15. Gertrude Waltz
◎Confusion◎
In May, Beijing finally showed some signs of spring, with a vibrant green bursting forth across the world. It was almost arrogant.
The plant extracts are refreshing and remove any fishy smell.
The fluffy seeds from the poplar trees along the roadside were falling like snow.
Every time Liang Chuling came out of the music room, she had to cover her nose and run away. People who didn't know the situation would think that Liu Xu was chasing after her and hitting her.
Liang Chuling was born on May 20th, a day imbued with a great deal of meaning.
Sometimes I have the illusion that I was born on this day because I was born with a little more talent for love than others... but it seems that I am not.
Since it's her birthday month, she'll probably be luckier, right? She thought aimlessly.
Online classes.
After Liang Chuling finished playing a mazurka, Li Chi, who was on the other side of the screen, had just finished drinking water and praised her generously: "The rhythm has become much more lively, quite interesting. The ornament in the left hand is handled better than before."
Just as Liang Chuling felt a surge of smugness, Li Chi followed up with, "It's that turn in the third section, the ending was a bit too abrupt, like you were being chased. What were you in such a hurry for?"
Liang Chuling: ...
She was too embarrassed to say it, but when she caught a glimpse of Li Xun in the upper right corner of the video, she inexplicably felt an urge to finish playing that section as soon as possible.
At that moment, Li Xun placed the fruit plate next to Li Chi, but didn't leave. He leaned against the desk, picked up an apple, and began peeling it. The apple peel hung down in a continuous stream.
Liang Chuling's gaze couldn't help but drift in that direction again.
"What are you looking at? Where are you looking?" Li Chi's voice was icy. "He looks better peeling an apple than I do?"
Liang Chuling sat up straight instantly, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Li Xun lowered his head, and his shoulders twitched suspiciously.
When class ended, Li Chi's doorbell rang, and she got up to leave.
The video was still playing; all that remained on the screen was Li Xun and the perfectly peeled apple in his hand.
"I peeled this for you." He waved the apple at the camera, "It's a pity I can't hand it over."
Liang Chuling snorted, "Who cares? I don't like apples at all!"
“I like it.” Li Xun answered naturally, taking a bite. “It’s very sweet.”
Liang Chuling suddenly felt a little thirsty. In fact, she had been eating more fruits and vegetables than before, but she didn't tell Li Xun, as it would seem like she was trying to take credit for it.
But we can't ignore the fact that it would be a waste of labor.
So we'll have to wait until we meet to talk about it.
But when will we be able to meet?
"How's the weather where you are?" she asked, trying to make conversation.
"It's been pouring rain for days, with thunder and lightning," Li Xun said, his voice filled with genuine helplessness.
"Serves you right."
After he finished cursing, he found that Li Xun on the other side of the screen was laughing.
"What are you laughing at!"
"It's nothing, oh dear, I forgot to praise our little genius, you played really well today."
After praising her, Li Xun pointed the camera out the window so she could hear the birds chirping.
Then the camera pans down to a small flowerpot on the windowsill, with some tender shoots inside.
"Liang Chuling." His voice finally came through the video. "I planted a pot for you... I won't tell you yet, I'll tell you when it grows bigger."
After logging off, Liang Chuling stared blankly at the black screen for a while, then picked up the water glass next to the music stand and started drinking. Halfway through, she began to drink slowly, as if trying to salvage the situation.
After finishing the glass of water, she was still lost in thought.
Li Xunren is gone, but her shadow remains, and it is becoming intertwined with her original life.
It was Li Xun who told her this word.
——
Ever since Li Xun played the audio diary for Liang Chuling, Liang Chuling has been forcing him to pursue a career in composition, refusing to let his talent go to waste. Actually, Li Xun didn't really care about talent; being able to play the piano with her seemed more important to him.
But the little genius's face was as serious as if he were running for president, and what he said was: "Just listen to me! I'll be a dog if I lie to you!"
Li Xun amused him so much that he couldn't say a word.
After arriving in the United States, Li Xun happened to come across a composition competition at his school. He revised one of his previous chamber music compositions and submitted it, titled "Time Difference".
It was quickly selected for the school's exhibition.
The performance required the formation of a quintet, so Li Xun posted a recruitment notice at the school, and seven or eight people came to audition the next day.
Elena was the last to arrive, carrying her violin case and walking with a brisk pace.
He came in and immediately asked, "Li Xun, could you tell me the topic first?"
Li Xun played the first eight bars of the piano part.
After listening, Elena thought for a moment, picked up her violin, and played a variation, bringing out the resilience in the restrained notes written by Li Xun.
“You added a triplet,” Li Xun said.
Elena tilted her head to look at him: "Hmm, the breathing here feels too regular, like holding your breath. Is this the kind of smell you want? Or am I going too far?"
Li Xun played the eight bars again, this time imitating her triplets. "Like this?"
"Yes, but be gentler, like a sigh."
They revised it for three hours. When it was over, Elena said, "Your piece is quite interesting. It sounds like you're missing someone. Missing Liang Chuling?"
