The little old man took a long time to catch his breath, then pointed at Zhong Ziyan with a pained expression. "Do you even realize what you just turned down?!"
Zhong Ziyan: "...Sorry, I never had formal music training. I might not be the right fit."
She didn’t know the correct answer, but the atmosphere seemed to demand an apology first.
The old man looked even more flustered. "You never studied?! And yet you created an entirely new musical system on your own?! It’s like… like inventing a whole new language outside all existing ones in the world, you know?!"
Well, of course. This world didn’t have elves. Zhong Ziyan thought to herself.
Li Ye lounged nearby, fanning the flames with amusement. "Ah, so that’s why you tried to snatch her as your student—just to get a bargain."
The old man shot Li Ye a glare so fierce it seemed he was seconds away from hurling a slipper at his face. He took a deep breath, visibly restraining himself.
"If there were other options, I wouldn’t be asking for your generosity," Zhong Ziyan cut in, stopping Li Ye’s teasing before he actually got hit. "Price isn’t an issue. I can double the forty-five thousand pounds."
"Do I look like someone who needs money?!" the old man roared.
Zhong Ziyan thought for a moment, then tentatively offered, "...Should I double it again?"
Ah, beating him up wasn’t an option.
The old man looked like he might faint from rage any second, while Li Ye muffled his laughter behind his hand and gave Zhong Ziyan a thumbs-up.
Zhong Ziyan: "..."
Finally, the composed elderly lady stepped in to mediate. "Ziyan, if you’re free for lunch, why not stay? We can discuss the manuscript over the meal."
Seeing the olive branch extended, the old man snorted loudly, turned on his heel, and stomped away with an air of indignation.
Li Ye laughed for a moment before suddenly realizing something was off. He sprinted after the old man. "Hey, you old coot! That’s the piece Zhong Ziyan composed as my payment!"
The old man bellowed back, "I’m just looking! I’ll give it back!"
"Bullshit! You’ll memorize it after one glance!"
"So what? Can’t you do the same?!"
"Shameless old man!"
"Worthless brat!"
Standing calmly in place, the elderly lady smiled at Zhong Ziyan. "Come keep me company for a while?"
Zhong Ziyan understood the family dynamics now.
—The elderly lady was the undisputed, iron-fisted head of the household.
To secure the manuscript without selling herself into apprenticeship, Zhong Ziyan obediently nodded and followed her into the kitchen, helping out where she could.
At first, the lady tried to refuse, but after seeing Zhong Ziyan’s deft movements, she relented and shifted the conversation to music.
Zhong Ziyan hadn’t lied—she’d never received formal music training. If it were combat training, she could’ve lectured for hours.
Her musical ability was purely an elven racial trait. She could use it instinctively, but explaining the theory behind her compositions was another matter. She didn’t take pride in it.
Unlike the old man, the lady didn’t press her. By the time their gentle conversation ended, the meal was ready.
As Zhong Ziyan effortlessly carried out a large pot of ox bone soup, she heard piano music drifting from somewhere inside the house.
It was the piece she’d improvised while Li Ye was signing autographs earlier. Of course, she recognized it.
The elderly lady listened for a moment, then chuckled. "No wonder he threw a tantrum to take you as his student. Your talent is extraordinary—full of soul—but it’s missing something. He can’t stand seeing you stop just one step short of perfection."
"You flatter me," Zhong Ziyan said, setting the pot down and taking a plate from the lady.
Since her musical gift was just a racial bonus, not something innate or earned, she didn’t feel particularly proud of it.
"If money isn’t an issue for you, perhaps you don’t value this talent as much as we old folks do," the lady remarked, wiping her hands on her apron. "My husband is just disappointed, that’s all. Don’t take it to heart."
"...I’m not," Zhong Ziyan said awkwardly, scratching her cheek.
She could fight gods and stomp zombies without hesitation, but "good people" were her weakness.
What could you even do with good people? Throw them? Melt them?
Desperate for an escape, she blurted, "I’ll go call Li Ye and Teacher Yang for dinner."
"No need." Teacher Qian smiled, then unleashed a piercing shout: "DINNER’S READY—!"
Zhong Ziyan stood frozen, feeling the sound drill straight through her skull.
Dazedly, she thought: No wonder they’re married.
The ethereal piano music, like sunlight filtering through a fairy-tale forest, cut off abruptly. Soon after, two figures appeared in the living room.
At the table, Teacher Qian effortlessly steered the conversation. Zhong Ziyan learned that the lady had once been a master of traditional Chinese music.
"Oh, you mentioned the manuscript is a gift?" Teacher Qian asked kindly. "Such a precious present must be for someone important?"
Zhong Ziyan nodded. "It’s for a musician—a senior I’m visiting for the first time. I thought a musical score would be fitting."
"I see," the lady said. "The groom’s side of the family, then? First impressions do matter."
The old man’s eyes bulged. He yanked his chopsticks from his mouth, about to interject—
"OW—!"
