7. Pathétique Sonata
I think I'm sick. Can I come see you?
After many days, Mr. Liang finally stepped into his home again, with great enthusiasm.
Ms. Ma cooperated perfectly, smiling broadly as she went up to him and took the coat he had no intention of taking off.
"Oh, has the sun risen in the west?" Mrs. Ma said with a hint of teasing warmth. "Does our big boss Liang still remember which way his front door faces?"
Mr. Liang chuckled, handed his briefcase to Aunt Zhang, and said calmly, "What are you talking about? I just missed you two." He then walked over and put his arm around Mrs. Zhang's shoulder.
It was rare for three people to gather at the dinner table.
The parents chatted back and forth, laughing and talking, from the progress of their collaborative project to recent stock market fluctuations, and then to Ms. Ma's experiences in Paris.
The conversation flowed smoothly, and the atmosphere was as harmonious as that of the most loving couple.
It was as if all those website links, photos, and silence were just a nightmare that Liang Chuling had.
Liang Chuling buried her head in her food, her heart burning with anger, but she suppressed it, only poking a piece of green vegetable with her chopsticks until it was riddled with holes.
I felt like an audience member, watching the two lead actors give their all on stage, but all I wanted to do was leave early.
But how could two adults who only have common topics when talking about children not steer the conversation towards the children?
Liang's father spoke up: "Chuling, how's your teacher Li Chi doing lately? I heard you're going to that competition?"
"Hmm," Liang Chuling hummed through her nose.
The fact that Liang Chuling was taking classes with Li Chi was newsworthy in itself, and it was perfectly normal for Liang's father to know about it.
Li Chi's fame spread far and wide, and Liang's father wanted to take advantage of this.
"That's good. Bringing back an award will add to your resume, giving you more leverage when negotiating revenue sharing with record companies." Mr. Liang smiled broadly, but then changed the subject, "So you're thinking of going to Curtis again? But going at thirteen or fourteen is what makes a child prodigy, creating the biggest sensation. You didn't go then, and now you're going back to this? Isn't that a waste of time?"
Liang Chuling didn't look up, speechless: "I haven't been a child prodigy for many years."
Mr. Liang ignored him and continued his analysis: "If you ask me, going now is a complete detour. You should immediately sign with a record company, start a global tour, and fame and status will be within your grasp. Then, take advantage of this momentum and start creating your own timeless masterpieces. That's the path you should take. How many of those professors at the university have achieved what you have now?"
Liang Chuling was no stranger to these words. In fact, if Li Chi hadn't been so famous, her father would have thought it unnecessary for her to attend classes there, considering it a complete waste of time.
It was exhausting and difficult to communicate with. All Liang Chuling could say was, "I don't want that."
Mr. Liang was truly puzzled: "Then what do you want? What's the difference between going to Curtis now and going at thirteen? Since the destination is the same, why go around in circles? Isn't this just pointless?"
“There is a difference. At thirteen, when I went in, they were taking in a child prodigy. But actually, Curtis doesn’t want child prodigies or students; they want established artists. I don’t want to be treated like a child anymore.”
The subjects of the three sentences are actually different, and their focuses are also different.
Liang Chuling herself couldn't explain what she was saying, nor could she explain the difference, nor could she explain her complete standing as an individual in the world of music.
The only thing she didn't need to explain was: I don't want to be a child anymore.
Liang Chuling was certain that she didn't want to.
If she is certain that she does not need to rely on innate advantages, she can still reach the top level through training.
Even if she didn't have the perfect pitch that almost every piano student has now, she could still achieve the same performance ability by relying on the fixed pitch concept she developed through training, and by using memory and logical reasoning.
"And then there's creation, but I can't create anything at all. It's not something you can achieve just by being famous. It requires time and experience." Liang Chuling was trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.
"What more do you need to hone your skills? Even Li Chi can't find fault with your technique, right? The Central Conservatory of Music invited you to give masterclasses, and you were invited to be a judge in international competitions. Isn't that enough?"