Li Xun didn't reply, but finished organizing the sheet music: "Rehearsals start next Monday, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 4 PM. Can you come?"
Elena neatly put her instrument away: "Yes, my new boyfriend is a percussion major, and he said he can help if you need to add percussion layers."
"No need for now, thank you."
Rehearsals are going well, and after a few weeks, "Time Difference" is taking shape.
Three days before the performance, the school's publicity department came to film rehearsal footage for social media promotion.
The photographer filmed several performance clips and captured some interactive moments, including Elena pointing to the sheet music and discussing with Li Xun, Li Xun demonstrating musical phrases on the piano, everyone drinking coffee and chatting during breaks, and Elena and Li Xun whispering to each other.
These clips were edited into a one-minute video with lively subtitles and music, and posted on the school's official account.
Liang Chuling saw the video on the afternoon of the day of the performance in Beijing. Several classical music accounts she followed reposted the video, which was only one minute long, and Liang Chuling watched it three times.
The first time, she was looking at the music. The second time, she was looking at Li Xun. The third time, she was looking at Elena.
Elena possesses a vibrant beauty; she radiates light when playing the violin, her eyes are focused during discussions, and her smile is wide and expressive. She and Li Xun look very well-matched standing together.
Liang Chuling turned off the video and continued practicing the piano, but she couldn't concentrate.
She played a wrong note, stopped and started again, then played the wrong note again.
She took a deep breath and told herself: This is ridiculous!
It's normal for Li Xun to have collaborators at school.
She also has classmates, bandmates, and people to rehearse with in Beijing.
Furthermore, she has no right to feel uncomfortable.
But that sour feeling persisted, like a small slice of lemon stuck in my eye.
That evening, Li Xun sent a message: "My performance is over, it went fairly smoothly."
Normally, Liang Chuling would reply immediately, asking for details and requesting a recording, but this time she took a long time to type: "Congratulations."
"How was your practice today?" Li Xun asked.
"I'm okay. I'm tired, I'm going to sleep now."
"It's only nine o'clock?"
"Hmm, sleepy."
The conversation ended there. Liang Chuling had indeed gone to bed early, but couldn't fall asleep. She recalled the video of Elena patting Li Xun's shoulder and the two of them talking together. They seemed so familiar with each other; they must often interact like that. Indeed, Elena was also Li Chi's student, and before she appeared, Elena and Li Xun were already fellow students, friends, and collaborators.
The next day, she didn't message Li Xun first. He sent her a recording of a live performance, and after listening to it, she replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
On the third day, he asked her what she was doing, and she said she was working on a scherzo, which was very difficult, and she didn't have time to chat.
Liang Chuling was deliberately keeping her distance. If dependence brought this uncomfortable feeling, then it was better to depend on her less.
Li Xun noticed that after Li Chi finished commenting on Liang Chuling's practice in this week's video lesson, he left the camera to answer a phone call, leaving only Li Xun and Liang Chuling on the screen.
"What's wrong with you lately?" Li Xun asked directly.
Liang Chuling stared at the small light next to the camera, not looking at him: "Nothing much, just a lot of pressure from the performance."
“Last time you said you were under a lot of pressure from the performance and couldn’t eat. This time you can eat, but you’re talking less.”
"I've always been a man of few words."
"Liang Chuling, you saw that behind-the-scenes video of the performance, right?"
Liang Chuling's heart tightened, but she said aloud, "I didn't see it."
Li Xun almost laughed, looking at Liang Chuling's serious yet reluctant expression: "If you hadn't seen it, you would have asked, 'What video is it?' Elena forwarded it to me and said you might see it, so I should take the initiative to explain it to you."
If Liang Chuling had been more rational at this moment, she would have asked Li Xun, "Why did Elena tell you I might see it? Why did she ask you to explain to me? Did Elena misunderstand our relationship?"
But Liang Chuling was only embarrassed and annoyed at being exposed. She said stiffly, "Yes, I saw it. So what!"
Li Xun nodded: "Elena is just my collaborator. Her boyfriend is a percussionist, also in our group, and often picks her up after class. By the way, just in case you're interested—I've never taken lessons with any of my mom's students, except for you. Until last year, I always practiced on my own."
Liang Chuling was surprised that Li Xun would explain.
"You don't need to explain to me," she said stubbornly, but her voice had already softened a bit.
Li Xun smiled, and even through the screen, Liang Chuling could see a hint of helplessness mixed with tenderness in his eyes: "But I want to explain."
"Liang Chuling," Li Xun called her again, this time in a softer voice, "Do you remember you saying before that we were becoming more and more alike?"
She remembers.
That was a long time ago, in Li Chi's music room. She complained that ever since she met Li Xun, her habits had been influenced by him. She had to do wrist exercises before practicing the piano, drink water in small sips, and even he had been watching over her picky eating habits to correct them.
Li Xun explained to her: "There is a concept in property law called 'merger.' It means that the property of different people is mixed together to form a new thing that is difficult to divide. If you want to divide it, you can only get the part that does not completely belong to you according to the value ratio."
