Transmigration of the Famous Cyber Star

Every year, to commemorate its establishment, the Shanghai Experimental Middle School holds a large-scale art performance, an event for singers and dancers alike to show off their talents. On this day, the school opens to parents of all students, and the parents were willing.

Last year’s performance, the program prepared by 11th-grade’s Class 1 was Duan Nanfeng’s piano solo. He was the star of the show and won the title of the school hunk.

There is no new program from Class 1 this year: No one had the confidence to defeat Duan Nanfeng. The teacher had planned to submit Duan Nanfeng’s piano performance again but suddenly remembered that Ji Ning’s admission profile stated that she was virtually a virtuoso.

So Duan Nanfeng’s piano solo became a duet. The piece played by the two was called “The Sound of the Wind.”

…

There was a grand piano in the school’s music classroom. Liu Man arrived at the music classroom early at 6:30 am. Probably because she came too early, there were only two crew members chatting in the classroom.

Liu Man said hello to the two of them and walked before the piano. She lifted the lid, ran her fingers across the familiar black and white keys, and tried a few notes first.

She set the score on the stand, sat down, and began to play.

As soon as the two staff members heard the tune, they stopped talking and began listening tentatively to Liu Man’s piano.

Compared to the classical by famous musicians, the melody of “The Sound of Wind” wasn’t very technical, leaving out any complicated rhythms and timbres. It was more like an easy-to-understand pop song that fits the aesthetics of modern people. The song was sweet but with a touch of sadness; it seemed to imply that the short life of the character Ji Ning was fleeting, like the wind.

After Liu Man played it start-to-end for the first time, someone clapped from behind her.

She turned her head, she didn’t even realize Tang Tu was here. Not only was he there, but Ye Zian and some other staff were, too. Liu Man quickly stood up.

Next to Ye Zian stood a young, short man with glasses and a small beard. The man stared at Liu Man with a look of surprise, and looked her up and down, “Wait, wait, wait, aren’t you the Hanfu goddess?”

Ye Zian was confused, “Who’s Hanfu Goddess?”

“Director Ye, you don’t pay any attention to the internet, huh? In the past few days, there was this video that was popular on Wei Bo. This lady is the lead in the video, and everyone on Wei Bo calls her ‘Hanfu Goddess,’” The young man had a deep impression of Liu Man.

Ye Zian had a Wei Bo account registered by his assistant. He never used it, and barely posted once every few months. If it weren’t for the 1 million fans who followed him, his Wei Bo would’ve died.

“Oh,” Ye Zian nodded to show he had understood and asked the young man, “How well do you think she plays?”

“Fairly well! I told you, I don’t have high expectations.”

The time felt of the essence, and Tang Tu introduced Liu Man to this man, “He’s the composer of ‘The Sound of the Wind,’ Xue Feiyun.”

Liu Man guessed it, too. Although Xue Feiyang didn’t have stereotypically good looks and stereotypically good posture, he carried with him an artistic aura and looked like a composer.

“Teacher Xue, hello,” Liu Man walked up and greeted him.

TL’s Note: Although ‘Teacher Xue’ seems weird, it’s how she greeted him and it’s normal in Chinese. We couldn’t translate it into ‘Professor Xue’ because that would seem even weirder, don’t you think?

“No, no, no. I don’t deserve to be called a teacher. I’m just someone who sells songs,” Xue Feiyun said humbly and closely examined Liu Man again. In his head, he was exulting over how this girl was even prettier than in that video.

Later, Liu Man learned from the internet and others that Xue Feiyun was a very popular gold-medal composer and a Berklee grad. It proved how sometimes books shouldn’t be judged from their covers.

“Since you’re fine with it, let her work with Tang Tu. If they make good progress, we can start filming tomorrow morning,” Ye Zian said.

Xue Feiyun made an ‘OK’ gesture.

“Oh, yeah. Did you get the lyrics I told you to find?” He asked Ye Zian.

Ye Zian, as if having a headache, said, “I’ve been head-over-heels to film this movie, and I never had the time. We can talk later when we finish filming the scenes.”

Xue Feiyun shrugged, “Your choice. If you delay the progress of this film, don’t blame it on me.”

Ye Zian then looked towards Liu Man and Tang Tu, “Feiyun will be instructing you two on the piano tonight. Do whatever he tells you to.”

With those last words, Ye Zian went quickly. There were still a bunch of people at the garden villa waiting for him, and he didn’t want to bog down the progress.

“I heard from Director Ye that you’re both from Capital City Music University. Since you’re music majors, I don’t have to instruct you much on technique,” Xue Feiyun stroked his beard as he told the duo. “I wrote this song after I read the script, which I thoroughly enjoyed. My only requirement for you is to work in harmony and finish the entire song. Director Ye doesn’t like his movies to be dubbed and wants to record the exact audio as he works. I hope you can cooperate well enough to succeed on your first try tomorrow.”

Although Xue Feiyun claimed he didn’t have high expectations, he had strict requirements. Not to mention the vagueness of “harmony” and “finish the entire song”! The not dubbing meant Liu Man and Tang Tu had to play out the effects of an actual piano concert tomorrow. This was impossible for amateur pianists or hobbyists. No wonder Professor Qiu went to the university to search for an actress.

This wasn’t hard for Tang Tu—the issue was with Liu Man. She had never attended a real concert.

Tang Tu saw Liu Man’s expression. He eavesdropped on her playing a couple of times and knew how she played, so he comforted, “Don’t worry. We can practice a few more times tonight, but you have to first believe in yourself.”

“Okay, then let’s divide and conquer. Tang Tu, you will be playing the chorus and the tonal modification parts. Liu Man, you will play the original score,” Xue Feiyun said as he penned a few marks on the score, “You can start practicing now. If you have any parts that you can’t play or don’t understand, ask.”

Tang Tu was the first to sit down in front of the piano. He smiled as he said to Liu Man, “Let me warm up first.”

He then began to play “The Sound of the Wind.” The natural and coherent music flowed from the keyboard under his hands.

Liu Man turned her head, feeling astonished. No wonder the students in their school all treated Tang Tu like a legend, for Tang Tu was a legend. Not to mention his exceedingly handsome appearance: He looked as if he was glowing when he played the piano.

Listening to his almost perfect “warm-up,” who could have thought he was a violin major?

They were both playing an instrument they were not the best with, but Tang Tu far exceeded Liu Man.

Liu Man could not imagine him on the violin.

Xue Feiyun was also very satisfied, and remarked “Great” three times in a row.

If the duo was fine when they played individually, what would they be like together?

Credits: Isabella, Sydney, Michelle, Teresa

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