Liang Chuling had no further intentions; language had reached its limit.
I recall someone saying that when language reaches its limit, that's when music begins.
She's not good at debating anyway, so it would be better to let her play a piece...
She simply repeated, "I don't want to be treated like a child anymore."
Ms. Ma had been listening quietly, but now she gently patted her husband's arm and teased, "Alright, alright, our daughter knows more than we do. The two of us, one of us is obsessed with money and the other is only good at vaining, how much do we really know about art? So stop giving us orders. Let her do whatever she wants."
Feeling somewhat embarrassed by the mother and daughter's coordinated attack, Mr. Liang did not persist.
As if to make up for his slip of the tongue earlier, after dinner, Liang's father took out a luxury goods paper bag and pushed it in front of Liang Chuling: "This is a gift from Dad, a scarf. It's getting cold."
Liang Chuling stared at the bag without moving.
Ms. Ma smiled and smoothed things over, saying, "Our little one has grown up and understands his father's feelings."
Mr. Liang urged, "Open it and see if you like it?"
Under her parents' watchful eyes, Liang Chuling reached out and took the paper bag.
The packaging was exquisite. I untied the ribbon and opened the box—
It's not a scarf inside.
It is a set of women's underwear.
The black lace exuded an ambiguous feel.
The smile on Liang's father's face froze, and he was clearly flustered.
This couldn't possibly be a gift mistakenly given to Ms. Ma; the new bag she was supposed to give her is currently lying carelessly on the ground.
The answer to who this lingerie is for is obvious.
Ms. Ma's face paled for a moment.
She immediately reached out, closed the box, and feigned a playful reproach: "Oh dear! How could you secretly buy me this! And in front of the child! Honestly!"
This absurd drama must continue.
But Liang Chuling didn't give her that chance.
She snatched the underwear box from her mother's hand, turned around, and ran out of the living room and out of the house.
The cold winter wind felt like a slap in the face.
She ran to a big tree in the neighborhood, looked at the box in her hand, and wanted to tear it to pieces!
With all her might, Liang Chuling threw it towards a trash can some distance away. The box hit the lid, bounced off, and landed on the ground. The box popped open, and the black underwear fell out.
It fell on the grass, like a sore.
She cherished her hands, so she could only raise her foot to kick the tree next to her. Her toes were jolted and tears welled up instantly.
A foolish floodgate, tears streaming down her face, Liang Chuling felt she was crying because of her own stupidity. She was angry with herself: the hands that play the piano are precious, but are the feet that step on the pedals made of iron? So stupid!
She crouched down and hugged her knees; her feet hurt terribly.
Liang Chuling felt like she had a fever, otherwise why would she feel dizzy, cold all over, and hot on her cheeks?
Does he have a fever? He probably does.
Subconsciously, she longed to be sick, because if she was sick, she could justifiably go to Li Xun.
He said last time, "You can call me next time you're not feeling well."
Liang Chuling hesitated whether or not to make the call.
When I looked up, a little bit of coldness fell.
It's snowing.
Silent snowflakes drifted down, landing on her hair, shoulders, and the underwear in front of her, covering the black with white.
She squatted in the snow, bewildered and helpless.
"baby!"
It was Ms. Ma who chased after them, running out of breath.
Seeing her daughter squatting on the ground, with her underwear scattered around, she went over, picked up the underwear and the box, and threw them back into the trash can. Then she quickly walked over.
"You ran out without even wearing a coat!" Ms. Ma squatted down and hugged her tightly, rubbing her arms and back with her hands. "Come home with Mom, sleep with Mom tonight, don't be afraid, don't be afraid."
The mother's embrace was warm, and Liang Chuling's pent-up grievances were about to burst forth as she leaned into it.
The screen of the phone Ms. Ma was holding lit up.
The note is a sun emoji, and the message reads: "Goodnight, sweetheart."