"For example, if your rice and my rice are poured into the same jar, then it becomes our rice. If we insist on dividing it, we can only divide it proportionally, and what is divided will no longer be the rice that originally belonged entirely to us."
Having spent so much time together, we've absorbed each other's scent, color, and even shape. Now, a complete separation is impossible.
His habits, his ways, and his original self merged together to form the new Liang Chuling. If one were to forcibly separate them, one would probably only find a mess and two individuals who are no longer complete.
She was no longer the same person she once was; his presence was everywhere in her life, like salt dissolved in water—invisible yet palpable.
Li Xun was the same.
“I remember.” Liang Chuling looked at him on the screen.
"My rice jar can't hold any more of other people's rice."
As darkness fell outside the window, lights began to illuminate the buildings across the street.
She messaged Li Xun: "Could you record a complete piece for me next time? I want to hear the whole song."
Li Xun replied almost instantly: "Okay. I'll record it for you during rehearsal next Wednesday."
“And another one,” Li Xun sent, “Elena said she really likes your folk music samples and asked if they could be used in her recordings. I said I’d have to ask you.”
Liang Chuling smiled and said, "Sure. Next time she comes to Beijing, I can take her to a real folk music performance."
"She'll be ecstatic; you're her idol."
--
Li Xun had a habit of recording voice memos, which Liang Chuling knew.
When he first arrived in New York, he sent her a few of them.
[Birdsong in Central Park] [The rumble of the subway crossing the bridge] [The radiator in the school's music room making noise in the middle of the night].
Liang Chuling liked it very much and would sometimes ask, "Any sounds today? Send them over so we can hear them."
This became a little game between them; Li Xun was the one who collected sounds from around the world, and Liang Chuling was the only listener.
One early morning in May, a cold rain began to fall where Li Xun was.
He finished his homework at one o'clock, but lying in bed, he couldn't fall asleep.
The rain pattered outside the window, and occasionally a police siren would blare through the air.
He opened the recording software.
At first, he was just recording the sound of rain, but as he recorded, he remembered a scene he had seen in Central Park during the day: a couple taking wedding photos. The bride was wearing a white dress, and the groom was holding an umbrella. The photographer shouted, "Look here!" They turned their heads, their eyes met, and their smiles widened.
Looking at them, Li Xun was reminded of Liang Chuling.
If he ever writes a wedding march, he must have her play the piano part. Wedding music doesn't need to be too complex, but it must be sincere and carry the weight of a promise.
She'd probably think the idea was cheesy, right? After all, she always says wedding music is all formulaic. But if he wrote it, maybe she'd be willing to play it? Or at least she'd tease him a bit, and then say, "Let me see the sheet music."
These fragmented thoughts swirled in the sleepless night, and Li Xun unconsciously spoke them out into the microphone.
He paused, the sound of rain filling the silence: "If she still doesn't want to play, that's okay, I can play for her."
The next morning at seven o'clock, he was woken up by his alarm clock and got up feeling dizzy and disoriented.
I had a music theory exam in the morning, so I quickly washed up, grabbed my bag, and headed out.
Sitting in the car, he saw Liang Chuling asking him if he had any new recordings recently. Without thinking too much, he sent her all the ones from the last few days.
When Li Xun arrived at school, he remembered what the recording from last night ended like. He wanted to retract it, but more than two minutes had passed. He wanted to send a message to explain, but he deleted it halfway through typing—explain what?
Those were his true thoughts, his innermost feelings that slipped out unintentionally during a sleepless night.
Li Xun waited for her reply all day. He spaced out several times during the music theory exam, and Elena teased him during rehearsal, "Did Liang Chuling dump you?"
At 11 PM Beijing time, Liang Chuling finally sent a message. It was very brief: "I'm so tired from practicing piano today, I'm going to sleep! Goodnight!"
There was no mention of a recording.
Li Xun tentatively replied, "Okay, good night. By the way, I think I sent the wrong file, don't worry about it."
A few minutes later, Liang Chuling replied, "I didn't notice! I'm going to sleep now!"
She lied.
If she genuinely didn't notice, she would ask, "What document?"; if she didn't receive it, she would say, "I didn't see it." But saying "I didn't notice" is a form of avoidance.
She heard it.
And she chose not to respond.
Li Xun felt a mix of emotions, a little disappointed but also relieved. Perhaps this was for the best. Some things were too early to say. Some thoughts were better left unsaid, hidden in the sound of rain.
On the other end of the phone, Liang Chuling was not asleep at all.
She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, but the recording kept playing in her mind.
Perhaps that mixing of things wasn't just a simple matter of habitual contamination. Perhaps the rice had been soaking in the same vat for too long, sprouting and growing a shared root system.
[Author's Note]
Currently writing "What He Thought She Was," a story about a woman's unrequited love (not in a subservient way, we don't play the subservient card!).
The female con artist currently writing "Sunlight" (please don't scold me, she only scams emotions, not money!).
I'm currently revising "Falling Flowers and Flowing Water" to suit a man's stomach (I mean his personality is good for his stomach, not his physical health!).
Welcome to bookmark this column!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
