Li Ye couldn’t resist Zhong Ziyan’s insistence and was practically dragged to the underground parking garage. He barely managed to shield the sheet music she had just given him with one hand while clutching his lifeblood—a cup of Star○ucks—in the other.
As they stepped out of the elevator, Li Ye raised an eyebrow. "You changed cars."
The first time, it was a Cadillac. The second, a Rolls-Royce. Now, a Bentley.
Zhong Ziyan thought for a moment. "Borrowed."
Then it suddenly dawned on her—no wonder she felt like something was missing.
She had transportation covered by land, sea, and air—planes and yachts were already in her possession. The only thing she lacked was the most common mode of transport for ordinary people: a car!
Come to think of it, if she bought one, where would she park it? In Wei Hanyun’s garage?
Li Ye didn’t wait for the driver to open the door. He casually slid into the passenger seat, leaving the door open as he watched the driver take the stack of albums from Zhong Ziyan’s hands and pack them into a red suitcase pulled from the backseat.
Li Ye recognized it as a limited-edition Rime○a suitcase worth nearly thirty grand. "..." This gift packaging was way too high-end and hardcore.
The driver, well-trained, swiftly packed the suitcase and stashed it in the trunk before restarting the car.
Li Ye rattled off an address, then turned to Zhong Ziyan. "The old man’s got a temper like a firecracker. Try not to argue with him."
Zhong Ziyan pondered for a moment. "I’m not worried about that."
She figured Li Ye was the one more likely to pick a fight.
...
An hour later, Zhong Ziyan stood at the entrance of an ordinary residential complex, watching Li Ye and a wiry old man go at it through the security door, hurling insults with enough spit to drown a small village. She sighed inwardly.
She hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet them. The moment the old man opened the door and saw Li Ye’s face, he exploded like a lit firecracker, promptly igniting Li Ye’s temper in return.
Fortunately, the neighbors seemed accustomed to such commotion. Even after ten minutes of shouting, no one peeked out to see what was happening.
"Writing songs for the entertainment industry?! What kind of garbage ambition is that?! Wasting your damn musical talent!"
"I’m taking the scenic route, old man! The scenic route, got it?! You can’t promote classical music to young people the same old way anymore! Even Teng○er’s singing love songs on B○ilibili now!!"
"Disgrace!"
"Fossil!"
"Brat!"
"Old fart!"
Zhong Ziyan: "..."
Back in her old squad, monkey fights were common too.
But they were all broke back then—terrified of damaging equipment and wasting hard-earned points on healing injuries—so they fought carefully.
If things got out of hand, Zhong Ziyan would just knock some sense into both parties, and they’d calm down enough to talk.
But mediating arguments? Not her forte.
Just as she was contemplating how to stop these two from out-shouting each other, a loud BANG echoed from inside the apartment.
Zhong Ziyan: "..."
Li Ye: "..."
The old man let out a dramatic, pained howl. "Old woman, why the hell are you hitting me?!"
"You’re disturbing the neighbors," a stern elderly woman retorted, brandishing a rolling pin. "Open the door, or I’ll whack your head again."
Grumbling under his breath, the old man reluctantly unlocked the security door under the rolling pin’s threat, clutching his head like a sulking child.
Li Ye flicked his bangs—perpetually covering half his face—and strode in triumphantly, flashing a grin at the gray-haired woman. "Teacher Qian, long time no see."
Teacher Qian wasn’t swayed by his charm. "You only show up when you want something. And it’s never good news."
Her sharp gaze then landed on Zhong Ziyan, who had followed Li Ye inside. Instantly, her eyes lit up like high beams, locking onto her with a delighted smile. "Well, well! Li Ye’s actually done something impressive—bringing home a girlfriend! And such a pretty one too! Must be blind to settle for a guy with that hairstyle!"
Li Ye—perpetually hiding behind his bangs: "..."
Zhong Ziyan: "..." She quickly clarified, "Teacher Qian, that’s a misunderstanding. I’m actually married."
All three pairs of eyes in the room dropped to her hands.
Zhong Ziyan: "The ring’s still being made, but the certificate’s official."
It was the truth, but Teacher Qian still eyed Li Ye skeptically before turning back to Zhong Ziyan with a warm smile. "You’re absolutely stunning, dear! Even prettier than those actresses on TV!"
"My name’s Zhong Ziyan," she introduced herself politely, letting the old woman loop an arm around hers and lead her to the living room.
