âHello, Teacher Akkad.â Qi Mu bowed and said politely, his tone warm.
Before he could straighten, the eccentric man heaved a sigh out his nose and said in response, âI still havenât taken you as a student, Angel. Why do you call me teacher already?â
â. . .â
Farrell has passed on this unspeakable name, ah!!!
He was so aghast at the name that he didnât notice the instructors in the room exchange words with Professor Akkad. They left the room and. . . closed the door.
When the old man strode across the room to the desk in front of him, Qi Mu was surprised to watch this world-famous violinist sit directly on the table. Akkad looked up at him and said, âYouâre ăGypsyă just now was alright. Can you manage Tchaikovskyâs ăD Majoră?â
Qi Mu tore his stare away and slowly nodded. âIâve practiced it some. The third movement is still unfamiliar, but the first is doable. . .â
âThen play, the first movement is fine.â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
He started to play. When he reached the third section of the third movement, the music continued smoothly, but Professor Akkad shook his head in disgust and said, âEnough, enough. Your third movement is indeed not good. Letâs advance to the interview section.â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
As if he didnât notice the confused stare at all, Akkad said, âYou know, this is the first time Iâm accepting a student. I cannot guarantee how I will teach you. So I wanted to ask first, Angel, you. . .â
âProfessor. . .â Qi Mu could resist no longer. He raised his hand and said, âYou. . . can you stop calling me âAngelâ? I havenât taken the name. Master Farrell is messing with me. This kind of joke, you donât have to take so seriously.â
Akkad raised an eyebrow but said nothing in response.
In fact, when Farrell recommended a student called âAngel,â Akkad thought it was a cute little girl. When he found out it was a young man, he couldnât help but worry about his friendâs vision.
What kind of child can you praise as an Angel?
When Qi Mu was writing his exam, Akkad had looked in through the back door. When he saw this beautiful young man, even he had to admit the boy was a delicate porcelain doll.
But, this name Angel is a bit. . .
Akkad asked with a smile, âIf not Angel, then what is your name?â
Qi Mu replied, âProfessor Akkad, my name is Qi Mu.â
Akkadâs face wrinkled in difficulty, and he said, âI heard your name seems to mean âSevenâ in Chinese. I will call you Little Seven.â
Little Seven Xiao Qi*: â. . .â
*Literally, Little Seven Little Seven
No longer entangled with this issue, Akkad switched topics, âXiao Qi, I donât have experience in teaching a student. Of course, you can rest assured. I will help you improve. There is no doubt in that.â
Qi Mu had never doubted Akkad, so he replied, âProfessor, I havenât questioned your ability. I am honored to be your student and have your guidance.â
Qi Mu was modest, but it displeased Akkad.
As Farrell had said, this little old man had such a high level of skill with the violin that his temper was strange. He looked Qi Mu up and down, appreciative, then asked, âBut, Xiao Qi, why should I accept you as a student?â
âBecause you want to.â
Qi Mu didnât hesitate, and the words made Akkad swallow his next words. He looked at Qi Mu for a long time, and felt. . .
Am I a child to be convinced like this?
After a while, Akkad asked again, âThen, what do you want to do?â
âOver eighty percent of violin graduates from the Conservatory will go into various orchestras. Most will only be a regular member their entire lives and wonât even climb to deputy chief.â
âTen percent will become soloists. And less than ten percent will not go into classical music at all. I am afraid they donât go into any music-related industry at all.â
After spiting these statistics, Akkad looked at him solemnly. âSo, I want to ask you. Xiao Qi, what do you. . . want to do in the future?â
For most, this was a difficult question to answer. But, after only just asking, Akkadâs eyes widened, and he remained silent for a long time.
Akkad asked no further questions. He looked at this smiling youth with a complex gaze then smiled briefly. He adopted a serious expression and nodded, âTomorrow, report to the college at eight. Youâre not allowed to be late.â
Qi Mu was a little surprised at the sudden approval, but not long after, he smiled and packed his violin into its dark green case.
He picked up the small bag next to the case and walked over to Akkad. He handed it over. âTeacher, this is chocolate from Jeff de Bruge. I didnât know your preference, so I bought a little of everything.â
The dignified little black gift bag contained a box of packaged chocolates. Jeff de Bruge was one of the most famous chocolatiers in Paris. It took almost two hours to wait and buy a box.
Even he didnât know why, but when he passed the store that morning, he remembered Zheng Wei Qiaoâs joke. He stood at the door for a while when a Chinese woman walked over and asked in surprise, âExcuse me, are you. . . from Huaxia?â
When he nodded, this young womanââan intern at Jeff de Bruge, pulled him into the store and let him buy the chocolates without waiting in line.
Akkad looked at the bag and light flashed in his eyes. He looked at him and asked furiously, âYou think because Iâm from Turin, I like chocolate?â
Qi Mu: â . . .â
âIâm an adult, Severin, I donât have a preference for sweets children like to eat.â
Qi Mu apologized, âIâm sorry, Teacher, I didnât know. . .â
âEating a little occasionally doesnât matter.â
Qi Mu: â . . .â
Akkad looked at the bag with disdain but snatched it up and hid it behind his back, not even letting him see it againââlike he thought Qi Mu would take it back.
Dumbfounded, Qi Mu stared.
What was it Farrell said?
Eccentric temper?
No, this couldnât be considered a quirk. There was a popular word floating about lately. . .
Tsundere?!*
*Translates to âProud but tender.â
Under the splendid sunshine, the European buildings in downtown Paris looked as though covered in a layer of spun gold.
After being told to go to the college the next day, Qi Mu dropped his violin off at the apartment, took his wallet and keys, and found the nearest supermarket.
While furnished, the apartmentâs refrigerator and cabinets were empty. He had a lot to buy.
His new apartment was in a good location. It was one street away from the university, and there was a small convenience store nearby. It only had one floor, but it had quite a selection. Qi Mu was rather satisfied.
Under the high-wattage lighting, Qi Mu held a small frying pan, studying it. There were already a lot of items in the cart beside him, fresh fruits and vegetables, and the basic seasonings.
After deciding on the pan, he put it in his cart. He hadnât stood up entirely yet when he saw a familiar figure. After a moment, Qi Mu stood up and looked around.
There was a narrow alley outside the glass window, and there werenât many pedestrians on the sidewalk. Everyone came and went, but they were all blond. Where was that figure he had just seen?
After looking for a long time, he didnât find them and sighed, laughing a little at himself. âI really want to see Min Chen. . . how could he be here? I wonât see him every time I move. . .â
The young manâs voice didnât attract anyoneâs attention in the store, but what he didnât know that halfway down the streetââbefore the magnificent doors of the Paris National Conservatory of Music, a handsome man lifted his head to look up at the quiet, beautiful college, then. . .
Stepped inside.
In the manâs right hand, he held a small black bag. The word âJeff de Brugeâ was written in silver on the side, and it shone like diamonds in the sunlight.
Chocolate and Min Chen? Donât you think. . . itâs a bit disharmonious?!!!