Chapter 5: Swift Adaptation

Craning his neck to peer into the infirmary from outside the door, Zhang Liang’s face lit up instantly, turning from bitter melon to dazzling sunshine as he saw that Huang Guolun had awoken. Excitedly, he reported to Chen Shufen, “Mr. Huang is awake! Ha! I told you, Mr. Huang would be fine!”

Chen Shufen and Bai Yao both breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Huang Guolun awake. Huang’s hearing was so acute that he even caught the sound of Chen Shufen’s long exhale. Zhang Liang’s boisterous shouting was like a clap of thunder in Huang’s ears, making his eardrums throb painfully.

Zheng Ren, seeing Huang Guolun sit up, hurried over. “Mr. Huang, you certainly slept deeply. How are you feeling now? Any discomfort?”

Huang pressed at his ear and replied, “No real discomfort, just a little odd in the ears.”

“What kind of odd?”

“Shh…” The proximity of Zheng Ren’s voice sent a ringing through his eardrums, but Huang Guolun couldn’t reveal his transformation, so he just said, “It’s nothing—an old issue. Dr. Zheng, do you have any cotton balls? Could you get me a few?”

Puzzled, Zheng Ren fetched him some cotton balls. He watched as Huang rolled them up and stuffed them firmly into both ears.

“Why are you…?”

“Just a habit,” Huang replied.

With the solid cotton balls in his ears, the external noise finally quieted somewhat. Chen Shufen brought her two students to Huang’s bedside to apologize.

“Mr. Huang, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended to have a stomachache in your class,” Zhang Liang said, bowing his head in sincere regret.

Thinking back on Zhang Liang’s prank, Huang couldn’t help but smile wryly. This boy’s wild imagination and Oscar-worthy acting had disgusted everyone in class, but if not for Zhang Liang’s mischief, perhaps his own mind wouldn’t have been so dramatically awakened.

Huang had no intention of holding it against Zhang Liang, and instead asked with a smile, “So all you did in my class was pretend to have a stomachache?”

Zhang Liang paused, quickly correcting himself. “I… I shouldn’t have pretended to, um, use the bathroom in your class.”

“Pretend to use the bathroom? …Pfft.” Zheng Ren couldn’t help but laugh at Zhang Liang’s bravado.

Chen Shufen shot Zhang Liang a glare, her eyes saying: I’ve never seen such a mischievous student!

But Huang Guolun pressed on, “So you only pretended to use the bathroom?”

Zhang Liang forced a sheepish grin. “Well… I also shouldn’t have pretended to, er, smell it.”

“What?” Zheng Ren stared, adjusting his glasses, astonished by this outrageous student.

Unexpectedly, Huang Guolun continued, “You only pretended to smell it?”

Zhang Liang, embarrassed, glanced at the incredulous Zheng Ren, then looked down and confessed, “I… I shouldn’t have pretended to eat it…”

“My god!” Zheng Ren was floored. What had this boy done?

Chen Shufen, half exasperated, half amused, scolded Zhang Liang on Huang’s behalf, “In nearly twenty years of teaching, I’ve never seen a student as troublesome as you. Of all things, why would you pretend to eat that in class? If you’re not ashamed, I’m embarrassed for you! You can skip afternoon classes—go home and bring your father. I want to have a long talk about your intelligence.”

“Ms. Chen, I won’t do it again! Please forgive me! Give me another chance, and I’ll prove with my actions that there’s nothing wrong with my intelligence!”

Zhang Liang’s plea was so earnest, it moved even Bai Yao to a rare laugh. Bai Yao’s laughter, like her voice, was deep and low—startling to hear from such a pure, icy beauty. One couldn’t help but wonder how such a crystalline girl could have a voice so haunting.

With his newfound superhuman hearing, however, Huang Guolun found her voice strangely captivating. Her vocal frequency was unique, and if it were channeled into singing, it could become deeply magnetic. He wondered if she had any musical talent, though so far, he’d seen no sign of interest or gift in music from Bai Yao. She never sang in his class, and during group singing, she would only mouth the words, as if she refused to use her raspy voice.

A top student like her surely aimed for Tsinghua or Peking University, not a singing career. The thought left Huang Guolun with a sense of regret.

Chen Shufen, unwilling to let Zhang Liang off easily, scolded him until Huang Guolun persuaded her to relent. Bai Yao, too, sincerely apologized to Huang. And so, the matter was settled.

That afternoon, Huang Guolun took leave and went home rather than remain at school. He didn’t follow Zheng Ren’s advice to get a thorough medical checkup; what had happened to him was too bizarre. His mind was now overflowing with musical inspiration, and he dared not let any doctor examine him for fear they might ruin this gift.

His instincts told him not to share this transformation with anyone—not even his son, Huang Tao, lest the boy accidentally blab. This was something he would have to digest on his own. He also needed to adapt, by himself, to his hypersensitive hearing.

Cotton balls could not block all the world’s noise. Unable to bear the sudden barrage of sounds, Huang left school that afternoon and drove straight to his private mansion at Liulichang, seeking refuge in the soundproof recording studio for the rest of the day.

Currently, Huang Guolun and his son were living in an old three-bedroom apartment in Zhongsheng Alley—a house that had belonged to his grandfather. Huang had grown up there and was deeply attached to the place. The old building felt like it housed a guardian spirit, protecting the tranquil childhood memories in his heart.