Li Ye seized the moment to fish for a cigarette, only to realize he’d left his pack back at the studio. All he had was the sheet music and his coffee. "..."
He turned to the old man. "Old fart, spare a smoke."
The old man, momentarily subdued, erupted again and smacked Li Ye upside the head. "No respect for your elders!"
Li Ye nearly face-planted from the force. "Damn it, if I crack my skull open, you’re paying my hospital bills!"
The old man ignored him, pulling out a Liqun cigarette and lighting it with relish. He took a deep drag before blowing the smoke directly into Li Ye’s face.
Li Ye: "..." His fists clenched.
"Who’s that girl?" the old man asked between puffs. "Too pretty to be real. I’ve been to film schools for years—never seen one like her. Where’d you meet her? Watch out, or she’ll scam you into ruin."
Li Ye looked offended. "Can you ever think positively of me?"
The old man snorted. "I know you, kid. Bringing her here means she wants something from me or the old lady, and you want something from her."
"Not that!" Li Ye spat. He dug into his pocket and slapped the sheet music Zhong Ziyan had just written against the old man’s chest. "Read it."
"Not wasting my time on your trash!" The old man turned his head away.
"For fuck’s sake—it’s not mine! Zhong Ziyan wrote it, happy?!"
The old man scoffed around his cigarette. "Some young girl with no life experience? What could she possibly compose?"
"Mozart’s rolling in his grave hearing you," Li Ye shot back. Deprived of nicotine, his throat itched. He stalked toward the living room, raising his voice. "Teacher Qian! Teacher Yang’s sneaking cigarettes again—"
"Cough—cough! You little weasel!" The old man frantically stubbed out his cigarette and shoved it into an ashtray, yelling after him, "Half a stick! Just half a stick to take the edge off!!"
In his haste, the sheet music Li Ye had forced on him slipped to the floor.
Cursing under his breath, the old man bent to pick it up.
One glance later, he stayed crouched for twenty minutes.
Zhong Ziyan, meanwhile, sipped roasted bean tea in the living room, making small talk with Teacher Qian. Before she could state her business, a loud thud came from the doorway, followed by the old man’s booming voice: "Goddammit, that hurt!"
When the three went to check, Zhong Ziyan took the lead while Li Ye and Teacher Qian seemed content to watch the old man flounder.
Unable to ignore his plight, Zhong Ziyan reached down to help the disoriented Teacher Yang to his feet.
Li Ye found the movement somewhat familiar—it resembled the way Zhong Ziyan had effortlessly yanked him out of his ergonomic chair earlier, as if she possessed Herculean strength. Wait a minute… where did Zhong Ziyan, with her pale, slender arms, get such monstrous power?
“No harm done!” The little old man patted his backside, his eyes glued to Zhong Ziyan’s face. He cleared his throat and asked, “Did you write this?”
Zhong Ziyan glanced down. “A crude attempt. Pardon its flaws.”
“Crude… well, yes, it is crude.” The old man struggled to keep a straight face but failed, clasping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly. “But you’re teachable. There’s talent here. I think I’ll take you on as my student.”
Before Zhong Ziyan could respond, Li Ye cut in with a scoff. “Just admit you’re itching to take her as your disciple. What’s with the tsundere act at your age? Not cute at all.”
The old man whirled on him, bending over to snatch up a slipper with one foot raised. “You little brat, how dare you!”
Li Ye didn’t even flinch, firing back, “Look at you. Is this how a proper teacher behaves? What pretty young lady would ever want to be your student?”
The old man froze mid-motion, his hopeful gaze shifting awkwardly to Zhong Ziyan.
At this point, Zhong Ziyan had no choice but to be blunt. “I asked Li Ye to bring me here because I wanted to buy Schubert’s manuscript from Teacher Yang—as a gift.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed. “Easy! Just become my student, and I’ll give you the original Schubert manuscript as a welcome gift!”
Zhong Ziyan met his gaze earnestly. “I’d rather pay extra.”
Teacher Yang: “…!! Low—” He choked back the word “philistine,” forcing it into a different syllable mid-sentence, “…ball! You think you can afford it? The one donated to the British Museum last year went for £450,000!”
Zhong Ziyan replied without hesitation, “No problem.”
The old man’s chest heaved violently, breathless with disbelief. “…”
For the first time since entering the room, Li Ye actually felt a pang of sympathy for the old man.