Zhong Ziyan: "..." That kick under the table sounded brutal.
"The manuscript is authentic, but honestly, it’s just collecting dust here," Teacher Qian continued, unperturbed. "No need to overpay. Consider it a housewarming gift for your visit today."
Zhong Ziyan: "..." Boss, help! I can’t even spend money properly!
She quickly dialed Fang Nan in her pocket, hanging up as soon as the call connected.
Li Ye teased, "Teacher Qian is truly generous."
Teacher Qian smiled. "A few tens of thousands of pounds? That’s not even enough for an apartment in H City."
Sure enough, Fang Nan called back seconds later.
Zhong Ziyan cleared her throat and stood. "Excuse me, I need to take this."
She strode away, phone in hand, her tall figure radiating an unshakable aura of authority.
Yet Teacher Qian watched her retreating back and mused, "What a shy girl."
Li Ye: "...Teacher Qian, your eyesight’s failing."
"Eat your food," the lady retorted, rolling her eyes.
......
"...Is Wei Hanyun busy?" Zhong Ziyan demanded the moment she answered the phone.
Fang Nan’s question, “What happened?” got stuck in his throat.
“If you have something urgent, I can relay the message,” he said.
“It’s an emergency—I need Wei Hanyun to help me decide,” Zhong Ziyan lowered her voice, sounding genuinely pressed.
Fang Nan glanced at his phone, then at Wei Hanyun, who wasn’t far away. After hesitating for a moment, he walked over, covering the receiver as he bent down and whispered, “It’s Miss Zhong.”
Wei Hanyun, who was in the middle of a video conference, muted his microphone and reached out for the phone with his other hand.
Fang Nan: “…” Well, he really was going to take Zhong Ziyan’s call in the middle of the meeting.
Fortunately, Wei Hanyun was naturally adept at multitasking, so answering the phone wouldn’t make him miss any important details.
Fang Nan obediently handed the phone over, and Wei Hanyun pressed it to his ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you busy? I’ll keep it short.” Zhong Ziyan quickly summarized the situation and asked for his advice. “She won’t take the money—what should I do? Should I leave a check?”
“A check still requires someone to cash it at the bank,” Wei Hanyun replied, twirling a pen in his hand while scanning the spreadsheet on his screen. “Don’t worry, just accept it graciously.”
Zhong Ziyan panicked. “But then I’ll owe her a favor. Does that mean I’ll have to become her disciple as payment?”
Wei Hanyun paused briefly, then chuckled softly. “No, don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line as Zhong Ziyan mulled it over.
Wei Hanyun waited patiently for her decision.
“Fine, I’ll take it then,” Zhong Ziyan finally relented, choosing to trust him. “But you have to save me if things go wrong.”
Wei Hanyun replied calmly, “Alright, I’ll save you.”
“Then I’ll hang up—don’t let me interrupt your work.” Zhong Ziyan, who had sneaked out to make the call, quickly ended it.
Meanwhile, Wei Hanyun unmuted his microphone and interrupted the presenter. “Go back to the previous slide. Explain why there are two discrepancies in the Asia-Pacific resource integration report for the new energy division.”
Fang Nan took back the phone—still cool from the short call—and slipped it into his pocket before adjusting his glasses and sitting back down.
His mind wandered as he pondered the meaning of the term “contract marriage.”
Midway through his distraction, a message popped up on his computer. Fang Nan looked down and was surprised to see it was from Wei Hanyun’s rarely used work account.
[Keep an eye out for a master-level classical music manuscript.] Wei Hanyun wrote.
Fang Nan: “…” Here we go again—my daily duties as Zhong Ziyan’s handler.
On the other end, Zhong Ziyan hung up the phone, feeling reassured by Wei Hanyun’s promise. She returned to the living room with noticeably lighter steps.
When it came to matters that didn’t involve brute force, Zhong Ziyan believed one Wei Hanyun was worth fifty of her.
By the time she left the elderly couple’s home, Zhong Ziyan was carrying a precious Schubert manuscript.
“I’ll visit again next time,” she said politely as she bid them farewell.
The old man huffed, “Come if you want… but bring your own work next time!”
With that, he slammed the door shut in front of Zhong Ziyan and Li Ye.
Li Ye scratched his ear and shrugged. “At least you got what you wanted.”
Zhong Ziyan studied the framed manuscript thoughtfully. “But I still feel like you set me up.”
Li Ye: “…” He instinctively tightened his grip on the handwritten score he had snatched back from the old man just before leaving. “Don’t make baseless accusations. Got any proof?”
Zhong Ziyan shot him a sidelong glance but didn’t press the issue.
Oh well. At least she had secured a proper gift for her upcoming trip to Yandu.
As for the fact that she hadn’t spent any money and still owed a favor… Wei Hanyun had promised to take care of it.
Zhong Ziyan engaged in some sincere self-reflection: Compared to the boss, my problem-solving skills are still too one-dimensional—I really only know how to throw money at things.
