Chapter 79: She Looks Like Someone Easy to Bully

The melodious sound of the piano echoed through the classroom. Fang Xing’s hands moved across the keys, sometimes swift, sometimes gentle, as if every cell in his body followed the rhythm of the score.

In the front row, two girls sat side by side—Lu Xiang’er and Ning Xiaoyun.

Ning Xiaoyun nudged Lu Xiang’er with her elbow and whispered, “This guy plays pretty well. But he’s wearing a mask, so who knows if he’s actually handsome. The upper half of his face looks fine, but what if his nose and mouth ruin everything?”

It was true—some boys transformed instantly with a mask. Lu Xiang’er couldn’t stand her childhood friend’s obsession and retorted, “Why don’t you ask for his WeChat?”

Ning Xiaoyun’s eyes sparkled. “Sure! I’ll just say, ‘Hey, buddy, my Xiangxiang wants your WeChat, show us your QR code!’”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Lu Xiang’er, embarrassed and annoyed, pounded her with a tiny fist.

Their playful commotion caught the teacher’s attention.

The teacher cleared her throat. “Alright, time to start the ensemble. Liszt’s First Piano Concerto, first movement, get ready.”

At the command, all the students took up their instruments, preparing themselves. Lu Xiang’er hurried to stand at the front of the violin section, rested her violin on her shoulder, and grasped the bow in her right hand.

The ensemble teacher turned to Fang Xing, pointing at a spot on the score. “You’ll come in here.”

Fang Xing nodded. “Alright.”

Once everyone was arranged, the teacher returned to the center of the classroom to conduct the orchestra.

When it was time for the piano to join, the teacher glanced back, gesturing with the baton toward Fang Xing and softly prompted, “Piano, now.”

Fang Xing’s fingers struck the piano keys, producing a crisp, resonant note, and then he followed the score in earnest.

Strings, woodwinds, and brass played together, their music merging into a graceful symphony.

With the teacher’s guidance, the ensemble was remarkably synchronized.

Lu Xiang’er stood at the front of the violin section, her right hand drawing the bow back and forth across the strings. Listening to the melody woven from a dozen instruments, a smile gradually lit her face.

She loved moments like this—they brought her back to the warmth of childhood, filled with sunlight.

Violin was her passion, and she aspired to be the concertmaster. She practiced diligently, partly because her mother was strict.

Ning Xiaoyun belonged to the cello section. She wasn’t nearly as dedicated, relying on her decent talent to get by and not particularly caring about being the lead cellist.

The classroom was filled with the soaring notes of the piano concerto.

Occasionally, a student stumbled or fell out of rhythm.

When the teacher noticed, she approached and used hand signals to urge them to catch up.

The first movement of Liszt’s First Piano Concerto was performed smoothly, the overall effect impressive, its flaws overshadowed by its strengths.

For second-year students, this was already a commendable achievement.

The teacher began pointing out each student’s issues—mostly unfamiliarity with the score, missed beats, or rushing the tempo.

Those who made it into the Eastern Conservatory’s orchestral program had solid foundations; it was just that ensemble rehearsals had been few.

Time slipped away in the flow of music.

The bell rang for the end of class.

The teacher returned to the piano and praised, “The piano was played beautifully. Are you sure you’re not a piano major?”

“Mm, I’m a vocal major, but I’ve studied piano for over ten years,” Fang Xing replied humbly.

“Thank you for today. You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

The teacher was quite young, likely stayed on as faculty right after graduation, vibrant and full of energy.

“Alright,” Fang Xing answered with a smile.

Of course, it was just a polite response; whether he’d come again was another matter.

After class, students packed their instruments slowly, stowing them in cases, and drifted out in groups.

Ning Xiaoyun always took her time packing the cello, pausing every so often to chat with Lu Xiang’er.

“Hurry up, you’re so slow,” Lu Xiang’er couldn’t help complaining.

“My cello’s way bigger than your violin, obviously you’re faster,” Ning Xiaoyun shot back with an eye roll.

Lu Xiang’er ended up helping her pack the cello.

Once the cello was packed, the two prepared to leave the classroom.

At that moment, Fang Xing approached, eyeing them with interest but saying nothing at first.

Ning Xiaoyun pointed at Fang Xing and asked Lu Xiang’er, “Your friend?”

“No, I don’t know him,” Lu Xiang’er quickly replied, moving a little further away from Fang Xing.

Ning Xiaoyun gestured to herself, then to Lu Xiang’er. “Looking for me or her?”

Fang Xing tilted his head toward Lu Xiang’er. “I want to speak with her.”

“Got it, but don’t bully our Xiangxiang,” Ning Xiaoyun said with a knowing look, winking at Lu Xiang’er.

“Alright,” Fang Xing agreed.

Ning Xiaoyun blinked, gave him a thumbs-up. “You played the piano really well.”

“Thank you,” Fang Xing replied modestly.

“Good luck!” Ning Xiaoyun bumped Lu Xiang’er’s arm, grinned mischievously, and walked away.

“Hey! Don’t go…” Lu Xiang’er tried to grab Ning Xiaoyun, but missed.

Her childhood friend had left her alone with this boy, making her a bit nervous.

She didn’t know him at all.

If they weren’t in the classroom, she would’ve screamed and run.

Lu Xiang’er eyed Fang Xing nervously, keeping her distance. “What do you want?”

Fang Xing pulled a business card from his pocket and offered it. “The owner of this music shop used to make handcrafted instruments—he’s really skilled. If you need your violin repaired, you should try him.”

Lu Xiang’er was taken aback and asked softly, “How did you know my violin was broken?”

Fang Xing looked sheepish, lowering his mask a bit. “Because I broke it. But, legally speaking, the blame isn’t actually on me.”

“You!”

Lu Xiang’er’s eyes widened.

Fang Xing slipped the business card into her hand. “If you want it fixed, you can give him a try.”

“Actually, it’s not necessary…” Lu Xiang’er frowned, unsure how to refuse.

“You were sobbing that day—are you sure you don’t want it fixed?” Fang Xing teased, grinning.

“No, I just…” Lu Xiang’er didn’t know how to explain.

It was something she’d kept in her heart, not something she wanted to share with a stranger.

Fang Xing watched her hesitation with amused interest—her manner was simply too endearing.

In truth, men’s preferences for women are fairly constant. If you like a certain type, you always like that type. Or perhaps it’s a particular quality—anyone who has it will attract you.

Lu Xiang’er looked gentle and frail, easy to bully.

She reminded Fang Xing of a silly little girl from his neighborhood when he was young—her chubby cheeks would crumple into tears if pinched, and she’d cry for ages.

But only he could pinch her; if anyone else tried, it would start a fight.

Fang Xing had done just that as a child, though he felt deeply ashamed about it now as an adult.

“The owner of this shop might not take on repairs anymore. If he won’t help, call me and I’ll talk to him for you.”

Fang Xing found a pen on the lectern, wrote down his number, handed it to her, then put his mask back on and left.

…