Chapter 92: Jiang Qian’s Despair |
Sitting in front of the piano, Lin Zhengran did a quick sound check and immediately noticed how naturally his hands adapted to this piano, as if it were an old friend.
Jiang Qian stood quietly nearby, watching his every move.
From his playing technique, it was clear he had studied for quite some time—though within that fluency, there was also a strange touch of unfamiliarity.
“You haven’t played in a while?” she asked.
Lin Zhengran gave a quiet “mm”: “It’s been a long time. Oh right, can I borrow the sheet music you were using just now? It sounded really nice.”
Jiang Qian looked at him with surprise, then nodded and handed over her sheet music.
She was going to say it was a difficult piece, but she hesitated, worried it might sound condescending, so she kept quiet.
Lin Zhengran thanked her, flipped through it briefly, then smiled and placed it on the piano after memorizing it. His fingers began to play gently.
From the very first moment the melody rang out, Jiang Qian’s eyes widened slightly, her mouth agape in speechless shock.
Even her private piano tutor had praised her talent, saying she was exceptionally gifted.
Yet even with that praise, she would still make mistakes playing this technically demanding piece.
But not only did Lin Zhengran make zero mistakes, the way he handled the same key passages she thought she had played well—his rendition was smoother, more immersive.
The beautiful melody echoed through the practice room for a long time, and the music reminded Jiang Qian of her past two failures.
She recalled her own arrogance, thinking he didn’t know how to play the piano.
Her delicate hand slowly clenched into a fist.
When the song reached its climactic second half, Jiang Qian fully realized—her piano skills were no match for his. This was the one area she had the most confidence in.
At that moment, Assistant Fang Meng also heard the music from the hallway and stepped inside. She stood there in shock, unable to speak.
Mid-performance, Lin Zhengran suddenly commented without warning: “If you handle this part like this, it’ll sound much better. Give it a try.”
He replayed the same section once more.
Jiang Qian looked at him. Lin Zhengran also turned to her. Honestly, he didn’t care whether she listened or not—he was just offering a friendly tip.
Though she said nothing, the girl still sat at her own piano and gave his suggestion a try.
She messed up the first attempt.
Lin Zhengran reminded her, “The second note—”
“I got it.” She adjusted her posture and tried again—and this time, played it smoothly. Jiang Qian was amazed.
That section she had practiced countless times, tried numerous methods and still couldn’t get perfect—but after just under a minute of his guidance, she suddenly grasped it like it was second nature.
She played it again, twice, in disbelief. Both times, the melody was nearly flawless.
Lin Zhengran was impressed by how fast she learned. While his twofold learning speed only applied to contracted partners, when teaching others, he was just a skilled instructor.
Even when tutoring Han Wenwen before, he had to explain some questions multiple times before she got them.
But with Jiang Qian, she understood before he could even finish the sentence.
Talent really did vary from person to person.
Lin Zhengran complimented, “You’re really talented. I bet you’ll achieve a lot in this field. So how about we start rehearsing the duet we’re doing for tomorrow night? Let’s see what we’re playing.”
He picked up the score next to him—it was a very simple piano piece, even beginners could learn it. Lin Zhengran said, “This one’s easy. Should we start now?”
Jiang Qian didn’t reply, only stared coldly at the piano, her gaze holding something else entirely.
Suddenly, she stood and walked toward the door. “Excuse me, I’ll step out for a bit.”
At the door, she paused. “Actually, I don’t think there’s any need to rehearse. My piano skills aren’t as good as yours. A simple song like the one we’re playing tomorrow—you can handle it effortlessly. I don’t even feel qualified to have you accompany me.”
Lin Zhengran blinked at her, wondering if it was really that serious. It’s just a performance, right? “So you’re not practicing tonight?”
Jiang Qian replied, “We’ll go straight on stage tomorrow. I know with your skills, it’ll go just fine.”
Then she left the room. Out in the hallway, Fang Meng had heard everything.
Others might not understand, but Fang Meng knew that even though Jiang Qian acted indifferent, she was actually extremely competitive. Only through proving herself could she feel worthy of her father’s heavy investment in her.
That was how she justified not wasting the family’s resources.
But Lin Zhengran, a boy from an ordinary background—his academic and athletic achievements could be brushed off as luck or natural build. But piano? Jiang Qian knew full well there was no such thing as luck in this field. Being outplayed meant being outplayed.
To the skilled, even the same song revealed a massive gap in ability. Let alone the fact that he was good enough to teach her.
“Qianqian! Are you okay?”
Jiang Qian glanced back at Fang Meng, then continued walking forward. “Going home. I want some quiet.”
A Rolls-Royce soon arrived at the school gate. As classmates, Jiang Qian and Fang Meng rode home together.
Meanwhile, Lin Zhengran sat alone in the classroom, listening to the rehearsals a few doors down, thinking, since there’s no more practice, I might as well read.
In the car ride home, Fang Meng looked at Jiang Qian’s gloomy expression.
“Qianqian?”
Jiang Qian couldn’t hear anything anymore.
She was sixteen years old this year and had never faced such a powerful opponent. Lin Zhengran’s performance left her with no clue how she could possibly surpass him.
That night, once she got home, she locked herself in her room. Lying on the bed, the Second Miss stared blankly into the distance, her eyes hollow.
The next morning, Jiang Qian came out of her room still wearing the same clothes.
Fang Meng understood. “Qianqian, you didn’t even change before sleeping last night.”
“Because I didn’t sleep at all.”
Fang Meng: “...That’s intense.”
Jiang Qian now looked like a walking corpse—numbly eating, washing up, taking the car to school, then staring into space in the practice room, all the way until that night’s official freshman welcome ceremony.
The homeroom teacher said nervously, “You two are up soon. Jiang Qian, Lin Zhengran—are you both ready?”
Lin Zhengran nodded, “No problem, teacher.”
Jiang Qian’s eyes were lifeless, her whole aura radiating despair. She muttered softly, “Don’t worry, teacher. There won’t be any problem.”
Cold sweat formed on Lin Zhengran’s forehead. What’s up with her? Why does she seem like a completely different person today?
Still, the speech went smoothly. Despite her state, Jiang Qian wouldn’t embarrass her family on stage. As a freshman representative, she delivered a passionate, rousing speech that energized the crowd.
Their piano duet afterward also went flawlessly, elegant and refined.
All the freshmen in the audience clapped and cheered at the beautiful piano performance.
Over in Class 3-3’s seating area, Little He Qing watched jealously as the two stood side by side on stage, her little hands clenched tightly.
Jiang Xueli also gritted her teeth, squeezing her tiny fists, thinking: Why do they look so much like a couple?! D*mn you, Zhengran!
Only the ever-perceptive Han Wenwen had been watching from backstage. Curious, she blinked: “Hmm? Jiang Qian looks like she’s taken a major emotional hit… what happened?”
She looked toward Lin Zhengran, her sensitive instincts flaring as she mumbled, “I suddenly have a really bad feeling…”
After Lin Zhengran and Jiang Qian stepped offstage, Jiang Qian’s cool demeanor once again collapsed into despair. From their duet alone, she could hear the huge gap between her and Lin Zhengran—it was overwhelming.
After the freshman showcase ended, Jiang Qian took three days of sick leave to rest at home.
It wasn’t until the morning of the fourth day that the Second Miss finally woke up from under her blanket, cheeks flushed, lying on the pillow with a maiden’s shy expression.