Chapter 026: A Life of Art

There was a music class in the afternoon. This always lifted the spirits of many students, who could hardly wait to rush to the music room. The curriculum for first-year high school was tightly packed; classes ran from Monday to Friday, with four periods in the morning, three in the afternoon, and three more during evening self-study. Weekends were reserved for make-up classes, and students only had one weekend break per month. In essence, school life was nothing but endless lessons with scant time for rest.

Students had no choice but to find joy amid hardship, and so they looked forward to certain classes with heightened anticipation. Two physical education classes, one computer class, one art class, and one music class—these were the week’s most beloved lessons.

The music teacher was Zhu Yunfei, his name carrying a sense of grandeur, reminiscent of Bai Yunfei from “The Crane Needle.” It’s worth mentioning that “The Crane Needle” was the final work of Wolong Sheng, a master of martial arts fiction. In an era when the likes of Jin Yong, Gu Long, Huang Liang, and Wen Ruian no longer published, “The Crane Needle” stood as the highest peak of the genre. It had been adapted many times for film and television, notably in 1993, when director Chan Muk-shing, with Tony Leung, Anita Mui, and Rosamund Kwan starring, made “New Crane Needle,” which swept the country in popularity.

The music room was a single-story building near the front of the teaching block, close to the bicycle shed. Here, Zhang Tan’s most vivid memory was of one music class in his previous life: Zhu Yunfei had spotted someone stealing bikes at the shed and, with a commanding shout, sent the entire class of boys out to confront the thief. The thief, seeing the masses charging toward him, abandoned the bike and bolted.

The students gave chase, Zhang Tan among them, pursuing the thief for two or three miles until finally pinning him down by the roadside. The thief’s misfortune was well-deserved; though most students struggled to run even a single lap around the 200-meter track, they unleashed surprising energy when chasing the thief, as if fueled by an endless supply of stamina.

That day, the principal personally visited Class Five to commend the students for their courage.

Years had passed, and Zhang Tan remembered little else about Zhu Yunfei, except that after graduation, at a class reunion, he heard that Zhu had gotten a female student pregnant, which led to his dismissal. Later, pressured by the girl’s parents, he married her.

It was hard to imagine that the short, gentle, scholarly Zhu Yunfei could have done such a thing.

But all that was beside the point for Zhang Tan.

At present, Zhu Yunfei was leading the class in singing “Evening in the Suburbs of Moscow.”

He sat before the blackboard, playing the accordion. “I’ll play once, sing once, and then you all follow the rhythm and finish the song.”

The accordion’s melody filled the classroom, accompanied by Zhu Yunfei’s voice, which, though not melodious, kept perfect tune.

“In the garden at night, all is quiet,”

“Even the leaves no longer rustle,”

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“How beautiful the night is,”

“It stirs the soul,”

“What a tranquil evening,”

“The little river flows quietly, rippling gently,”

“The water glimmers beneath the silvery moon,”

“….”

“The long night is passing, dawn is breaking,”

“Sincere wishes for you, lovely girl.”

This was a classic Soviet song. Back then, the Soviet Union was China’s elder brother, exerting a profound influence; many films and songs from that era were introduced to China. Among these, the most iconic were “Katyusha” and “Evening in the Suburbs of Moscow,” which remain widely sung to this day.

Zhang Tan was no expert in music theory, but he loved singing—not just pop songs, but folk songs as well. He was particularly adept at “Evening in the Suburbs of Moscow,” even able to sing it in Russian, though his pronunciation was far from perfect, since he had learned it by transliterating the Russian lyrics phonetically.

While others sang the Chinese version, he softly hummed the Russian one, finding it amusing.

For many foreign songs, Zhang Tan learned to sing them this way.

Music class with Zhu Yunfei was simple; he didn’t teach solfège or scales, just led the students in singing. In fact, he was the only music teacher at the school, responsible for seven music classes across seven first-year classes. As for second- and third-year students, unfortunately, there were no music classes at all.

Apart from these seven classes, Zhu Yunfei had a side job; he ran a music tutoring center in Shuangdun Town. Additionally, there were four or five students at school aspiring to specialize in music, for whom he provided instruction.

After thirty minutes of singing, the rest of the period was devoted to self-study.

Zhu Yunfei left the classroom to wash his hands outside.

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Zhang Tan took the opportunity to follow him out. “Mr. Zhu,”

“Is something the matter?”

“I wanted to ask if you teach students privately. I’d like to learn some music theory, like reading scores and playing guitar.”

Zhang Tan loved novels and music, but stuck at Shuangdun Middle School, he had nowhere to truly absorb musical knowledge. Self-study through books alone was insufficient. He didn’t want to drop out outright; though he disliked academic study, he still held some hope of getting into university.

Having attended a technical college in his previous life, he wanted to remedy that regret by entering university this time, to broaden his horizons.

“You want to study music? That’s fine. I run a music class during evening self-study hours. If you’re interested, you can sign up,” Zhu Yunfei nodded.

“Will the teachers allow skipping evening self-study?”

“They will. It’s arranged by the school, as part of the artistic curriculum for nurturing students. Besides, for first-years, it’s just about sparking interest; only one evening self-study session per week is taken, so it won’t affect your schedule much.”

“Then, could I get individual lessons?” Zhang Tan had no desire to specialize as an art student. “I mean, I don’t want to learn with the others. I just hope you can teach me to read music, understand pitch and rhythm, so I can comprehend scores and even compose my own. And I’d like to learn guitar. That’s all I want—could you teach me?”

Zhu Yunfei frowned. “I could teach you, but individual instruction isn’t the usual practice.”

Zhang Tan smiled. “I can pay you, like hiring a tutor. Just teach me when you have time.”

In the countryside, “tutor” was a lofty term, but extra lessons were commonplace. Zhu Yunfei taught at Shuangdun Middle School and ran a music studio in town, so he didn’t mind taking on Zhang Tan as a tutoring student. He could spare two or three lunch breaks each week to teach Zhang Tan music theory and guitar.

The fee wasn’t hourly, but a flat rate: one hundred yuan per month, for three sessions a week.

It worked out to eight or nine yuan per hour.

Compared to city tutoring rates, it was affordable, but for a rural high school student, it wasn’t cheap. Fortunately, Zhang Tan could manage the price.

…

After reaching an agreement with Zhu Yunfei, Zhang Tan also had him buy a guitar, spending over two hundred yuan. Thus, alongside writing novels, he now had a new pursuit: studying music.

He felt himself growing ever more artistic.

“The carefree life of an artist!”