Chapter 68: Chinese Music

"Enough, stop it—no more caterwauling!" Huang Guolun couldn't take it any longer and called Zhang Liang to a halt.

Zhang Liang, thick-faced, signaled to his classmates. Instantly, the students rallied behind him, clapping and cheering enthusiastically:

"Wow! Zhang Liang sings so well! You're our idol!"
"Zhang Liang, today the spirit of the Song God has possessed you! Amazing!"
"Zhang Liang, you've finally found your musical path!"
"This is the first time I've heard 'Why Are the Flowers So Red' sung so beautifully. I'm... so moved! Ugh..." The student who shamelessly uttered this suddenly felt a pang of conscience and almost made himself sick.

With his classmates supporting him, Zhang Liang felt invigorated. Like a conductor, he waved his hands, leading the rhythm and asked, "Did I sing well?"

"Yes—so well!"

"Who do you think I sound like?"

"Zheng Jun!"

This synchronized exchange left Huang Guolun stunned, but he finally understood what was going on. These kids had clearly planned this; they were just messing with him! Even if he were deaf, he could tell this was nothing like Zheng Jun—more like Negative Jun.

Zhang Liang twisted his neck with difficulty, proudly seeking approval from Huang Guolun. "Well, Teacher Huang? Were you shocked by me? You surely didn't expect it—I have Chinese rock running in my veins!"

"Very good." Huang Guolun nodded at Zhang Liang, his smile ambiguous, and took a sip of tea, speaking in a leisurely manner. "Since you all love listening to Zhang Liang sing so much, I won't teach this class. In fact, I won't teach any future classes. We'll just listen to Zhang Liang sing for an entire semester. How does that sound? If you all are willing to endure it, I'll keep you company, risking my life to listen with you."

This statement was like a bomb, immediately detonating the entire Grade Eleven, Class Five.

Zhang Liang was dumbfounded; the students below were even more so. Weren't they supposed to have Teacher Huang sing? How did it turn into Zhang Liang singing for a whole semester? Who could stand that?

The students erupted in dissatisfaction, all targeting Zhang Liang.

Liu Zhongjie was the first to shout, "Zhang Liang, didn't you agree with Teacher Huang? How did it end up with you singing?"

Liu Lu chimed in, "Yeah, Zhang Liang, are you tricking us?"

Zhang Liang panicked. "Teacher Huang, that's not what we agreed on! Didn't you say that if I sang like Zheng Jun, I wouldn't have to sing for the rest of the semester? How can you go back on your word?"

This only made the students angrier. They realized Zhang Liang had double-crossed them!

"Zhang Liang, you're such a jerk! You tricked us!"

"Classmates, raise your hands to vote Zhang Liang out of the class!"

"Teacher Huang, Zhang Liang's shameless! Please don't punish us because of him! We don't want to hear him sing—we want to hear you!"

"Classmates, hit Zhang Liang with your books!"

The furious mood almost rivaled the public outrage when Zhang Liang once ate excrement in front of everyone.

Zhang Liang shrank his neck into his brace, pleading, "Everyone, don't be hasty—let me discuss it with Teacher Huang."

Huang Guolun, imposing even without anger, said, "Don't discuss with me. You colluded with your classmates to fool me—do you really think I'm as gullible as you?"

Zhang Liang hurriedly protested, "No, Teacher Huang! Doesn't my singing sound like Zheng Jun? Listen closely—my style really resembles his!"

Before Huang Guolun could reply, the students below erupted:

"Zhang Liang, stop disgusting us! You sound nothing like Zheng Jun! Even Nicholas Zhao Si sings better than you!"

"Zhang Liang, get back here! Stop bothering Teacher Huang!"

"Teacher Huang, please sing a song to soothe our wounded hearts!"

"Zhang Liang turned flowers into cow dung—Teacher Huang, help us make the flowers bloom again!"

"Let's have Teacher Huang sing for everyone, shall we?"

"Teacher Huang, sing for us!... Teacher Huang, sing for us!... Teacher Huang, sing for us!"

The students ignored Zhang Liang entirely and began a collective assault on Huang Guolun.

Teacher Huang waved his hand at them. "Stop making a fuss. Was all this scheming with Zhang Liang just to make me sing?"

Cui Li, standing up as class monitor, apologized, "Sorry, Teacher Huang. We shouldn't have played along with Zhang Liang, but we truly want to hear you sing for us."

Other students chimed in, each expressing their views:

"Yes, Teacher Huang, isn't music class meant for us to appreciate beautiful music? Your singing is the most beautiful music—we all want to hear you."

This flattery made Huang Guolun a bit embarrassed.

He instructed Zhang Liang to return to his seat, saying next week he'd face another "punishment."

Then, addressing the students who seemed to be waiting for the stars to align, he said, "Stop buttering me up. If you want to hear me sing, that's no problem—it's not a big deal. But you must pay attention in class first. Music class is not just about appreciating music; you also need to understand it and learn how to truly appreciate it."

