Chapter 41: Boiling a Frog in Warm Water

Huang Guolun’s philosophical question left Guan Qiangguo, Liu Zhongjie, and the others deep in thought.

The girls at the neighboring table nodded frequently as they listened, finding Mr. Huang’s words romantic and moving. He was nothing like the rumors at school painted him—a lecher obsessed with lurid novels. Instead, he was clearly a charming, romantic uncle!

The short-haired girl who had lent her guitar to Huang Guolun was named Liu Yingqiao.

Noticing that Huang Guolun, while speaking, had reached out to adjust the tuning pegs on her guitar without so much as a greeting, Liu Yingqiao was slightly startled. Was he retuning her guitar?

She knew her guitar hadn’t been tuned in a long time, and the strings might be a little off. But in such a noisy hotpot restaurant, could Huang Guolun really tell, after just a few casual strums, that her guitar was out of tune?

That… was impressive!

Indeed, Huang Guolun was retuning Liu Yingqiao’s guitar. Three of the strings were slightly loose and off pitch—not by much, and most people wouldn’t notice. But such discrepancies could not escape Huang Guolun’s extraordinary ear.

He quickly tightened the strings and tested them again. Now the tuning was much better.

Zhang Liang took a sip of his drink and suddenly asked Huang Guolun and the others, “Did Mayday ever sing a song called ‘Content’? Why haven’t I heard it before?”

Liu Zhongjie laughed, “You really are drunk. Mr. Huang said this is a song in Mayday’s style, not one actually sung by Mayday. I think he wrote it himself, right?”

Huang Guolun smiled and nodded.

Zhang Liang continued, “Does Mayday’s music have a special style?”

A slightly plump girl at the next table, a Mayday fan, stuck her neck out and replied, “Mayday’s music is all about sincerity! Their commitment to genuine music has never changed. That’s their greatest strength!”

Huang Guolun nodded approvingly and said, “Exactly. The song I’m about to sing is a sincere one. I hope you all understand the joy of being content. If you love deeply, you must let go—to give her freedom is to truly possess her.”

He was about to start singing, fingers poised on the strings.

Zhang Liang quickly grabbed his phone. “Wait! Wait a second, Mr. Huang! Let me record this. I want to learn it myself later.”

Liu Yingqiao and her friends, captivated by the way Huang Guolun held the guitar and by his charming words, were a little smitten with him. They, too, took out their phones to record his performance.

Suddenly, a group of starstruck students surrounded him, turning the noisy restaurant into something like a new song release party.

Huang Guolun felt inexplicably happy, with not a trace of nerves. In the past, without his unique talent, he wouldn’t have dared take the stage. But now, with ears that could pierce the earth itself, singing for others felt effortless.

Facing the cluster of phone cameras, he remained calm. Without deliberately looking at any lens, he crossed one leg over the other, raised the guitar, and began to strum and sing—

“How can you own a rainbow,
How can you embrace the summer wind,
The stars above laugh at the people below,
Always unable to understand, unable to feel content…”

Accompanied by fresh, clear guitar chords, his voice was gentle and magnetic. In just a few lines, the students were entranced.

The boys might not catch all the subtleties, but Liu Yingqiao and her friends, having pondered his thought-provoking questions, found the opening of “Content” incredibly romantic.

As the song continued, it only grew more so—

“If I fall in love with your smile,
How do I keep it, how do I possess it,
If your happiness isn’t for me,
Perhaps letting go is the only way to truly have you…”

When the wind blows and the kite soars into the sky,
I pray for you, blessing you, moved by you,
Until your figure vanishes at the edge of the crowd,
Only then do I realize,
Smiling through tears is the greatest pain…

They would never have imagined that this unassuming Mr. Huang possessed such a captivating voice—weathered by life, yet brimming with genuine passion, mature yet pulsing with youthful sincerity. Compared to Zhang Liang’s rap at the school anniversary, this was enchanting indeed.

As the saying goes, it’s not the rogue intellectual you should fear, but the uncle who plays the guitar.

Old ginger is always spicier!

There was a nonchalant charm in these uncles as they played and sang—one that young girls simply couldn’t resist.

The Mayday fan half wanted to bow down to Huang Guolun halfway through. This truly was Mayday’s style! Closing her eyes, she felt as if she were listening to a richer, more magnetic Ashin singing. It was so moving she was nearly in tears.

Listening up close, Liu Yingqiao compared Huang Guolun’s performance to her own at the school’s anniversary. The difference was like a chasm! His singing and playing both seemed effortless, yet his emotions were sincere and passionate—a true unity of man and instrument, emotion and voice.

If you listened with your heart, you’d find that he transformed the bustling hotpot restaurant into a romantic seaside dinner by candlelight.

Truly astonishing!

So much so that Liu Yingqiao wanted to ask him to be her mentor.

As Huang Guolun sang, not only were the students around him mesmerized, but even nearby diners set down their chopsticks to listen.

