"What's wrong? Is there something on my face, Grandpa Tang?" Tang Xiaoyun asked, utterly bewildered by Mengmeng's peculiar gaze.
Zhang Haichen, standing nearby, quickly stepped in to smooth things over. He smiled and explained, "Mengmeng means, sir, that your English pronunciation is just like mine—not standard enough, not authentic enough."
Instead of being offended, Tang Xiaoyun burst into hearty laughter. "Hahaha, so that's it! Mengmeng, you're really amazing, speaking English so well. I wonder which brilliant teacher taught you?" He genuinely liked the innocent and lovable child.
Most of his life had passed, and his three sons had all failed to live up to his expectations, none of them giving him a grandchild yet.
When Mengmeng heard Tang Xiaoyun's question, she immediately turned to Jiang Ning, her face beaming with pride. "My dad taught me! How about that? My dad is the best dad in the whole world!"
"Oh, Master Jiang, your English is actually this good?" Tang Xiaoyun couldn't help but express his astonishment.
The fact that Jiang Ning could teach Mengmeng to speak such fluent, native-like English left Tang Xiaoyun in no doubt that his English speaking skills were exceptionally high.
After all, given Jiang Ning's demonstrated abilities—at such a young age, he had already reached master-level in both cooking and calligraphy, and now he could also teach Mengmeng to speak English fluently—his English proficiency must be extraordinary.
"Ahem," Jiang Ning coughed lightly, looking slightly embarrassed. "I only know a little."
Hearing Jiang Ning say "I only know a little," Zhang Haichen couldn't help but recall that he had also described his erhu skills as "only knowing a little."
If he was this skilled in English and still so modest, could his erhu skills be equally hidden and profound? Could he be a hidden master as well? "Master Jiang, you play the erhu too?" Zhang Haichen couldn't resist interjecting.
In truth, he had become intensely curious about Jiang Ning's "only knowing a little" erhu skills and was eager to discover the true extent of his erhu mastery.
"Oh, really?" A spark of delight flashed in Tang Xiaoyun's eyes. He sincerely implored, "Master Jiang, would you honor us with a performance? Let us feast our ears on your music!"
Seeing the anticipation in Tang Xiaoyun's eyes, Jiang Ning nodded in agreement. "Alright, I'll give it a try and humble myself."
Jiang Ning accepted the *erhu* handed to him by Tang Xiaoyun and examined it closely. A glint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he exclaimed, "Old Master Tang, this *erhu* is truly remarkable!"
A proud smile spread across Tang Xiaoyun's face as he eagerly recounted the instrument's history. "Haha! Master Jiang, you have a keen eye! This *erhu* indeed has a distinguished lineage.
I acquired it at auction for over three million yuan. It's a treasured heirloom of the Hong Family of Kyoto.
Legend has it that the Hong Family's ancestors were renowned luthiers who specialized in crafting *erhus*. When the family's fortunes declined, their descendants were forced to put it up for auction."
Jiang Ning examined the rustic yet exquisitely crafted *erhu* again. The character "洪" was clearly engraved at the top of the neck. He couldn't help but marvel, "So that's how you obtained it. It truly is a rare and exceptional instrument."
"Alright, I'll try playing 'Racing Horses' on it," Jiang Ning said, his fingers itching to touch the strings.
After all, such a precious *erhu* was irresistible to him.
He had wanted to find a suitable *erhu* at a music shop several times, but had never managed to follow through.
Having stumbled upon such a fine erhu by chance today, Jiang Ning was naturally eager to test its tonal quality.
Holding the erhu, he slowly closed his eyes. His fingertips gently rested on the strings, as if engaging in a silent dialogue with the instrument, which had been seasoned by the passage of time.
The next moment, the bow and strings met perfectly. The first note of "Racing Horses" shot forth like an arrow released from its string—crisp and exhilarating.
In an instant, Tang Xiaoyun, Zhang Haichen, and Mengmeng felt the scene before them transform abruptly.
They seemed to find themselves on a vast, boundless grassland. The biting wind howled past their ears, and the air was filled with the fragrance of grass and the fresh scent of earth.
In Tang Xiaoyun's eyes, a group of formidable riders drove their steeds forward like a black torrent, surging from the distant horizon.
The hoofbeats struck his heart like a relentless drumbeat, each impact accelerating his pulse involuntarily.
The lead rider, agile and majestic as an eagle of the plains, whipped his long whip through the air with wild abandon. His bold shouts seemed to pierce the heavens, scattering the clouds on the horizon.
The manes of the galloping horses flew wildly in the wind like flames, their eyes blazing with wild, fiery light. Their hooves pounded the earth, kicking up clods of grass that scattered in all directions.
Tang Xiaoyun could feel the ground trembling violently beneath the horses' hooves, his blood igniting with the same fiery passion. A flush of excitement rose to his cheeks, as if he were traveling through time, back to those youthful days brimming with passion and fervor.
Zhang Haichen felt as if he were truly riding a swift, galloping horse. The wind roared into his collar, making his clothes snap and billow. He gripped the reins tightly, his body naturally rising and falling in rhythm with the horse's stride, becoming one with the creature.
The horses ran side-by-side, each vying for position, neither yielding to the other as they strained to gain the lead. He saw the riders ahead engaged in a fierce speed contest, sometimes crouching low over their mounts to reduce wind resistance, other times cracking their whips against their horses' flanks to spur them onward.
The tense, exhilarating atmosphere of the race caused fine beads of sweat to form on Zhang Haichen's brow. He instinctively tightened his grip on the armrests of the seat, as if this would give him an advantage in the real race and secure him the lead.
Mengmeng's eyes were filled with wonder and delight, like the twinkling stars in the night sky.
She saw the grassland ablaze with a riot of colorful flowers, like a vibrant ocean swaying gently in the breeze.
The swift horses galloped past like lightning, stirring up a fragrant breeze that made the flowers dance in their wake, cheering on the thrilling race.
At the front of the herd, a few lambs as white as snow grazed peacefully, their heads snapping up in startled curiosity at the sudden commotion.
Mengmeng couldn't help but giggle. She excitedly stretched out her little hands, wanting to touch the adorable lambs and chase the thunderous horses.
Her feet bounced restlessly on the ground, and she felt as if she were galloping across the grassland with the herd. As Jiang Ning's bow rapidly moved back and forth across the erhu, the music gradually built to a crescendo.
The notes grew increasingly urgent, like ten thousand horses neighing in unison or a thousand armies charging into battle—a majestic and unstoppable force. After three minutes, the erhu's sound abruptly ceased, but the lingering resonance continued to echo through the air.
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(End of Chapter)