When the school bell rang, before Li Qian could sneak off, Teacher Qi had already


    called his name, “Li Qian, come to my office after school.”


    Amid the bursts of laughter, the students joyfully headed home, and Li Qian had no


    choice but to follow Teacher Qi to her office.


    With a black knee-length skirt, well-shaped legs, delicate ankles, nude-colored


    stockings, and strappy high heels, she walked just ahead of him, each step calm and


    graceful.


    Elegant like a cat, seductive like a fox.


    When they reached the office, Teacher Qi sat down and tapped on the desk. “So, what’s


    the deal here? What exactly are you trying to do?”


    Li Qian kept his head lowered, his tone unusually sincere. “Teacher, I was wrong.”


    “Wrong? Is that all you have to say?”


    Li Qian fell silent.


    Now that he thought about it, he realized he had indeed been a little out of line in class.


    Although this era was generally open-minded about love and relationships, the respect


    for teachers was far deeper than in his past life. He had openly flirted with a young


    teacher in front of everyone—this was really inappropriate.


    Seeing him silent, Teacher Qi continued, “What’s with all these strange comments from


    you? What’s going on between you and Wang Jinglu? Whether you’re dating or


    planning to get married, I can’t interfere. But you can’t be throwing love confessions in


    my class, can you? Making everyone laugh like that—how are the other students


    supposed to focus on their studies?”


    Uh, she didn’t even mention the flirting part?


    Thinking about it, he realized that from an adult’s perspective, a seventeen-year-old


    boy making a joke about admiration could easily be dismissed as a harmless flirtation,


    and not really "harassment" as such.


    In other words, she probably thought: You’re just a seventeen-year-old kid—what do


    you know about flirting?


    Li Qian didn’t dare look up at her, afraid she might see something in his eyes, so he


    simply repeated his apology, even more sincerely this time, “Teacher, I was wrong.”


    “Good, you know you were wrong,” she said.


    Teacher Qi opened her pink thermos, took a sip of water, and continued, “The other


    teachers aren’t making demands, and I’m not planning to punish you for this. But… how


    about you try to improve your grades a little?”


    Li Qian raised his head to glance at her, then quickly lowered it again.


    Teacher Qi sighed. “Look at you, such a smart kid, quick with jokes. I remember when


    you first entered high school, you were in the top ten of your class. Now, there are


    forty-five students in total, and you’re ranked forty-third! I know your Chinese is great,


    it’s always been good, but that’s not enough. You need to work harder in other


    subjects, okay?”


    What else could he say? Li Qian could only nod and reply, “Okay.”


    Teacher Qi thought for a moment and then said, “Alright, from now on in my Chinese


    class, you can do whatever you want—study whatever subject you like. If you want to


    study math, English, or even Russian, go ahead. Just don’t disrupt my class and don’t


    sleep. I know your Chinese grades are good, but your English and Russian scores are


    only around thirty or forty points. It’s clear you haven’t been putting in any effort. These


    subjects are all interconnected, and if you just put in a little effort, you wouldn’t be


    getting such low scores…”


    After school that afternoon, Li Qian finally had the time to visit a music store and buy a


    new set of guitar strings.


    In his past life, he had played guitar for over twenty years—classical guitar, flamenco,


    electric guitar, Hawaiian guitar, pick guitar, and so on, mastering every type. So a cheap


    folk guitar that cost around a hundred yuan? It was nothing.


    He quickly replaced the old strings and started tuning.


    For beginners, tuning a guitar usually requires a piano for reference, but Li Qian didn''t


    need that. He had perfect pitch ingrained in his mind.


    Luckily, even though this guitar had been abandoned under the bed for at least ten


    years, the apartment was on the third floor and not humid, so the body and resonance


    of the guitar were still intact.


    ...


    As Li Qian strummed the guitar, making loud and clumsy sounds, his father, Li Shuwen,


    curiously knocked on the door and poked his head in. "What’s going on here? What,


    you’ve decided to mess with the guitar again?"


    Li Qian lifted the guitar and, more excited than ever before, said, “I went to buy a new


    set of strings this afternoon and just replaced them. Dad, I wrote a song. Want to hear


    it?”


