A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 285 One more time, One more chance
The woman picked up the acceptance letter from the table; it looked like it had been there for a while, still in its postal packaging.

"Where's the knife?"

"kitchen."

"Great."

"What? That's great! Are you worried I'll leave a knife on the table and then agonize over whether or not to commit suicide?"

The woman frowned and said it was really unlucky, leaving him alone on the sofa playing games with the controller while she went to the kitchen to open the notice.

The woman was his piano teacher.

A few years ago, he was just a young piano student standing next to a woman, turning pages of sheet music. The gentle, refined, quiet, and elegant pianist was the image of his future wife in his youthful fantasies, his so-called ideal type.

The teacher had been married for many years. When he was working in Scandinavia, he would occasionally see her husband picking her up from work on a bicycle, looking quite affectionate. Perhaps because they had a son, the teacher took good care of him. After discovering the boy's talent for the piano, she taught him everything she knew. This kind of piano teacher, who graduated from Vienna, charged by the minute for lessons, but she never charged the boy a single penny.

"The university you chose is too..."

The teacher said tactfully to him as he played games with a controller, "You're wasting your talent."

"The dorm has air conditioning, four-person rooms, and private bathrooms, which is pretty good." He said while playing, "The Civil Engineering Department ranks among the top three in Jianghai City, so it can be considered a semi-prestigious university."

"But you chose accounting as your major."

The teacher shook his head and said, "Forget about Tsinghua or Peking University, with your grades, you should at least choose a 985 university to repeat a year."

"Shengxin wouldn't dare take me back. When I missed the second day of the college entrance exam, the principal was going to call me non-stop, but as soon as the news came out, he went silent."

“Other schools are fine too.” The teacher sat down next to him and said softly, “Manager Chen said he could find a way.”

He shook his head. "No, thank you. Accounting is a good major; it's easy to get certified. A lot of people hold a grudge against me now, so I don't want to cause trouble for Brother Chen."

“He doesn’t find it troublesome.” The teacher pointed to the brand-new electronic keyboard on the table. “Manager Chen asked me to buy this as a graduation gift for you. He said he would come to see you after he returns to China.”

A Yamaha electronic keyboard. Although it's not as impressive as the seven-figure Steinway that Mi family owns, it's still a valuable gift.

"Thank you," he said sullenly.

"Would you like to study abroad? Boston, a foreign land where nobody knows you." The teacher looked at him and revealed the true purpose of her trip.

"I have a senior classmate who's a professor at Berklee College of Music; she can help you write a letter of recommendation. With your abilities, it shouldn't be a problem, and the TOEFL isn't difficult either."

"And the fees?" No music student is unfamiliar with Berklee College of Music, and he was no exception. "I'm not some star with a management company backing me up; tuition alone will be two million by graduation."

"No savings?"

The part-time teaching job at Mi Yutong's home was introduced by her teacher.

So I know his income very well; he should have earned quite a lot in just over two years.

"The money was all used to treat the elderly."

Upon hearing this, the teacher looked at the new black-and-white photograph on the altar and couldn't help but feel a pang of indescribable sorrow. But the boy was already an adult, a man by now, and his face showed little emotion, suggesting he had long been mentally prepared for the loss of his loved ones.

So many things have happened in the past two months. Any other eighteen-year-old sheltered flower would probably have had a mental breakdown or fallen into depression by now, but he is like nothing happened, sitting here playing games, with the barbarian holding a sword and shield rolling around on the ground to avoid attacks.
Is it that he is mature enough to be resilient, or is it that his personality is somewhat twisted? The teacher doesn't think this is a good thing.

"Oh, right," the man said, "I will return every penny of the money he gave me. It may take a little time, but I will pay it all back."

"Who should it be returned to?" the teacher couldn't help but ask. "Although there hasn't been a verdict yet, it's definitely a death sentence. The amount involved is enormous; the news reports say all his assets are embezzled funds, even his company shares."

“Just return it to the task force. Consider it part of his ill-gotten gains and confiscate it.” The man said this without a hint of reluctance. “My grandfather taught me every day when I was a child that I shouldn’t earn dirty money. In his will, he still told me to be an honest person.”

The teacher sighed softly, feeling somewhat guilty.

"If I hadn't introduced you to him, perhaps none of this would have happened."

“No.” He said firmly, “Even if you didn’t introduce me, someone else, maybe Brother Chen, or maybe my homeroom teacher, would have told me about a tutoring job with a high daily wage. He’s meticulous in his work, and these past years, he’s been trying to make amends for the bad things he did, so he came after me. This is karma.”