Nobody quite knew why, but this ordinary-looking man’s singing was so natural and appealing that they couldn’t help but want to hear more.

It was no wonder. Huang Guolun had over twenty years of musical training. Though not gifted with genius, he had worked diligently, laying a solid and deep foundation.

Now, with his extraordinary hearing, all aspects of his musical ability had undergone a qualitative leap. Whether singing or playing, the subconscious corrections his ears enabled brought everything to a harmonious, natural level.

There was no need to show off—his relaxed, heartfelt performance gently captivated his audience, like frogs slowly warmed in water.

Zhang Liang, holding his phone, found himself once again thoroughly captivated.

He’d once heard a saying: only those who have endured hellish torment possess the power to conquer heaven; only fingers that have bled can play the world’s greatest music.

While Huang Guolun’s playing might not yet be the world’s best, the heartfelt emotion within it touched Zhang Liang deeply.

They all knew Huang Guolun had suffered the loss of his wife; he was a man with stories.

Hearing him now sing about finding contentment, Zhang Liang and his friends were especially moved.

Indeed, only a heart that has bled can sing the most heartbreakingly romantic songs.

The last two lines struck Zhang Liang particularly hard:

“The happiness of being content teaches me to endure heartache,
The happiness of being content teaches me to endure heartache…”

In love, this happiness—sung by Huang Guolun—was truly poignant: a pain that one could and must bear, a pain that gradually lets go, a happiness that allows one to wish others well, a beautiful, fulfilling story.

Inspired by the song, though pain still lingered in Zhang Liang’s heart, he felt as if he’d begun to understand something.

When the song ended, the girls at the next table were even more excited than Liu Zhongjie’s group, exclaiming that Huang Guolun should become a singer or musician—his performance was nothing short of divine!

Being showered with praise by his students, Huang Guolun was in a wonderful mood.

He’d been complimented so often lately that he almost felt light-headed. Yet, in truth, he didn’t like that feeling. His uncle, Huang Hao, had once become too proud and, ignoring the old fortune teller’s advice, met with disaster.

Two thousand years ago, the ancients already warned: misfortune lies where fortune rests, fortune hides where misfortune lurks.

Blessings and disasters always come hand in hand.

A person must never get carried away. No matter how much good fortune comes their way, they should never forget why they started, and continue on their path—only then will good fortune not turn to disaster.

Whatever others might think, this was the principle by which Huang Guolun lived.

He didn’t stay too late with Zhang Liang and the others. By eight o’clock, he sent the three boys home.

He himself returned home, retrieved his car from Zhongsheng Alley, and drove straight to Purple Star Residence to pick up Huang Tao and Bai Yao.

He had no idea that, as he drove, he was already trending in the Experimental Middle School’s friend circle on WeChat.

When he got home, Grandma Zhou pulled him aside to praise Bai Yao. Since her arrival, Huang Tao had become especially well-behaved. Though the boy was still mischievous, whenever Bai Yao appeared, he’d calm right down and play nicely with his big sister.

Grandma Zhou thought Bai Yao was a miracle! She could handle Huang Tao with ease.

Huang Guolun thought, of course Bai Yao was amazing—she was practically a “goddess” in Huang Tao’s eyes! And with her intelligence far outstripping Huang Tao’s, it was no wonder she could keep him in line.

With Bai Yao’s help, Huang Guolun truly felt his life was easier and happier, his quality of life dramatically improved.

At last, he no longer had to “battle” Huang Tao every day.

That night, after bringing Huang Tao home, it was just past nine when Huang Guolun, as usual, told him a bedtime story and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

Tonight’s story was about Chang’e flying to the moon.

After listening, Huang Tao asked, “Dad, do you know why Chang’e is so changeable?”

“Changeable? Why?” Huang Guolun didn’t have Bai Yao’s quick wit and couldn’t answer all of Huang Tao’s questions.

Huang Tao giggled, “Because her name is ‘change’! Hehe.”

“Uh… that’s a cold joke.”

Huang Guolun mused that his son was learning both pinyin and English well in kindergarten, managing to blend them so seamlessly.

“Dad, do you know what the two hardest things in the world are?”

“What are they?”

“One is to put your own thoughts into someone else’s mind. The other is to put someone else’s money into your own pocket. If you succeed at the first, you’re called a teacher; at the second, you’re called a boss. If you succeed at both, you’re called a wife.”

Huang Guolun was left speechless. “Where do you learn all this nonsense?”

“But it makes sense! You’re just an unsuccessful teacher. My uncle is an unsuccessful boss. But my grandpa is both a successful teacher and a successful boss. Do you know what the biggest difference between you and Grandpa is? It’s that neither you nor my uncle has managed to be a successful wife. If you did, you’d be both a successful teacher and a boss!”

Huang Guolun was at a loss for words.

He knew the boy was, as usual, circling back to talk about a new mom.