    Li Dad looked skeptical. “You learned for three days ten years ago. I remember you


    shaking your head like a rattle, saying you didn’t want to learn anymore. Now, after ten


    years, you can change strings by yourself? And you wrote a song?”


    Li Qian responded seriously, “I have natural talent!”


    Li Dad waved his hand, “Come here, show me the manuscript. You can use that talent


    to fool little girls later, but I’ll need to see the script first.”


    Li Qian asked, “Manuscript? You mean the tree you planted?”


    Li Dad was a bit offended by that, “What do you mean, ‘the tree’? You don’t know


    anything! This essay is called ‘Hometown Yellow Flowers,’ just finished editing. Come


    on, give me some feedback.”


    Li Qian refused, “No, if you want me to look at your manuscript, you have to listen to


    my song first. Understand what it means to do things in order?”


    Li Dad, always a reasonable man, hesitated for a moment. He thought he should at least


    listen to his son and provide some serious advice later, so he said, “Fine, fine, sing. I’ll


    listen.”


    Excited, Li Qian cleared his throat, tuned one last string, and confirmed the tuning was


    fine. He then thought to himself that his father, being of a certain age and a deep


    literary type, would probably furrow his brows if he performed a song like "My Territory"


    or "Little Apple." However, overly classical songs, like Liu Huan''s “Qing Yuan,” which had


    a Beijing opera style, would definitely not fit his current style.


    After a brief pause, Li Qian made his decision. He started playing, with clear and soft


    guitar notes filling the room, competing with the sounds of clattering in the kitchen and


    the hum of the range hood.


    “When the petals fall from the flower, the faint fragrance remains,


    The scent vanishes with the wind and rain, no one comes to smell.


    If love tells me to go forward,


    I will fight until love is exhausted.


    If the heart dies in splendor,


    Love will be reborn in the ashes.


    I cannot forget the moments of whispering sweet words,


    With your smile, you gave me a farewell.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Let the heart die in splendor,


    Let love be reborn in the ashes.


    The fire scorches the grass,


    And once again, spring wind arrives.”


    ...


    The song was definitely a great one, one of those rare masterpieces that could take the


    whole music scene a year to produce. And with Li Qian’s guitar arrangement at such a


    high level, and his voice, which was much better than in his past life—though not


    trained, with slightly weaker breath control—it didn’t matter. Li Qian knew how to use


    his voice. High notes, falsetto transitions, and tonal shifts were effortlessly executed,


    giving the song plenty of flavor. The entire performance was pretty impressive.


    Though his vocal quality could not compare to the original singer’s tenderness and


    emotion, if the song were sung at a karaoke bar, it would definitely rock the room.


    This was Li Qian''s first performance of this life. It wasn''t perfect, but he was deeply


    invested and filled with emotion. After finishing, he opened his eyes after a long pause,


    nervously looking at his father. "Dad, how was it?"


    Li Dad seemed to be lost in thought. He stared blankly for a moment before


    responding, “This... you wrote it?”


    “Yeah! I wrote it!” Li Qian confirmed.


    Li Dad pondered for a while, a thoughtful expression slowly emerging on his face. He


    raised an eyebrow, then looked at Li Qian with a slightly troubled expression.


    Li Qian stared back, eyes wide.


    Li Dad walked into the room, pulled over Li Qian’s desk chair, sat down, and said


    seriously, “Xiao Qian, listen to your dad. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. What’s


    most important is finding and utilizing your strengths. Do you understand?”


    Li Qian was confused, “Dad, what are you talking about? Where is this going?”


    Li Dad looked a bit embarrassed, rubbing his hands together, “I mean, look... sigh, my


    point is, if you want to chase girls, there’s no need to sing or anything like that.”


    Li Qian was even more confused. He stared blankly at his father.


    Li Dad frowned and explained, “I mean… for example, your mom was beautiful, right?