The teacher fell silent. Since the news broke, she had also learned some inside information from the manager of Nordic Fantasy. This was a just cause for revenge.

"Don't worry, teacher." The man laughed easily. "I won't die until the money is paid off. There's no need to come and see if I've committed suicide. As you can see, everything is normal. I've just finished what I needed to do. This was my college entrance exam, and now that it's over, I'm on vacation. I got good results, so I should play and sleep as usual."

The teacher didn't know how to respond.

I had to change the subject, "What are you playing? A horror game?"

"Dark Souls 3. It's been out for a while now and it's pretty boring."

He said he was bored, but it was easy to see from his gameplay that he had mastered the combat technique of memorizing moves from memory. The boss on the game console screen couldn't even touch the character he was controlling.

"You bought it yourself? I've never heard you talk about games before."

"It was given to me by Mi Yutong."

He said this with a normal expression, without any resentment, as if to prove that he was really unaffected. "The game cartridge was a bonus edition that came with the PS4."

There was no further conversation between the two. The teacher peeled an apple for herself and sat down to watch the boy play video games.

The afternoon passed slowly. She exclaimed "Ah!" and looked at her ringing phone, saying it was time to pick up the kids from school.

The teacher's car was parked right outside the door, and judging from the brand, her family was extremely well-off. It seemed that her husband picking her up from get off work on his bicycle was just a part of their romantic relationship. He dropped her off at her doorstep, and as she waved goodbye after getting into the car, he said, "I can help you with your tuition at Berkeley. You can pay it back in installments after graduation."

"Interest will be charged, at the bank rate." Seemingly mindful of his pride, she added, "I'm only lending you tuition. Boston is expensive; you'll have to work to support yourself there, it won't be as easy as it is now."

He smiled happily.

"Thank you, teacher." This was the first time he had ever called a woman "teacher"; he usually addressed her as "Sister Jing" like his other colleagues.

She never acknowledged him as her student. He knew that his teacher disliked his piano playing, finding it devoid of emotion and merely following the score mechanically. From a pianist's perspective, she despised this way of playing that squandered his talent, yet she was still willing to lend him a helping hand time and time again.

The reason is simple: he is a kind and good person, just like Brother Chen.

Not everything I encountered during my three years of high school was against my will.

Seeing the genuine smile on his face when he said thank you, the woman knew his answer. She shook her head helplessly and said:
"With a little guidance, he could easily make a name for himself in Berkeley."

"I think I'll pass. I don't really want to do piano-related work again in the future." He smiled bitterly. "The students I taught played like cows mooing; it was too torturous."

"You."

The teacher said softly, "If you feel uncomfortable, don't keep talking about it; that's just deceiving yourself."

"I'm not upset. After all, I never liked her."

"I went through all that when I was young. Since you call me teacher, listen to me. Even if it's not that painful, keep it hidden. Let time help you forget and truly let go. Stop forcing a smile."

She slowly reversed the car, and the man's figure receded from view.

"Pretend that a dead person is still alive, and keep saying it. But when the weight of life really comes down, the longer you pretend to be indifferent, the more painful it will be. It's like the tide that has accumulated over countless years, 'bang,' crashing all of it onto your heart." He didn't answer, but shrugged and spread his hands, with a carefree air reminiscent of the actors freezing in the final scene of a Hong Kong movie.

"Even if you don't pursue piano professionally, it's fine as a hobby. Don't let my hard work as a teacher go to waste. Oh, and remember to test the piano I give you—"

"What's the point of testing the electronic keyboard?" He shook his head helplessly, but the teacher's car had already driven far away.

Back in the quiet room, he didn't pick up the game controller again, but instead dragged a small stool to sit in front of the electronic keyboard.

This rural brick house, which could be equated with a poor household, doesn't look like the kind of place that could produce a pianist.

He moved the Yamaha keyboard, which seemed out of place in its surroundings, and aimed it at the limited edition PS4 game console, which was also beyond the reach of his family. Like a pianist adjusting his position relative to the audience, his ten fingers landed steadily on the keys.

"Are you going to see 'Your Name' after the college entrance exam? That animated movie looks amazing from the trailer!"

"Makoto Shinkai's new film? It won't be released until almost September. By then, it'll be in the UK, and if you want to see it, you'll only be able to watch the version with English subtitles, which you won't understand."

"Qin! How dare you underestimate me! Mere English letters... Hmph, you can just translate them as you read."

He remembered her as lacking confidence, yet she was so vivid in his mind that it was as if she were still right in front of him.

"Won't it disturb other people?"

"Why not just book the whole theater? I heard there's some kind of GT IMAX screen in London—"

"With that money, you could fly back to China for a visit."

