and the question that had been lingering in her mind for a long time finally came out: "Li Xun, why do you learn to play the piano?"
Li Xun was surprised by her sudden question. He shrugged and said in a casual tone, "I've been with my mom for years. After listening to her play so much, I wanted to try it myself. My mom taught me casually, and I just played casually. I found that I could play it pretty well, so I just kept playing it."
You can't tell how much he loves the piano, nor can you hear much resistance to it.
This reason sounded reasonable and convinced Liang Chuling.
Growing up surrounded by music, you pick things up faster than others, and if you feel it's okay, you continue. That's perfectly normal.
She even felt a little sympathy, thinking that Li Xun's abilities were alright and might be praised to the skies in an ordinary family, but compared to Li Chi's god-like level, he probably felt a lot of pressure.
Liang Chuling comforted him instead, her tone straightforward: "Actually, I feel you didn't practice to death, otherwise you should be able to play even better than you are now."
Liang Chuling was speaking from the heart, and there was also a truth she didn't say aloud: she felt that Li Xun's skill level was definitely being held back by his father, and if he practiced like crazy, he might be able to rise to the top.
Li Xun glanced at Liang Chuling; there was indeed no sarcasm or disdain on her face.
So Li Xun neither confirmed nor denied it, but just smiled and didn't reply.
He wanted to say that he had actually trained like crazy for a year, holding back his energy to see if he was any good.
Around the age of eleven or twelve, a strange stubbornness emerged during puberty.
Watching my mother teach students abroad, I saw those blond-haired, blue-eyed, or black-skinned kids making rapid progress in their skills.
He wanted to prove to Li Chi that his son was also quite good and that his success wasn't solely due to Li Chi's casual teaching.
Li Chi noticed this as expected and took the time to guide him a few times, pointing out his technical problems and misunderstandings of music. Her attitude was no different from how she treated any other student.
I was not moved by his efforts, nor did I see any satisfaction in his progress.
Li Chi didn't actually care that much about playing the piano.
Having achieved fame at a young age and reached the top several times, she no longer cares about anything.
Besides, she's not a man, so she has absolutely no interest in the concept of cultivating her own successor or leaving behind her own offspring.
She wanted her son to be independent and whole, unconstrained, and to have a wonderful life.
Of course, this was not the main reason why Li Xunping accepted the offer.
The main reason is that Li Xun himself knows that even with his relentless practice, his progress is far from the transformative change he expected. He hasn't broken through that invisible ceiling. His fingers still can't keep up with the perfect sound he hears.
But he has a mother like Li Chi.
It is because of his mother that Li Xun has a keen sense of music.
Having grown up immersed in the best musical environment, my ears have become discerning, able to distinguish what is good, what is better, and what is top-notch.
It was precisely because of this keen insight that he realized earlier than anyone else that he was not that kind of genius.
She's not a genius like Liang Chuling.
Even a notoriously difficult and intense etude becomes effortless and natural in Liang Chuling's hands, like a fish in water or a bird soaring into the sky, without any harshness. It might even give a layman the illusion that he could do it too.
It's a disguise of genius.
This effect is so effortless.
This really tests one's skill level.
This leaves even experts feeling powerless.
Li Xun's playing wasn't bad. If he played it, even those hailed as piano prodigies would likely offer a succinct compliment. But Li Xun couldn't fool himself; he was exhausted from playing. Not physically, but mentally.
His aesthetic sense always precedes his technical skills.
Furthermore, he pessimistically predicted that he would always be ahead.
The gap between having high aspirations and low abilities can be an embarrassing torment for sensitive people.
Ever since Liang Chuling applauded him after his first performance, he would applaud her every time she finished playing, as long as he was there.
This is a response.
At that moment, Liang Chuling asked him: Why do you want to learn the piano?
As someone who excels at responding, he did answer, but he didn't ask Liang Chuling: "And what about you? Why did you learn to play the piano?"
Geniuses, like heroines or heroines in stories, should be summoned by destiny.
So Li Xun didn't even bother to ask Liang Chuling how she embarked on her piano journey.
He felt that asking the question made him feel like an NPC in a game, deliberately placed there by the programmers to introduce the protagonist's backstory—it was too ridiculous and contrived.
He didn't ask.
However, Liang Chuling herself had to speak up.
She seems to have a desire to share, or perhaps she doesn't feel there's anything wrong with talking about it.
She said to Li Xun very naturally, "All of my mother's ex-boyfriends were pianists, except for my father. So I've always been very curious about what kind of magic pianists have."
Liang Chuling extended her index finger, emphasizing all two words.
Li Xun raised an eyebrow, finding the opening remarks quite impactful.
Liang Chuling continued, "When I was in first grade, I enrolled in the school's piano interest class on my own. After learning, I found it was really interesting. The teacher praised me for being extremely talented. I was so scared, you know?"
"What are you scared of?" Li Xun asked cooperatively.
