Chapter 3

When the school bell rang, before Li Qian could slip away, Teacher Qi Jie had already called his name, "Li Qian, come to my office after school."

Amidst the laughter of the students, who happily returned home, Li Qian had no choice but to follow Teacher Qi to her office.

Wearing a black skirt that reached her knees, with well-proportioned and slender legs, delicate ankles, flesh-colored long stockings, and strapped high-heeled sandals... she walked step by step, unhurriedly, in front of Li Qian.

Elegant like a cat, sexy like a fox.

Once in the office, Teacher Qi Jie sat down, tapped the table, and said, "Tell me, what exactly are you trying to do?"

Li Qian's head hung low, his attitude exceptionally sincere, and he said, "Teacher, I was wrong."

"Wrong? Is saying you were wrong enough?"

Li Qian remained silent.

Reflecting now, he felt that at that moment in class, he might have been a bit infatuated. Although this era seemed more open about love and marriage, the respect for teachers and the value of learning were even more deeply ingrained than in his previous life. Publicly flirting with a young female teacher in front of so many people...

Seeing that he was not speaking, Teacher Qi Jie said, "Why do you always say such strange things? What's going on between you and Wang Jinglu? Whether you are dating or will marry in the future, I can't control that now, but you can't express your feelings in my class, can you? Every time you make the whole class laugh, how can other students concentrate on their studies?"

Uh, she didn't even mention the part about flirting with the female teacher?

But upon careful thought, it made sense. In the eyes of adults, a seventeen-year-old boy making a joke was at most a playful expression of admiration, not really flirting.

In simpler terms: You're just a seventeen-year-old kid, what do you know about flirting?

At this moment, Li Qian didn't dare to look up, afraid that she might see something, so he repeated more sincerely, "Teacher, I was wrong."

"Know you were wrong? Good, knowing you were wrong is good!"

Teacher Qi Jie unscrewed her pink thermos and took a sip of water, then said, "Other teachers don't have many requirements, and I don't plan to punish you. But can you try to improve your grades a bit?"

Li Qian looked up at her, then lowered his head.

Teacher Qi Jie said, "Look at you, such a smart kid, always ready with a joke. I remember when you first entered high school, you were in the top ten of the class. But look at you now, out of forty-five students, you're ranked forty-third! I know you're good at Chinese, always have been, but being good at Chinese alone isn't enough. You need to work harder in other subjects, okay?"

What could he say? Li Qian could only nod and say, "Okay!"

Teacher Qi Jie thought for a moment and said, "Here's the deal: in my Chinese class, you can do whatever you want, study whatever subject you like, as long as you don't disrupt the class or fall asleep. You can study math, English, Russian, whatever you want. I won't say anything else, but seeing your excellent Chinese scores and your English and Russian scores of only thirty or forty points, I know you haven't been putting in the effort. Language subjects are interconnected; if you put in a little effort, you wouldn't score so low..."

...

After school, Li Qian finally had time to find a music store and buy a set of strings.

In his previous life, he had played the guitar for over twenty years, from classical guitars, flamenco guitars, electric guitars, Hawaiian guitars, to plectrum guitars, he was proficient in all of them. How could a hundred-yuan folk guitar be a challenge?

He quickly replaced the strings and started tuning the guitar.

For a beginner, tuning a guitar requires a piano to set the pitch, but Li Qian didn't need that; the pitch was in his head.

Fortunately, although the guitar had been left under the bed for at least ten years, the third floor of the building wasn't damp, so the guitar's sound and resonance were almost unaffected.

...

Hearing the sporadic guitar sounds from the room, Li Qian's father, Li Shuwen, knocked on the door and poked his head in, "What's going on? Why are you playing the guitar again?"

Li Qian lifted the guitar, feeling more excited than he had in both his lives, "I bought a new set of strings after school and just replaced them. Dad, I wrote a song, do you want to listen?"

Li Qian's father looked skeptical, "You only learned for three days ten years ago, and you were shaking your head like a tambourine, refusing to learn. Now, ten years later, you can change strings and write songs?"

Li Qian said seriously, "I have a talent!"

Li Qian's father waved him over, "Come, let me see the lyrics. You can use this talent to fool little girls later!"

Li Qian asked, "Lyrics? You mean your tree?"

Li Qian's father looked a bit unhappy, "What tree? You don't know anything. This essay is called 'Hometown Yellow Flowers,' and it's just been finalized. Come, give me some feedback."

Li Qian said, "No, I won't look at your draft unless you listen to my song first. Do you understand the concept of 'first come, first served'?"

Li Qian's father, being a reasonable person, hesitated but decided to humor his son to get some serious feedback. "Alright, alright, you sing, I'll listen!"

Li Qian cleared his throat, tested the strings one last time to ensure the pitch was right, and then thought, considering his father's age and his deep appreciation for literature, if he played something like "My Territory" or "Little Apple," his father's brows would probably furrow into a field of terraces. But a song too classical, like Liu Huan's "Love Grievance," with its Beijing opera style, was clearly not something he could write now.

After a moment's thought, Li Qian made up his mind. The clear and gentle guitar sounds began, accompanied by the clattering from the kitchen and the hum of the exhaust fan—

"When petals leave the flower, the fragrance lingers,

The scent fades in the wind and rain, no one comes to smell.

If love tells me to go on,

I will fight until the end of love.

If the heart dies in the brilliance,

Love will be reborn from the ashes.

Remember the tender whispers,

Use your smile to mourn for me.

Let the heart die in the brilliance,

Let love be reborn from the ashes.

The fire burns the grass, and the green returns,

Look, it's another year of spring breeze."

...