Huang Guolun returned to the day's lesson plan. "The history of music in our nation stretches back through the ages, but unfortunately, much has not survived to this day. You've all studied the Book of Songs—the 'Wind,' 'Elegance,' and 'Hymns' sections each have distinct styles and purposes: some for political instruction, some for religious rituals, others purely for entertainment. Sadly, all that remains of the Book of Songs are the poems themselves; the musical scores have long been lost—a cause for deep regret. When Confucius compiled the Music Classic..."

When he mentioned the Music Classic, a few mischievous boys, led by Zhang Liang, snickered.

Zhang Liang was the first to question, "Teacher Huang, as far as I know, Confucius was a man, right? How could he have a 'monthly classic'? Are you sure you haven't mixed things up?"

Huang Guolun shot Zhang Liang a glare. "Stop interrupting. I'm talking about the Music Classic, one of the Six Classics—a treasure of ancient Chinese music, though sadly lost. It's said that in 1936, fragments of the Music Classic were unearthed in Xi'an, but then a momentous event occurred there, and with the upheaval, the excavation was abandoned. The Music Classic was never found again."

As a native Chinese musician, the loss of the Music Classic was a true sorrow for Huang Guolun.

He sighed deeply, then continued, "Consider the ancient southern folk songs like the Songs of Chu, the narrative poetry of the Han Music Bureau, and the later divisions and reunions of songs and ballads during the Han, Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern dynasties. The rise and fall of Tang poetry and Song lyrics—these are all treasures of ancient Chinese music. Unfortunately, only the words survive; the music scores are gone. We can no longer experience the brilliance of Chinese music as it once was."

This lamentation made the students listen quite attentively.

A girl in the front row asked, "Teacher Huang, didn't China preserve ten great ancient musical pieces? Not everything was lost, right?"

"The so-called ten classical masterpieces we hear today are believed to have originated in the Yuan and Ming dynasties. Though they have several hundred years of history, no one can say for sure if these pieces are the same as those from a millennium ago. Even if they are, they represent only a tiny fraction of the vast ocean of Chinese classical music."

Huang Guolun opened the textbook and began the formal lesson. "The ten classical masterpieces—'High Mountains and Flowing Water,' 'Three Variations on Plum Blossoms,' 'Moonlight Over the Spring River,' 'Autumn Moon in the Han Palace,' 'Spring Snow,' 'Dialogue Between Fisherman and Woodcutter,' 'Eighteen Songs of the Nomad's Flute,' 'Guangling Melody,' 'Wild Geese Descending on the Sandbank,' 'Ambush from Ten Sides'—just their names are inspiring. When performed with traditional Chinese instruments, the sound is elegant; the beauty of Chinese music is evident. These are the essence of traditional music that we can still inherit today.

"Imagine: Boya playing the zither by the riverside, only Ziqi understanding the grandeur of mountains and the depth of waters; the moon rising over the spring river, a lone boat, a flicker of fishing light drifting beneath the moon; plum blossoms braving frost and snow, casting sparse shadows, their fragrance subtle, noble and upright; the sorrow of leaving one's homeland mingling with the longing after separation, like weeping and sighing; beset by ambushes on all sides, hearing songs of Chu everywhere, possessing the strength to move mountains but, alas, a hero's life is short—farewell and suicide, what pain! The autumn moon, autumn wind, autumn night stretches long, a solitary shadow wandering, longing for home—such loneliness, how can one endure? Since Ji Kang's passing, the Guangling Melody was lost, but it once revived the chivalrous spirit of Nie Zheng's assassination; those who have the fortune to hear it today are truly blessed!..."

Huang Guolun passionately lectured on the ten classical masterpieces, speaking for nearly half an hour.

At first, the students listened with rapt attention. But as the time ticked away and the end of class approached, Huang Guolun continued teaching without singing. The students grew restless.

Guan Qiangguo couldn't hold back any longer and seized an opportunity to suggest, "Teacher Huang, after hearing your lecture, we understand the beauty of Chinese music in words. Could you combine teaching with entertainment and sing us some ancient pieces?"

Huang Guolun replied, "These ancient pieces are instrumental and can't be sung. Only 'Dialogue Between Fisherman and Woodcutter' has lyrics added by someone later, but singing it would diminish its charm."

Guan Qiangguo persisted, "You don't have to sing the ten ancient pieces. How about singing Tang poems or Song lyrics for us? Weren't they originally sung? The scores may be lost, but you're so talented—perhaps you could compose new melodies for them?"

Liu Zhongjie agreed, "Yes, Teacher Huang. Music can't just be taught—it needs to be appreciated. That's how we can truly feel the depth and grandeur of Chinese music. Classmates, am I right?"

"Yes—!"

"Teacher Huang, sing for us!... Teacher Huang, sing for us!... Teacher Huang, sing for us!"

Today, the students of Grade Eleven, Class Five were united as one, determined to have Huang Guolun sing for them.

Bai Yao joined in, clapping and cheering with her classmates. Although asking Huang Guolun to sing ancient music was a bit demanding, Bai Yao believed that with his musical genius, such a request would not trouble him.

When Huang Guolun looked at Bai Yao, she even smiled slyly and nodded at him, her gentle, reserved eyes pleading for him to fulfill the students' earnest wish.