Liang Chuling's eyes widened, her expression exaggerated: "I thought I wasn't my dad's biological daughter! My dad knows absolutely nothing about music! How could a tone-deaf dad like me give birth to a genius daughter like me?!"
Li Xun couldn't help but laugh out loud at her words and expressions, his composure from before vanishing completely.
Looking into Liang Chuling's eyes, a voice whispered in his heart: Genes don't really matter, do they? My mother is a pianist, and my father is supposedly involved in music too, but so what? Combined, this is all that's left for me.
Perhaps possessed by something, Li Xun thought he was saying it in his mind, but actually it came out of his mouth as well.
Liang Chuling couldn't help but say, "It's all your father's fault."
It wasn't explained why, but Li Xun understood immediately.
As soon as Liang Chuling finished speaking, she realized that what she said was a bit thoughtless and wanted to laugh it off, but Li Xun was unusually serious: "No, don't say that about him. Neither he nor my mother should be responsible for my ideals."
Liang Chuling thought Li Xun would just smile helplessly or change the subject as he usually does, but she didn't expect to hear him state his position.
She didn't feel accused; she could distinguish between offense and sincerity.
Li Xun's gaze passed over her and returned to their meeting: "Playing the piano is my own choice. How well I can play is my talent, my efforts, and my destiny. It's unfair and meaningless to attribute my ability to play better or not to my parents. They have their own lives. Knowledge cannot be passed down through blood ties, which is the fairest thing in the world. Similarly, my life is my own."
Li Chi was the son she gave birth to, and she raised and educated him on her own.
She seemed to want to give him the greatest freedom, never forcing him to practice the piano or pursue a career in music, and showing a permissive attitude towards all his states.
Li Xun was indeed free. A freedom tinged with alienation and sorrow, born from not being expected to achieve great things.
His life is his own, so he shouldn't blame others for it.
Freedom is a two-way street.
A gentle breeze blew by, and the leaves outside the window rustled.
Looking at Li Xun in front of her, Liang Chuling suddenly felt that he seemed clearer.
Drawn by his sincerity, I couldn't help but want to be honest with him in return.
She nodded: "I understand, I was just assuming it."
Looking at her somewhat docile appearance, Li Xun couldn't help but want to coax her: "No, it's because you're very righteous. Stop talking about me, you haven't finished yet. Aren't you?"
"What is it?" Liang Chuling didn't react for a moment.
Of course, the question is, "Are you your father's biological child?"
Liang Chuling turned around for a moment before realizing what was happening, and punched Li Xun on the shoulder: "Think about it! I'm definitely right! If I'm not, then are you?!"
Caught off guard, Li Xun rubbed his shoulder in pain, but also felt a little amused.
Didn't you bring this up yourself?
Bringing it up will only make you angry again.
What an unreasonable little girl.
But he didn't find it annoying. There was no anger on her face either; on the contrary, he thought her pouty appearance was more vivid than her feigned considerate demeanor just now.
After showing her fist, Liang Chuling probably felt that the threat of violence had been in place, and immediately resumed her generous and sharing attitude, as if she hadn't been the one who had hit her: "When I was in the third grade, I couldn't stand the psychological pressure anymore, so I went to the hospital for a paternity test."
This sounds a bit far-fetched, but it makes sense when applied to Liang Chuling. However…
"How did you do that?" Li Xun couldn't help but ask. "Hospitals wouldn't just do this to a child like that, would they?"
"Of course not. I need to be accompanied by an adult and have identification. I forced my mom to take me. At first, my mom absolutely refused, thinking I was crazy."
"And then?"
“I went on a hunger strike for three days. But I didn’t completely stop… I secretly ate and drank. The main thing was that I told my mom that if she didn’t take me, I would never play the piano again.”
Li Xun remained silent, not daring to laugh for fear of being beaten.
Liang Chuling shrugged: "Later, my mom had no choice but to go to the hospital with my dad and me. It turned out that I was born to my parents."
As she said this, she picked up her glass, took another sip of the cold chocolate, frowned, and looked out the window.
A hint of melancholy appeared on his face, though it was unclear what he was melancholy about.
She had a ring of chocolate stains on her lips, but she didn't notice it herself.
Li Xun saw it, but didn't say anything. He took a tissue from the tissue box next to him, folded it, and placed it where she could easily reach it.
Liang Chuling didn't notice this little action at all, so she didn't wipe it.
Looking at her expressive face and the chocolate stain around her neck, Li Xun found it amusing and, almost without thinking, blurted out, "I was born of my parents too."
As soon as he finished speaking, both of them were stunned.
A quote from God.
Liang Chuling couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Li Xun looked at her smiling and couldn't help but smile along with her.
After laughing, Li Xun simply picked up the paper and handed it to her. Liang Chuling took it and wiped her mouth.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on the two boys who were laughing so hard they were practically falling over.
Autumn descends upon the mountains and clouds, bringing a sense of tranquility and beauty, making every scene worthy of a painting.
This was the autumn when they first met.
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