Ms. Ma also saw the message. She calmly locked the screen with her thumb, then hugged Liang Chuling even tighter: "Come on, let's go back with Mom."
Liang Chuling suddenly broke free from her embrace and stumbled.
The lights shone on Madam Ma's head, her breath turning into mist, snowflakes falling—she looked perfectly like the leading lady in a play. Liang Chuling, content to be second, looked at the leading lady opposite her, recalling what Li Xun had once told her: "Genes aren't that important." She hadn't fully accepted it then, but now she believed it wholeheartedly.
She was so different from her mother and her father.
Science has proven that they are a family related by blood, but blood ties did not shape Liang Chuling; it was the environment that shaped her.
Differences arise from blood ties and environment.
Liang Chuling felt this was a very unfair disagreement, just as it was unfair that Li Xun failed to inherit Li Chi's talent. He could accept differences, but she only felt it was unfair.
During junior high, her mother took her to a hot spring. The mother complained that her hair was too frizzy and made Liang Chuling apply conditioner to it, even though the label said to leave it on for only three minutes. Before three minutes were up, her mother calmly washed it off, but Liang Chuling made her leave it on for five minutes.
Liang Chuling's world is full of variables, and everything is beyond her prediction and control.
Therefore, she strives for excellence in the areas she can control, building a sense of certainty by exceeding expectations.
The extra two minutes, the extra hours of practice, the pre-class preparation, and the post-get out of class review are all safety margins she adds for herself, used to counter any unexpected events or loss of control that may occur in the outside world.
But life is full of unexpected events.
The female lead remained silent, and she had the right to remain silent; this was equally unfair.
Liang Chuling could only look at her mother, and suddenly she also acted extremely calm: "Mom, can I sleep at my classmate's house tonight?"
Ms. Ma looked at her daughter and remained silent for a moment.
Snowflakes fell between them.
"Okay," Ms. Ma finally replied with only one word.
She didn't ask which classmate it was, but instead asked, "Will you practice the piano well tomorrow?"
"Yes, I will," Liang Chuling replied.
“Okay,” Ms. Ma said again.
Despite the pain in her toes, Liang Chuling turned around and walked steadily and firmly, step by step.
Look, she's a very good actress too.
They then proceeded to perform outside the gate of the residential complex.
She didn't turn around.
The snow fell heavily, covering the ground with a thin layer.
She walked to the pavilion outside the residential area and found a corner to sit down.
Snowflakes danced outside the pavilion, and the world was so quiet that only the sound of falling snow could be heard.
The screen is a bit blurry.
The call was connected very quickly.
"Hello?"
Upon hearing Li Xun's voice, Liang Chuling felt a lump in her throat, and her forced composure crumbled.
She sniffed, trying to make her voice sound normal: "Li Xun."
She watched the snowflakes swirling outside the pavilion, each one pure white, yet upon closer inspection, revealing a weary beauty. A beauty that was both poignant and captivating, a beauty that concealed a sharp edge. Like warriors facing death.
Suddenly, the "Pathétique Sonata" came to mind.
When I first played this piece, I spent a month studying how to use the pedals. Such a dramatic melody can be forcefully pulled into people's lives by people like them.
How dramatic these snowflakes are! The whole world serves as a backdrop, while the other world in the sky remains completely silent.
The giant's spirit transformed into snowflakes, drifting down upon her.
It felt like spring had arrived.
Liang Chuling whispered to Chun Tian, "I think I'm sick. Can I come to see you?"
[Author's Note]
This is not meant to be preachy, nor does it mean that Chuling's idea of "not wanting to go to a prestigious school at a young age and not wanting to be treated like a child" is right or wrong. Friends, what matters is always yourselves. The decisions you make are the best decisions, and other people's decisions are not worth considering.
Sometimes I do this to avoid crossing the line and having a relationship too early, but that doesn't mean I disagree with the views I've written down.
I hope you enjoy reading, and I'll write to my heart's content!
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