Mm… don't push it in too far, I'll gag.
All right, I'll adjust—how about this?
Mm, that's much better…
Their murmurs drifted through the half-open piano-room door and drifted straight into Li Mei's ears as she walked down the corridor.
The intimacy in those words made Li Mei's face explode crimson.
No way, no way…
Was she thinking what she thought she was thinking?
Most students had already gone home for the holiday; only a handful were still practising.
University students looking for a round of pubg.
Maybe… it really was what she suspected.
The thought spurred Li Mei to quicken her steps and follow the sound.
Getting this wild in the piano room first thing in the morning?
She tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside.
All she saw was Jiang Cheng spooning tremella soup into Zhou Ying's mouth.
An empty half of a thermal bowl sat on the table—nothing "wild" in sight.
While she stared, Zhou Ying happened to look up, startled, and rose awkwardly.
"Good morning, Professor Li."
Flustered, Li Mei covered herself with authority: "Zhou Ying, the emotional shading in your Ballade is still too shallow. Practise it another twenty times; I'll come check shortly."
The sweet one-bite-for-you rhythm broken, Jiang Cheng turned to look.
In the doorway stood a middle-aged woman with her hair in a top-knot, a tight black knit turtleneck hugging her torso and a perfectly cut long pleated skirt.
Every inch of her was immaculate, making the sternness on her face even more pronounced.
For a second Jiang Cheng felt as if he and Zhou Ying were back in high-school, caught dating by the class adviser.
Honestly, it had been years since he'd tasted that sensation.
So, people really should date more often—it keeps the heart young.
"This student isn't from our department, is he?"
At that, Zhou Ying's fingers tightened round the spoon, the tips of her ears glowing pink.
She looked so adorably busted that Jiang Cheng couldn't help curling a smile.
He stepped forward. "Good morning, Professor Li. I'm Zhou Ying's boyfriend—Jiang Cheng."
When Jiang Cheng stood and inclined his head politely, Li Mei instinctively sized him up.
Her gaze swept the watch on his wrist—today a Richard Mille.
Yet she didn't dismiss it as some no-name brand the way younger people might.
Back in her day she had competed abroad often enough to know luxury at a glance.
Her eyes slid to the crisp LV shirt collar.
The cuffs were casually rolled to mid-forearm, revealing clean wrist bones without a hint of sloppiness.
More importantly, Jiang Cheng met her stare without flinching.
Professor Li was notoriously strict; most students grew uneasy under her gaze.
But Jiang Cheng's eyes were clear, not sharp, a faint half-smile playing at his lips.
Neither fawning nor arrogantly youthful—he carried the calm confidence of someone raised in poise.
Even his posture radiated an unshakable, almost aristocratic ease.
"Jiang Cheng, then." Professor Li's voice was cool, her fingers absently tracing the wood grain of the doorframe.
In truth she hadn't planned to enter the studio; she'd merely spotted an unfamiliar rolls-royce cullinan parked outside.
"When I came in just now I saw a Cullinan by the side of the building—plate starting with Hu A-ZC. That would be yours?"
At that, Zhou Ying glanced at Jiang Cheng.
She remembered that at the last auto show Jiang Cheng had registered his new Ferrari under Hu-AJC, so the SUV had to be his.
"You bought another car?"
Jiang Cheng didn't hide it, nodding openly. "I figured you still have luggage later, so I picked one up."
In fact he'd needed room for the twin sisters, but he could hardly say that.
Hearing this, Zhou Ying's eyes sparkled; if Professor Li hadn't been there she'd have flung herself into his arms.
Watching her smitten look, Li Mei sighed inwardly.
Her own expression turned more complicated.
In her youth she had been one of the conservatory's top pianists.
She too had lived through the passions of that age.
Over the years she had watched too many gifted seedlings tripped up by worldly glitter.
Zhou Ying's musicality and fingertip genius were the raw jade she valued most in recent years.
She feared romance might derail her.
Yet what could she do? University students were free to date.
She'd meant to deliver a sermon on not being dazzled by luxury.
But saying it now would be pointless.
Zhou Ying's slip—"another car"—meant Jiang Cheng owned more than one.
A Second-generation rich with that kind of wealth wouldn't be swayed by a few cautionary words.
After a brief silence Li Mei merely pointed at the bowl in Zhou Ying's hand. "Finish the tremella soup while it's hot. In twenty minutes I'll listen to your Ballade."
Zhou Ying glanced at Jiang Cheng.
Before Li Mei could finish, she took half a step forward.
Back straight, eyes bright as starlight, she showed no coyness.
Hands clasped before her, fingertips lightly touching, she spoke clearly: "Professor Li, I've noted the extra practice. But I've already asked for leave—I have to catch a flight right after this. I can video-call you tonight to show I've practised, or send a recording earlier if you prefer. Absolutely no delays."
She tilted her head slightly, a faint smile curving her lips.
That was one of her strengths—she always stated her needs openly.
Even refusal sounded upright, neither self-effacing nor aggressive.
She didn't wrong herself, yet spared others awkwardness.
Jiang Cheng had seen her do it before.
Clearly Fang Yuan had raised her well.
A child from an average family might have agonised over saying no, or lacked the confidence to suggest a video check-in.
Zhou Ying was different: though she knew refusal might irk her professor, she still declined—gracefully.
Her tone was neither humble nor forceful, more like consulting a familiar elder about something trivial.
A woman like her belonged in higher circles; she carried no ingratiating air of the bottom rung, only a drive to keep bettering herself.
Looking at her candour, Li Mei swallowed the words "think again."
Beauty, sometimes, is a powerful tool.
Especially Zhou Ying's—pretty, knowing exactly how to coax, her expressions never crossing into cloying.
Such women usually achieve twice the result with half the effort.
Tapping her lesson plan, Li Mei let her sternness soften.
With reluctant amusement she relented: "Adjusting the schedule is fine, but don't practise too late. Send me your new timetable; I'll monitor your check-ins."
Zhou Ying beamed.
Eyes curving, voice lighter: "Thank you, Professor Li! I promise to finish by ten, no late nights. Don't worry—I'll be good."