Translator: Yunyi
A book hit him on the head with medium force. Amidst his confusion, he heard a girl's cold voice.
"Stay away from me."
He was dumbfounded.
...
It was just the first day of the week and Song Yaoyao had already stolen the show.
When the teacher arrived, he did not ask about the absent students. The literacy teacher with his half-bald head, minded his own business as he explained the textbook. Most of the students slept through the class, while a few listened to music on their headphones or played games on their phones.
So, when Wang Zhongyun glanced away from his textbook momentarily and saw the scene before him, his voice paused for a moment.
Who was the girl that was listening seriously to him? Song something...?
Wang Zhongyun furrowed his brows and thought seriously. Logically speaking, he should have had some impression of this beautiful and well-behaved girl. But for some reason, no matter how hard he tried to search through his memory, this girl did not seem to exist in his mind.
Evidently, Song Yaoyao did not leave much of an impression in the past.
"Ahem!" Wang Zhongyun put down his book and asked, "Student, what class are you from? Did you walk into the wrong room?"
Song Yaoyao, who was busy writing down notes, lifted her head in confusion: "???"
"Puhahahaha..."
As soon as Wang Zhongyun spoke, a troublemaking student burst into laughter.
As he pointed at Song Yaoyao, he said, "Sir! That's Song Yaoyao!"
Wang Zhongyun was completely confused, "Who's Song Yaoyao? Is she part of this class?"
"Yes! You've already been teaching her for 3 years!! Ever since the first year of senior high!"
The boy rolled his eyes speechlessly.
"Really?" Wang Zhongyun was skeptical. These students always caused trouble, so he didn't quite believe them.
So, he waved at the aggrieved girl as she looked at him with a pair of big watery eyes. "Come here, student. Do you know what I was teaching? Can you recite this poem?"
Song Yaoyao stood up obediently. "Are you talking about 'Ode To The Lute Player'? This poem was written by Bai Juyi, a poet from the Tang Dynasty. It is one of the long Yuefu poems. Do you want me to recite it?" She tilted her head as the sun shone down on her eyes, making them sparkle like glitter.
Her voice was delicate and her tone was gentle, creating a pleasant vibe.
Wang Zhongyun was amused as he looked at Song Yaoyao forgivingly. "This poem is really long. It's okay if you can't recite it."
To be honest, he was already pleased that Song Yaoyao was able to tell him what he was teaching and where it originated from.
At that moment, several students became interested and started watching the scene.
"Ode To The Lute Player? What's that? Is it a song?"
"It must be, right?"
"Oh? Is he asking Song Yaoyao to sing?"
The discussions entered Wang Zhongyun's ears, causing him to roll his eyes. Just as he was about to slam his hands on the table angrily and scold these useless kids, a girl's voice started reciting the poem calmly, immediately drawing his attention.
"One night, at Xunyang Pier, I bade my guests goodbye. Maple leaves and reeds created a magnificent autumn scene.
"As I dismounted my horse, my guests boarded their boat. We raised our drinks for a toast but there was no music to accompany it.
"We were drunk, but we weren't happy because parting neared. Meanwhile, the moon reflected in the river.
"Suddenly, from over the waters came the sound of a lute. I was distracted from returning home and my guests were reluctant to leave.
"Following the sound, we tried to see who was playing. But the lute stopped playing..."
...
"...She was skilled with the strings. First, she played 'The Rainbow Dress' followed by 'The Little Six'."
"The low notes were like pelting rain. The high notes were light like gentle whispers.
"High and low, a melody was formed. Like drops of water falling on a plate..."
As Song Yaoyao recited the poem, the wind swept up her hair, and beams of light danced above her head. She stood straight in her school uniform, and the well-tailored suit accentuated her slim waist. The scene was so beautiful that even the light that fell on her shoulders made one envious.