Chapter 40: Contentment Brings Happiness

With Huang Guolun’s usual ways, he was always eager to help others. Doing a good deed each day was a cherished tradition in the Huang family. Having been raised with such values, this belief had become deeply ingrained in Huang Guolun’s very bones. When he saw someone in distress asking for help, if he didn’t reach out like Doraemon, he would feel a pang of guilt within himself.

When it came to music, he liked nothing more than sharing it with others. His dream life was to open a small tavern, where he could sing his favorite songs for anyone who wished to listen. People could visit his little place without needing to spend a cent—as long as they left behind their story. He wasn't one of those who, out of poverty or narrow-mindedness, refused to share their “treasures” with others. If possible, he wished to share his songs with everyone, no matter if they were rich or poor, kind or unruly. As long as they loved music, as long as music could refine their character or offer strength to their soul, Huang Guolun was willing to share it freely.

To him, music was a gift from heaven to this world, priceless and meant to be shared with as many as possible. He was born with no lack of money, so making a fortune from music had never crossed his mind. In fact, he had no desire to make a fortune in any way. Money can’t buy all happiness. But if you have money, others will find ways to make you happy. Huang Guolun understood this truth, so he did not dislike money. Still, because his uncle Huang Hao had encountered misfortune due to being unable to keep money, Huang Guolun held a small superstition about wealth. He didn’t wish to earn too much and bring himself unnecessary trouble.

As the saying goes: money need not be much—enough to spend is enough; a house need not be large—enough to live in suffices; a car need not be luxurious—as long as it gets you around; true friends need not be many—so long as they are sincere; parents need not be noble—so long as they are healthy; life need not be a competition—as long as you are at peace with yourself. That was just the kind of person Huang Guolun was: content with what he had, at ease with wherever life took him. He was not like his brother Huang Guokun, who dreamed of becoming a tycoon. If, in the future, he could own a small tavern of his own and run it at his own risk, that would be enough. Helping others in need when he could, never seeking anything in return—such a life gave him a true sense of accomplishment.

But this time, Zhang Liang’s request was a bit special. If Zhang Liang had asked him to write a love song to court a girl, to indulge in puppy love and neglect his studies, Huang Guolun would never have agreed. But now Zhang Liang wanted his help to write a song just to pour out all the feelings pent up in his heart—this was a favor Huang Guolun was willing to do, as it might really help him.

Still, it could be a double-edged sword—perhaps Zhang Liang would fall even deeper. After some thought, Huang Guolun decided he should first try to talk Zhang Liang around; casually singing a song to brush him off wouldn’t do. After all, Zhang Liang was his student, and he had a responsibility to him.

He set down his chopsticks, sipped his cooling plum juice, and advised Zhang Liang, “You’re all still so young—you don’t really understand what love is yet. The fruit of love is only sweetest when it’s ripe. If you insist on tasting it before it’s ready, how could it possibly taste good?”

Zhang Liang replied bitterly, “Sir, I understand that. But I haven’t tried to taste it! I reached out, but Fang Yun slapped my hand away. In our first year, I courted her and she told me the school forbids early romance. Fine, I believed her! But now in second year, she’s started dating early! Is there some school rule that bans first years from love but lets second years go ahead? Fine! She’s in a relationship, so be it. But couldn’t she at least choose someone reliable? She picked that short, unimpressive Ma Chao! Come on, Guan, Liu—honestly, am I any worse than Ma Chao? I’m taller, and more loyal! Why did Fang Yun choose him and not me?”

Liu Zhongjie laughed, “Why? Go home and look in the mirror a few more times and you’ll know why.”

A few senior girls at the next table overheard their conversation and burst out laughing.

Zhang Liang took a drink, disgruntled. “So girls these days only care about looks when picking boyfriends? Doesn’t character count for anything?”

Guan Qiangguo shot back, “If it’s about looks, you’ve already lost completely, so how can you compare character? Just who gave you such confidence?”

Zhang Liang puffed himself up, “Of course it’s Mr. Huang! He made me realize I can have my moment in the spotlight too! Today at the anniversary performance, the three of us were amazing—true stars, the main attraction! From now on, we’ll only get more and more impressive! Isn’t that substance? Far more than Ma Chao has!”

His words drew glances from several tables around them. Not only did Guan Qiangguo and Liu Zhongjie feel inwardly embarrassed—even Huang Guolun had to scold, “Stop talking nonsense, aren’t you ashamed?”

“I’m not talking nonsense, sir! I really do like Fang Yun! I don’t want to, but I just can’t control myself!”

Zhang Liang was starting to slur his words, yet there was a sincere, infatuated light in his eyes.

Huang Guolun sighed and said, “Actually, I know a way to help you not like Fang Yun so much.”

“What way?” Zhang Liang asked.

“Do you like hearing Fang Yun’s voice?” Huang Guolun inquired.

“I do.”

“Then find a chance to record her voice and set it as your morning alarm. At first, you’ll feel blessed to wake up to her voice every day. But if you keep at it for a month, I guarantee you’ll never want to hear her voice again.”

Liu Zhongjie clapped and laughed, “That’s a great idea! If you want to hate someone, just use her voice as your alarm—it works every time!”