"By the way, who is Makoto Shinkai?"

"He is the director of the movie you want to see, Miss."

"Is it famous?"

"I think so. They made an animated film called '5 Centimeters Per Second,' but I haven't seen it."

"Want to watch it together?"

"Now?"

The fingers began to move naturally.

A simple melody, tinged with a touch of sadness, began to play. He was playing the theme song from that animated film, a song that a certain girl, still alive, had watched after watching the movie and cried, asking him to learn.

With an expression so calm it couldn't be calmer.

After he finished playing, he put away the electronic keyboard and continued playing games until dark, just like every young person who stays up all night after finishing the college entrance examination.

Unfortunately, if the teacher hadn't left and heard this piece here, he might have said that there was no need to go to Berkeley anymore.

Celia released the last key, the lingering chord echoing in the office.

She looked nervously at Quinn, who was keeping his eyes closed and silent. Amamiya Nene, who was listening in, asked first, "Respected teacher, how is it?"

I've been practicing the chords for this song, "Sunny Day," for so many days that Amamiya Nene can hum them out.

Quinn nodded slightly.

"I feel like you're not an ordinary keyboardist. You're the keyboardist who formed TFBOYS, and the keyboardist who arranged the song 'Source'."

Celia was pleasantly surprised, thinking she had been praised, and revealed her happy and sweet dimples.

"Mr. Quinn, have I passed?!"

“I mean, you play like a cow mooing,” Quinn said with a dark expression.

Celia's smile vanished after being hit hard. Quinn was only truly ruthless and merciless when it came to the piano; he was an extremely strict teacher.

“No.” Quinn looked at her speechlessly, “The night before the Forbidden Forest Trial, I saw you running to the office to practice the piano. I thought you had mastered it.”

"Now that I listen to it, why does it sound even worse than before?"

Celia bowed her head as she was scolded, her hands on her lap and her knees together—a posture almost identical to that of piano students worldwide when being scolded.

"Not as good as before?" Amamiya Nene spoke up for her student. "I think she's improved a lot. Are you deliberately insulting pretty girls to satisfy your perverted fetish?"

Amamiya Nene wasn't making things up.

As the daughter of a nobleman, even though she never formally studied a musical instrument under her parents' carefree upbringing, she was exposed to performances by the top orchestras in Taymourne from a young age. Her musical appreciation was superior to that of most nobles, and she was very discerning about music.

The fact that Nene Amamiya was allowed to practice piano in the office, and even listened to it a little longer after school each day, was not due to any sense of responsibility as a teacher, but rather because she thought it sounded good.

Quinn's music was so perfectly suited to the little witch's aesthetic that she could tolerate Celia's stumbling practice.

She said Celia has improved, and she really has.

When a beginner plays a piece on the piano, it's like going down a staircase, stumbling and staggering, with obvious pauses and occasional wrong notes, like twisting your ankle while climbing stairs. Even if you practice for a long time and can play more fluently, it's just like going down the stairs step by step instead of step by step, taking big steps. Even a discerning ear can hear the difference.

Celia had always been like this.

However, her progress today was very obvious. Although she still didn't play very well, she no longer seemed like a beginner. The chords in "Sunny Day" clearly conveyed a sense of rhythm, and the pauses were greatly reduced. In Amamiya Nene's opinion, the piece was absolutely listenable.

However, Quinn shook his head and said, "The worst thing you can do when learning piano is to try to cheat on fingering and press the keys, especially for beginners. Do you know what you're playing like right now?"

“What does it look like?” Celia asked softly.

"Like a rich woman." Quinn used the most exaggerated description music professors liked to use: "A rich woman who pays exorbitant tuition for piano lessons, but only practices sporadically. She can play, and at first glance seems impressive, but she only plays the same two favorite pieces over and over again. The moment she holds up a new sheet music, her ignorance is exposed. She can only impress her husband with last-minute practice sessions—"

As he spoke, he looked into Celia's eyes and then fell silent, his expression subtle as if he had thought of something.

Celia looked at her innocently.

Amamiya Nene, a teacher who loves to praise, couldn't stand such viciousness and asked unhappily, "So is it good or bad?"

“Forget about this piece, consider it past.” Quinn averted his gaze. “But you’ll need to practice the fingering again. Pick a new piece, and I’ll teach you step by step.”

Celia was prepared for this.

She picked up the sheet music beside her and asked, "How about this one?"

Quinn's eyes flickered slightly as he stared at the sheet music, lost in thought for a moment.

The sheet music clearly stated:

Cherry blossoms fall at a speed of five centimeters per second.

(End of this chapter)