His father’s company owned many properties, and Huang had lived in several mansions, but none compared to this old family home on Zhongsheng Alley. Living there brought him an indescribable sense of security. It was conveniently located, only a few minutes’ walk from the experimental middle school where he taught. Both his grandparents had moved to a villa in the northern suburbs to enjoy their retirement, leaving the old apartment empty, so he’d simply moved in with Huang Tao.

Before moving to Zhongsheng Alley, he had been living at Zixing Mansion, a luxury community west of Liulichang. Zixing Mansion was the only high-end development within the Second Ring Road to open after 2007. All its residents were wealthy or powerful. The smallest homes were 200 square meters. When it first opened, his grandfather bought two 308-square-meter apartments—one each for Huang Guokun and Huang Guolun—as wedding homes.

After their marriages, both brothers lived there, but perhaps the feng shui was poor, or perhaps their family’s funeral business sapped their good fortune, because neither had a happy marriage. Huang Guokun divorced within two years and was taken for millions by his ex-wife. Huang Guolun fared even worse; within two years, his beloved wife Chen Jia passed away.

After his wife’s death, Huang soon moved out of Zixing Mansion, but he didn’t sell the apartment, for it was filled with precious memories of Chen Jia. She had been an interior designer and had personally designed and overseen the renovation, pouring her heart and wisdom into every detail. They spent over six million yuan on it, most of which went into a 30-square-meter, professional-grade recording studio—Chen Jia’s secret gift to him. She only revealed the studio after the home was fully furnished and she brought him there.

Though Huang was just an average music teacher, even the most ordinary person has a right to dream. Chen Jia’s hope was that one day he would bear richer musical fruit. After she died, Huang couldn’t bring himself to enter the apartment for a long time; every visit flooded him with memories, each one tearing at his heart.

Thankfully, his mischievous son, Huang Tao, was there to keep him company, preventing him from sinking into deeper sorrow. As Huang Tao grew, he became a spirited little gourmand, helping to ease his father’s grief. Now, whenever Huang thought of Chen Jia, he would look at his son and smile, sometimes feeling as though Huang Tao was Chen Jia reincarnated. They shared the same playful nature, and the boy’s nickname, too, was Chen Jia’s doing—she loved peaches and named him Huang Tao on a whim.

Originally, Huang Tao’s formal name had been Huang Jiaqian, chosen by his grandfather after consulting a fortune teller. After Chen Jia’s passing, Huang Guolun legally changed his son’s name in her memory, even quarreling for a while with his father over it. In the end, his grandfather relented, his love for his grandson undiminished.

Nearly every weekend, the old man would ask Huang to drive Huang Tao to the northern villa to spend time with his grandparents and great-grandparents. In the past six months, Huang Tao’s grandmother, Zhou Yunfen, had moved into the Zixing Mansion apartment, out of love for her grandson. Huang Tao attended an international bilingual kindergarten in the complex, so after the move, Grandma Zhou saw him daily, feeding him dinner each evening before sending him and his father back to Zhongsheng Alley. Sometimes, Huang Tao would sleep over and Grandma Zhou would take him to school in the morning.

But Huang Guolun didn’t want his son living at Zixing Mansion permanently. It wasn’t out of self-denial, but because of the misfortunes that had befallen his brother and himself there. He feared the place’s bad luck would affect Huang Tao, so even if it meant being strict, he insisted on raising his son at Zhongsheng Alley.

Grandma Zhou shared his worries, so she didn’t insist on keeping the boy there, except every Friday after kindergarten, when she would bring Huang Tao home to Zixing Mansion, and the family would head to the northern villa for the weekend.

It was Friday again. Grandma Zhou picked Huang Tao up early and called Huang Guolun, telling him to come home after work—she had something to discuss. From her tone, Huang knew she must have lined up another blind date for him.

By now, it had been more than a week since Huang’s miraculous transformation. From needing soundproof earplugs just to function, to being able to filter out unwanted frequencies at will, he had adapted to his superhuman hearing with astonishing speed. Now, after blocking out the noise, the world’s sounds were softer and more refined, and music more exquisite than ever. Listening to beautiful melodies felt like bathing in a river of music, his whole being immersed in bliss, as if he had entered paradise.

This unprecedented auditory pleasure deepened his love for music. And not just listening—his own musicianship had improved as well. His sense of pitch and rhythm had made a qualitative leap, his playing and singing shifting from mediocrity toward heavenly beauty. His creativity had ascended to a monstrous level.

He had spent many recent days recording the music that suddenly poured into his mind, producing a slew of moving works in the studio Chen Jia had built for him. He hadn’t shared any of these songs with anyone, not even Grandma Zhou, afraid she’d bombard him with questions as teachers do.

Huang was not the type to boast of sudden genius. Though he was a billionaire’s son, he lived simply. Even blessed with unprecedented musical talent, he lived as an ordinary man, largely unchanged. He didn’t know what the future would hold, nor what this gift would bring, but for now, he was content to savor the present, the music, and his tranquil life.

That evening, after work, he drove back to Zixing Mansion. As soon as he entered, he saw little Huang Tao in the living room, singing with childish gusto and perfect mimicry: “If a dog eats too much, it’ll trip as it walks. Hurry, take the dog for a run to help digestion and keep healthy. After eating, if the dog just sleeps, the owner should reflect. If the dog gets too fat, it’ll be laughed at, so let’s all do aerobics together…”

The chubby little ball was singing while leading their seven-year-old Old English Sheepdog, Dudu, in a fitness routine—an adorable sight indeed.