Zhang Liang said miserably, “But I don’t want to hate her.”

Of the three, Guan Qiangguo was the most forthright. He looked at Zhang Liang with disdain: “Today I realize you’re a Lin Daiyu at heart! So fragile! Fang Yun’s chosen someone else and you still don’t want to hate her?”

Zhang Liang shot back, “You just don’t understand! When you like someone, you’ll get it! No matter what she does, you’ll end up forgiving her, loving her in silence! There’s no other way!”

Guan Qiangguo sniffed, “I don’t get it. But I’ll still say—you’re a Lin Daiyu deep down.”

“Enough squabbling,” Huang Guolun interjected, offering the three students his own experience. “To quietly like someone is actually a fine quality. Sometimes, liking someone doesn’t mean you must win them. You’ve all read ‘The Deer and the Cauldron,’ right?”

The three nodded. “Of course.”

“You all remember Wei Xiaobao marrying seven wives, but do you recall the other man—Hu Yizhi, the King of Blades?”

Zhang Liang scratched his face and asked dreamily, “Wasn’t that Hu Fei?”

Guan Qiangguo snapped, “Hu Fei is from ‘Fox Volant of the Snowy Mountain’! Mr. Huang means Hu Yizhi from ‘The Deer and the Cauldron.’ Not only was he a master of blades, he was also dashing and renowned as the most handsome man in the martial world.”

Liu Zhongjie suddenly recalled, “Oh, now I remember! He was obsessed with Chen Yuanyuan, even willing to lower himself to act as her servant, just for a chance to see her, to hear her speak a few words.”

Guan Qiangguo corrected him, “Not Gao Yuanyuan—Chen Yuanyuan!”

Liu Zhongjie quickly amended, “Right, right, Chen Yuanyuan. Got tongue-tied there—accidentally mentioned my own goddess.”

Guan Qiangguo had a deep impression of Hu Yizhi and explained, “Hu Yizhi followed Chen Yuanyuan for twenty-three years, speaking to her only thirty-nine times, and she to him only fifty-nine times—he remembered every word. He might have seemed foolish, but his devotion was absolute.”

Huang Guolun praised him, “Exactly. The Yuan dynasty poet Yuan Haowen once asked the eternal question: ‘What is love, that it drives people to pledge their lives and deaths?’ What is love, really? It means something different to everyone. For Hu Yizhi, love was selfless, expecting nothing in return; it was silent sacrifice and devotion; it was about sowing without demanding a harvest, seeking only peace of mind. Such devotion is the highest state of passion. He swore lifelong loyalty to Chen Yuanyuan, but never once tried to touch even the hem of her robe. Such an attitude is truly precious. Throughout history, only Plato, the first great romantic of ancient Greece, can compare.”

“Mr. Huang, you’re not saying I should be like Hu Yizhi, are you?” Zhang Liang grew more despondent, but forced a smile. “I’d rather be Wei Xiaobao!”

“You? More like Wei Dabao!” Guan Qiangguo teased.

“Wei Dabao, haha!” Liu Zhongjie burst out laughing at the new nickname.

The girls at the next table grew more and more engrossed, joining in the laughter.

In fact, these girls had already noticed Huang Guolun and his three students when they arrived. The group had made a deep impression on them during the school anniversary performance. They were quite interested in Mr. Huang and his high school students.

Huang Guolun smiled along but then grew serious, telling Zhang Liang, “I’m not asking you to be Hu Yizhi, nor to spend your life in silent infatuation. But at your age, reserved feelings are the most precious and beautiful. Adolescent emotions are like seeds straining to break through the earth for air and sunlight. But if a seed doesn’t absorb enough nourishment underground and sprouts too soon, it easily withers halfway. In the end, all that remains is mutual hurt, not a precious, beautiful memory.”

He continued, “At this stage, it’s perfectly normal to like someone, but there’s no need to flaunt it. Unspoken devotion like Hu Yizhi’s is just fine. At your age, secret admiration is the most beautiful and the safest. In this world, for anything that some pursue, others must lose. Right now, you’re just not ready for the competition or conflict of romance. So focus on what you should be doing. Keep that innocent, tender feeling quietly in your heart and savor it. Be content and at peace—that’s the right choice, in my opinion.”

Guan Qiangguo and Liu Zhongjie nodded silently in agreement, finding their teacher’s words full of sense. Only Zhang Liang remained visibly conflicted.

Huang Guolun turned to the short-haired girl with the guitar. “May I borrow your guitar for a moment?”

The short-haired girl eagerly took out her acoustic guitar and offered it with both hands. “Here you go, Mr. Huang—are you going to sing?”

Asked so sweetly by a pretty young girl, Huang Guolun felt a little shy. He nodded gently and said, “I’ll sing a song, to give some guidance to my lovesick, foolish student.”

Zhang Liang was overjoyed. “Sir, does that mean you’ve agreed to write me a song?”

Huang Guolun cradled the guitar, tuned it, and told Zhang Liang, “Inspired by you, I suddenly want to sing a song called ‘Content,’ in the style of Mayday. I hope you’ll understand: no matter how much we want, we can never have the whole rainbow, nor the summer wind. If her happiness isn’t meant for you, then perhaps letting go is, in fact, having.”