The Boss Lost His Memory and Only Remembers Me

Grading

Why was he here?

Wen Qiao initially thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But when she fixed her gaze, she saw that it was indeed Fu Nanli. Donned in a classy custom-made suit, he gave off a noble and aloof charm with his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. As he walked on the stairs laid with carpet, every step he took he looked like a deity descended on a high-end luxury runway, making her heart pound wildly.

Even as he casually sat down on an empty seat and adjusted his sleeves, it was hard to tear her eyes away. With his long legs crossed and his gaze nonchalantly roaming the place, he resembled a tycoon who was here to view a jewelry show.

As the domed lights dimmed, it seemed as though there was a sky full of stars above his head, making the man’s handsome facial features appear all the more deep-set and superior.

A contemptuous remark sounded behind Wen Qiao. “Pipa? You’re thinking of entering the Central Conservatory of Music with pipa? From how I see it, it’s a busker’s art. Similar to the erhu, it’s a musical instrument used by beggars to beg for alms. You must be delusional to think you stand to enter the Central Conservatory of Music. Tsch.”

Wen Qiao picked up her pipa and adjusted the strings. She cast a glance at Xu Lu’s bestie, Zhao Tong, and said in an icy tone, “Traditional musical instruments are a Chinese culture quintessence, and you look down your nose at them. Is it hard on you to be born and bred in this country? Since you feel so aggrieved, why are you applying for the Central Conservatory of Music? Why not Berklee instead? Ah, is it because they wouldn’t take you in?”

Zhao Tong clenched her teeth. “Whichever school I apply for is none of your business! Look at how many people are learning traditional musical instruments now. It’s something that doesn’t appeal to refined tastes to begin with.”

Wen Qiao adjusted the strings and casually strung them a couple of times.

“In 1936, with the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War sparked by Francisco Franco, Mr. Pablo Casals—one of the greatest cellists of all time—ceased all his performance engagements to protest this war. He’s a peace-loving person, yet you’re so combative. If he were to see a cellist of a later generation make a distinction of highliness and lowliness between different musical instruments, he’ll probably feel that you’re not fit to play the cello.”

Zhao Tong couldn’t even come up with a single word of rebut.

It was only then did Xu Lu step out to ease the situation. “Tongtong, stop it. Western musical instruments and traditional musical instruments each have their own merits. We need to show the quintessence of Chinese culture some support.”

Lu Youyou pulled Wen Qiao to one side and scoffed softly. “Pretentious. Just ignore her. Come, let’s practice one more time.”

In their specialized practice room, Zhao Tong said to Xu Lu with her teeth clenched, “Lulu, why did you pull me away? It

is

a fact that traditional musical instruments don’t appeal to refined tastes. Most of those in the Traditional Instruments Department are only there because they failed to hit the required standard in other musical instruments, and were transferred over. What are they so cocky about? How dare a pipa player swagger before people like us who play the cello and piano? This is infuriating.”

Xu Lu patted her on her shoulder. “Forget it, if we get into a fight and this blows up, we might lose our interview opportunity. We have more to lose than we have to gain.”

A sneer appeared on Zhao Tong’s face. “Our families sponsored the Central Conservatory of Music student concerts. No way would they cancel our interview opportunity. Even if they were to cancel anyone’s interview, it would be Wen Qiao’s. We ought to have blown up the matter just now.”

It wasn’t that Xu Lu really wanted to break up the fight, but earlier, Zhuang Yan was leaning against the door and watching them quietly. Her public persona had always been that of a gentle and demure girl, so she feared that Zhuang Yan would overthink if she didn’t at least try to stop things from escalating.

All thanks to that, Wen Qiao was let off lightly.

Someone behind Zhao Tong urged her, “Just let Wen Qiao perform. I heard that among the three professors present, two of them have no interest in traditional musical instruments. I’ll bet she won’t be able to get an A grade.”

The interview grades were ranked S, A, B, and C. S was the highest grade and only those who obtained grades A and above would get into the Central Conservatory of Music.

Only then was Zhao Tong’s anger appeased slightly. “Exactly. She definitely won’t be able to pass the interview. Let’s just bear with the beggar’s art for a bit. Guess our ears will have to endure some suffering.”

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