The song was definitely a good one, a masterpiece that the entire music industry might not produce in a year. Li Qian's guitar arrangement was of high quality, and his voice, though untrained and a bit weak in breath control, was still much better than in his previous life. He knew how to use his voice, and the high notes and transitions between real and falsetto were almost effortless, giving the song a rich flavor. The entire performance felt excellent.

Although Li Qian's current voice couldn't match the original singer's soft and deep tone, it would definitely impress a room full of people at a KTV.

This was his first performance in this life, far from perfect, but Li Qian was very invested and emotional. After the guitar sounds faded, he opened his eyes after a moment and looked at his father nervously, "Dad, how was it?"

Li Qian's father seemed to be savoring it, and after a moment, he said, "This... you wrote this?"

"Ah! I wrote it!" Li Qian said.

Li Qian's father pondered for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face, then he seemed to have an idea and looked at Li Qian with a conflicted expression.

Li Qian stared at him with wide eyes.

Li Qian's father walked into the room, pulled over Li Qian's computer chair, and sat down. After a moment of thought, he said seriously, "Xiao Qian, let me tell you something. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. The most important thing is to find and develop your strengths. Do you understand this?"

Li Qian was a bit confused, "Dad, what do you mean? What are you talking about?"

Li Qian's father looked a bit embarrassed, rubbed his hands, and said, "Well, what I mean is... hey, my point is, if you want to attract girls, you don't need to sing or anything!"

Li Qian was even more confused, staring at his father with wide, puzzled eyes.

Li Qian's father frowned and said, "What I mean is... for example, your mother was beautiful, right? In your terms, she was a school beauty. Don't look at her now as just a housewife; she was very beautiful back then! Look in the mirror; you look more like her. And she wasn't just pretty; she was good at reciting, singing, acting, and hosting. She was our school's cultural star every year, very impressive! But your father, I wasn't ugly, just an ordinary person, and I had no artistic talent. But in the end, your mother still pursued me."

"Wow!" This was the first time Li Qian had heard his father talk about his past, and his eyes lit up. He sat on the bed, forgetting about the song, and asked, "So, tell me, how did you attract my mother back then?"

Li Qian's father straightened his back, his eyebrows almost flying up, "Nothing else, I had good literary talent! Singing, anyone can hum a few lines, but writing a novel, can anyone do that? Singing well is hard, but can she compare to turning a novel into print and earning a large sum of money? If I hadn't written novels and instead played the guitar for your mother, would she have chosen me?"

Li Qian pondered, starting to understand. But it was a bit confusing, and he wasn't quite sure.

After a moment, he said, "So, you mean I should focus on writing a love poem or something instead of singing, right? Is that what you mean?"

Li Qian's father slapped his thigh and leaned in, pointing to the opposite direction and whispering, "Actually, there's nothing wrong with singing, but the problem is that the sisters next door are in the music industry. If you copy a song and claim it as your own, won't it be exposed eventually? How embarrassing would that be?"

Indeed!

The old man had gone through so much trouble and made such a big detour, and it all came down to this!

He thought the song was a copy!

And once he thought it was a copy, he automatically filled in all the details: Li Qian was trying to impress Wang Jinglu by copying a song and claiming it as his own!

The old literary man's mind was indeed convoluted!

But the question was, was he that stupid?

Li Qian opened his mouth to defend himself, but... he scratched his head, suddenly not knowing what to say.

Honestly, in this world, he could confidently say that the song was his. But...

Li Qian's father was very pleased, thinking his timely and successful education of his son was a great achievement. He stood up, forgetting about showing his son the draft, and walked out. Before leaving, he felt something was missing and turned back, "By the way, you sang pretty well... what's the name of the song? Do you have a tape?"

Li Qian shook his head, looking melancholic, "The song is called 'Dark Fragrance.'"

Li Qian's father didn't notice his son's inner struggle and just nodded, "That's a good name, it fits! Especially the lyrics, they have a great atmosphere!"

...

After dinner, Li Qian's parents were watching TV in the living room, while Li Qian was alone in his room, feeling melancholic.

Was it true that people with principles suffered?

When faced with his father's doubts, he felt that if he strongly claimed the song was his original work, he would definitely blush... no wonder he had such a hard life in his previous life!

Too thin-skinned!

But thinking about his struggles in his previous life, he suddenly felt a bit more determined.

"Damn it, in my previous life, I struggled on the poverty line for thirty years, always dragging down the national statistics. I couldn't even afford a Ford Mustang, let alone an Aston Martin, Ferrari, or Porsche. In this life, I at least need to get a small sports car from Great Wall? Besides, in this world, this is definitely an original work!"

With this thought, his mind suddenly became clear.

He quickly took out his locked diary and started writing songs.

One song after another, with lyrics and music, and even some arrangements. For someone who had been a semi-professional songwriter and amateur singer in the music industry for over a decade, this was incredibly easy. He could remember at least hundreds or even thousands of songs. With the right trigger, he could think of even more.

He was writing furiously when his phone vibrated twice.

Picking up his phone, he saw a text message from Wang Jinglu. Opening it, sure enough, it was blank.

Li Qian put down his pen, thinking of that extremely delicate face, and his mood suddenly became complex.

...

In the living room, as soon as Li Qian said he was going out for a walk and opened the door, Li Qian's father proudly nudged Li Qian's mother, "I just saved my son! Otherwise, he would have embarrassed himself and might have caused a rift!"

Li Qian's mother, busy with the TV show, glanced at him. She hadn't heard what he said but saw his excited look and pushed him away, "Stop it, I'm watching TV. What if our son comes back in the middle of the night? Do you want to lose face?"

Li Qian's father's face instantly showed a constipated expression.

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