    You kids today would call her a ‘school beauty.’ Don’t look at her now, she’s just a


    housewife, but she was stunning back then! Anyway, look at yourself in the mirror, you


    look a lot like her. And it’s not just her looks. She was great at everything—reciting,


    singing, acting, hosting... She was the arts champion at school every year. She was


    amazing! But me? I’m not bad-looking, but just an ordinary guy, with almost no artistic


    talent at all. Yet, what happened? Didn’t your mom still chase after me?”


    “Wow!” Li Qian had never heard his father speak so emotionally about the past. His


    eyes lit up, and he eagerly sat down on the bed, forgetting about the song. “Dad, tell


    me, how did you attract Mom back then?”


    Li Dad straightened up, his eyebrows almost flying off his face. “It’s simple. I was good


    with words! Anyone can hum a song, but can just anyone write a novel? Sure, singing


    well is not easy, but can she compare to writing a novel, turning it into print, and


    earning a lot of money? If I didn’t write novels back then and just played the guitar and


    sang to your mom, would she have chosen me?”


    Li Qian chewed on his words, starting to catch on. But it was a little confusing, and he


    wasn''t sure.


    After a moment of thought, he asked, “So what you mean is, instead of singing, I should


    focus on writing a love poem or something? Is that what you mean?”


    Li Dad slapped his thigh and nodded eagerly, “Actually, singing isn’t bad, but the girls


    next door, they’re into that kind of thing. You sing a song, pretending it’s your own, but


    if they find out, won’t that be embarrassing?”


    Sure enough!


    His father had been trying to explain the whole situation in a roundabout way, and now


    it all made sense! He thought the song was plagiarized!


    And once he assumed that, he added his own backstory: Li Qian had likely copied the


    song to impress Wang Jinglu.


    The old literary man’s mind really worked in mysterious ways!


    But the problem was... did he really think I’m that desperate?


    Li Qian opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but didn’t know what to say.


    To be honest, in this world, he could proudly say the song was his own. But... but still...


    Li Dad was pleased with himself, thinking his advice was timely and successful. He felt


    incredibly proud as a father, and without even checking the manuscript, he stood up


    and left. Before leaving, he turned around and said, “By the way, you sang well... uh,


    what’s the name of the song? Do you have a cassette?”


    Li Qian shook his head, his face full of gloom. “The song is called ‘Hidden Fragrance.’”


    Li Dad, oblivious to his son’s inner turmoil, nodded, “Good name, fits well! Especially the


    lyrics, very meaningful!”


    ...


    After dinner, Li Dad and Li Mom were watching TV in the living room, while Li Qian was


    in his room, feeling down.


    It was true—people with boundaries really do suffer.


    When facing his father’s suspicion, he realized that if he had insisted the song was


    original, he would have felt embarrassed. No wonder things were so tough in his


    previous life!


    Too thin-skinned!


    But then, thinking about the struggles of his past life, he suddenly felt a little tougher.


    “Damn it, in my last life, I was struggling on the poverty line, dragging down national


    statistics for over thirty years. Forget Aston Martins and Ferraris, I couldn’t even afford a


    Ford Mustang. This time, at least I’ll get a small Changan sports car! Anyway, in this


    world, I’m definitely the original creator!”


    With this thought, everything became clear to him.


    He quickly grabbed his locked diary and started writing songs.


    One after another, writing lyrics and melodies, and even some arrangements. For


    someone who had been in the music industry for over a decade as a semi-professional


    lyricist and amateur singer, it was nothing. No exaggeration, he could remember


    hundreds or even thousands of songs. With the right inspiration, more would come to


    him.


    He was writing quickly when his phone vibrated twice.


    It was a text from Wang Jinglu. He opened it, only to find it blank.


    Li Qian put down his pen, and the image of her delicate face suddenly filled his mind,


    making his emotions become complex.


    ...


    In the living room, Li Dad, proud of himself, nudged Li Mom, who was focused on the


    TV. She glanced at him, not really hearing what he said but noticing his smug


    expression. She quickly pushed him away, “Stop messing around. Watching TV. What if


    our son comes back late, and you embarrass yourself?”


    Li Dad’s expression instantly turned awkward, like he was constipated.