Chapter Thirty: The Part-Time Pianist

Su Tong wandered aimlessly down the street, a bitter taste in his heart. For the first time, he felt a twinge of resentment toward the rich—so what if you have money? But then he chuckled at himself. He was the one in dire need of money; who was he to claim that wealth wasn't important?

Suddenly, the sound of a song drifted over: “I want to soar into the sky, shoulder to shoulder with the sun, the world is waiting for me to change it…” The uplifting melody of "I Believe" floated in the air, instantly sweeping away his earlier gloom. Buoyed by a new sense of vigor, he paused and waved to Gao Litong, who had been trailing him at a discreet distance.

“All set?” Gao Litong caught up, her beautiful face alight with a smile that could dazzle anyone. She truly was pure and charming, her grin tinged with a childlike innocence.

“How could I be in a bad mood with a beautiful woman following me around?” Su Tong took the parasol from her and nodded toward the shop playing "I Believe." “Hear that? It’s an inspiring song. Every time I listen to it, I feel like I could blow up a planet.”

Gao Litong giggled. “Glad you’re okay. Can you really sing, though?”

Though Su Tong felt dejected inside, he replied with feigned pride, “I sing just as well as the original singer. If you don’t believe me, listen to this.” He opened his mouth to sing, but then drooped his head. “Forget it. They’ve got accompaniment and studio editing; even a superstar would sound like a firefly compared to the full moon if they had to sing a cappella out here.”

Gao Litong laughed and leaned in to speak softly. “My dad’s Golden Jade Garden complex is finished; some residents have already moved in. They’re planning a celebration and have invited a few singers. Well, they’re not celebrities—heard they’re just bar singers. I recommended you. I don’t care how good you are, just don’t embarrass me. I haven’t asked about the payment yet. Would a thousand be enough? If not, I’ll cover the rest.”

“A thousand?” Su Tong was stunned. That was a high fee. Most bar singers only made two to five hundred a day—getting a thousand for just a few songs at an event seemed too easy.

Of course, that was because Gao Litong didn’t know the going rates. If her father handled it, they might not even offer five hundred, and even that would be generous for a non-celebrity. Some would probably sing for free, if asked.

“Is that too little?” Gao Litong asked, a bit embarrassed.

“Huh?” Su Tong hurried to say, “No, that’s plenty. Whatever they offer is fine; it definitely won’t be a thousand. I’m not a star or anything, and even for celebrities, the rate is much higher.”

“So little?” Gao Litong sounded doubtful and decided to call her father directly.

As expected, her father had no idea and didn’t care—what boss would handle such trivialities? So she made another call. Su Tong, listening nearby, guessed it was to the event organizer.

“Hello, Uncle Wang… Yes, it’s Tongtong. I have something to ask…” After a brief conversation, she hung up, flashed a victory sign, and grinned.

Still, she looked embarrassed. “Su Tong, three songs—one hundred each.”

Su Tong was quite pleased. “Three hundred is not bad at all. You have no idea how desperate things are for me right now—my family is so poor we can barely afford a meal, and everyone’s waiting for me to bring home some rice.”

Gao Litong pursed her lips. “You’re such a liar. You don’t seem that anxious to me. I’ll lend you a thousand first.” She added in a small, awkward voice, “Is a thousand enough?”

Su Tong waved his hand grandly. “Not enough… How about a hundred thousand?”

Gao Litong took him seriously and looked distressed, on the verge of tears. “You really need that much?”

Su Tong burst out laughing. “Just kidding. I don’t need to borrow anything. When’s the event? Can you pay me in advance?”

Relieved to hear he didn’t need ten thousand—or even a thousand—Gao Litong said happily, “I’ll give you five hundred, and you can keep the extra two hundred. Hehe, that means I’ve made a profit of a hundred thousand. What’s a measly two hundred compared to that?”

Su Tong was momentarily speechless. Was this for real? This girl seemed so generous, happy to help count out her own money.

After buying Gao Litong an ice cream and letting her see him off at the Jinshitan Route 1 bus terminal, Su Tong finally headed home.

“I’ll come pick you up at noon tomorrow—don’t wander off, okay?” Gao Litong waved as she left.

Su Tong felt a bit sheepish. When they arranged to meet today, he had arrived early, wandered around, and ended up getting lost. Even following the online map, he couldn’t find his way back, and in the end, Gao Litong had to come find him.

“What a mess,” he sighed on the bus ride home. His father’s medical bills were still covered for now, but in a few days, there wouldn’t be enough. He had to hustle for side gigs to get through until his streaming salary came in.

A few stops later, as the bus waited at a red light at a crossroad, Su Tong noticed a sign outside a music shop: “Hiring two part-time pianists. Pay negotiable.”

Now, this was promising. He’d recently undergone several training sessions in the system’s virtual space, mastering guitar, cello, and piano at a godlike level.

But every time he finished a session, the sight of an instrument made him nauseous. The training was so intense—months at a time in a single room, practicing with a virtual instructor. The monotony was enough to drive him mad, even though the system had enhanced his endurance at the start.

It was months and months of grueling practice—just him and the instructor, talking shop or grinding away at the instruments, until Su Tong felt sick and ready to snap.

When the bus stopped again, Su Tong got off immediately. Fortunately, the bus hadn’t made any turns yet, or he might have lost his bearings and never found the music shop.

It was only a little past four in the afternoon, so he wasn’t in a hurry to get home.

“Hello, I saw your job posting for part-time pianists. Are you still looking?” Su Tong asked at the counter.

The receptionist was a young woman in her twenties. When she looked up and saw Su Tong—whose looks were, frankly, a bit much—she was momentarily stunned.

“Ahem.” Su Tong cleared his throat softly.

Flushing, the receptionist stood and said shyly, “Yes, we’re hiring. Are you here to apply? Come with me—you’ll need to interview with the manager.”

Su Tong followed her inside and saw that the shop had a large room set up like a classroom. A young woman, about twenty, sat at a piano, surrounded by children ranging from toddlers to teens. Nearby stood a woman in her thirties, watching with a gentle smile.

“Please wait in the tea room,” the receptionist said, pointing to a glass-walled room. She stopped at the water dispenser, fetched a disposable cup, and brought him some water.

“Thank you.” Su Tong realized how thirsty he was. He’d been out in the summer heat all afternoon, too frugal to buy himself a bottle of water—even treating Gao Litong to ice cream had felt like a painful extravagance.

His family’s finances were dire, all their money tied up at the hospital. The doctor had made it clear that what they had wasn’t enough. His father, the arsonist, was badly burned and would need a skin graft.

Apparently, his old man had dragged his enemy into the fire with him in a suicidal struggle—both were burned. It took four or five strong men to pull them out. Even after being rescued, his father couldn’t resist taunting people, which nearly got him beaten to death.

Su Tong drained the cup in one go, wishing it were bigger; the little bit of water was hardly enough.

Before he had time to look around, he saw through the glass wall that the woman who had been supervising the children’s piano lesson was approaching.

“Hello, have a seat, don’t be so formal,” she said as she entered. Su Tong quickly stood, but she gestured for him to sit.

The manager was an elegant woman in her thirties, attractive and refined.

“May I ask what level you’ve reached in piano, and which institution certified you?” she asked as soon as she sat down.