Chapter 19: Putting Newfound Knowledge to Use

Seeing that Jiang Zheng showed little reaction, Cheng Yingdong assumed Jiang Zheng found the offer of one thousand yuan too little. Indeed, a thousand yuan wasn’t much—he’d previously hired someone for over ten thousand. Of course, the two were incomparable: one was a renowned pianist, while Jiang Zheng was nothing more than an obscure university student. Cheng Yingdong believed he could play, but how well, really? Given this, he felt a thousand yuan was a fair price.

Jiang Zheng spoke up, “Manager, could you give me a quiet place? I need to get myself in the right state of mind.” Cheng Yingdong didn’t find this unusual; it was standard for musicians to prepare themselves before a performance. “In that case, just stay here in my office. No one will come in. Take your time. I’ll fetch you when it’s time to play.” Jiang Zheng agreed. It didn’t matter to him where he was, as long as it was quiet enough to study.

Cheng Yingdong left with the staff member, leaving Jiang Zheng alone in the office. As soon as they were gone, Jiang Zheng eagerly took out his phone and began searching online. The internet was convenient, filled with information, but it was also a maze of truth and falsehood; to learn from it required sharp discernment. Jiang Zheng wasn’t fond of online learning, but at the moment, it was his only option.

He searched for the basics of music theory, deciding to master the fundamentals before attempting to read sheet music. Without understanding the basics, there was no way to comprehend a score. Strangely, these music theory concepts felt oddly familiar to him. After just one reading, Jiang Zheng found he understood them as if he’d known them all along. Next, he looked at some musical scores and found he could make sense of them too.

Jiang Zheng studied feverishly, absorbing music theory as quickly as he could. He was selective, focusing only on what he needed for a competent performance; anything too advanced, he ignored. Time raced by, and before he knew it, it was time to perform.

A staff member came to fetch him. Jiang Zheng put away his phone and followed. Halfway there, he ran into Cheng Yingdong, who had been waiting for him deliberately. Of all the steps in the process, Jiang Zheng was the weak link—Cheng needed to keep an eye on him.

Suddenly, Cheng Yingdong frowned slightly. “Jiang, are you going to perform in that outfit?” he asked. Jiang Zheng glanced down and realized he was still wearing his security uniform.

It was certainly inappropriate to perform dressed like that. “Manager, give me a moment,” Jiang Zheng said. He immediately began undressing right there. “Jiang, be mindful—this is a public area,” Cheng Yingdong scolded. “It’s fine, I’ve got my own clothes underneath,” Jiang Zheng replied, proceeding to take off the uniform. Seeing that Jiang Zheng was wearing casual clothes—a short-sleeved shirt and long athletic pants—Cheng Yingdong said nothing more. It wasn’t exactly stage-appropriate, but it was better than the uniform. Since Jiang Zheng was a last-minute substitute, Cheng Yingdong couldn’t be too picky. As long as he wasn’t dressed bizarrely, it was acceptable.

He led Jiang Zheng into the banquet hall, pointing toward the piano. “Go ahead, you can start now.” Jiang Zheng hesitated. “Manager, what piece should I play?” Cheng Yingdong gave him a strange look. “That’s for you to decide—why ask me?” With that, Jiang Zheng had no choice but to head in and do his best. He was still unsure if he could complete the system’s task, but he had to try; he was loathe to lose a reward for nothing.

Jiang Zheng sat down at the piano and ran his fingers over the keys, a wave of familiarity washing over him. It was as though he’d sat here countless times, letting the black and white keys bring forth myriad melodies. He knew this was the effect of the system’s skill.

He took a deep breath and glanced around. No one seemed to be paying him much attention. People were scattered in small groups, chatting and laughing. At the head table, he noticed a girl pouting, clearly unhappy about something.

Since no one was watching, Jiang Zheng took out his phone. Most pianists placed sheet music on the stand—paper scores lent a sense of gravitas—but as an outsider, Jiang Zheng had none. The phone would have to suffice; the result was the same, even if it looked less refined.

He didn’t care much about appearances anyway; his only goal was to complete the system task. Style could wait. He scrolled through a sea of piano pieces. There were countless classics, but not every piece suited the occasion. This was a teacher appreciation banquet—not the time for solemn or sorrowful music. Something gentle and lively would be best.

Guided by online recommendations, Jiang Zheng quickly settled on a piece. Meanwhile, outside, Cheng Yingdong grew anxious, not knowing why Jiang Zheng was sitting there on his phone. He had no idea Jiang Zheng was searching for music, nor could he have imagined that this supposed pianist was, in fact, a complete novice. All he could do was wait, deciding to deal with Jiang Zheng later.

Inside the hall, few people noticed Jiang Zheng. Even if they saw him on his phone, they soon looked away. Jiang Zheng found a score, set his phone on the piano, took a deep breath, and pressed the first key.

As his fingers danced across the keys, beautiful notes began to fill the air. Gradually, the noisy banquet hall quieted. One after another, conversations faded as everyone became absorbed in the music.

By the entrance, Cheng Yingdong was stunned, gazing at Jiang Zheng in disbelief.

As Jiang Zheng played, fragments of a classic anime flashed through his mind. The piece was from “Castle in the Sky,” titled “Clouds Under the Moonlight.” Many had heard this tune before—its gentle melody evoked memories of summer afternoons.

Immersed in the piece, Jiang Zheng felt as though he was alone in another world, oblivious to everything around him. Although it was his first time performing the piece, he played as if he’d practiced it countless times, his technique astonishingly refined.

Many in the audience were connoisseurs of music, well acquainted with piano pieces. A truly skilled performer could quiet an entire room—and that was exactly what Jiang Zheng achieved.