Chapter Four: Lü Heruo Teaches Music at Taipei First Girls’ High School

13

Inside the office of the People’s Herald, in a corner of the newsroom.

The room was filled with a mixture of tobacco smoke and the smell of ink and paper. Reporters sat at their typewriters, their fingers striking the keys rapidly. Lü Heruo sat at his modest desk, his pen moving swiftly across the manuscript paper.

“Brother Lü, don’t you think this article of yours is a little too radical?” A young colleague leaned over to look at his work, unable to conceal his surprise.

“That is simply the way things are,” Lü Heruo replied calmly but firmly. “The government authorities are corrupt, and the voices of ordinary people are being suppressed. If I refuse to write about it, I am no better than someone who condones it.”

“But... if you write it this way, I’m afraid the editor-in-chief won’t approve it.”

“Then let him reject it.” Lü Heruo folded the manuscript pages and placed them in his briefcase, his expression fearless. “When I write news articles, my job is to report the facts, not to please anyone.”

His colleague shook his head helplessly. “With a temper like yours, you’ll end up getting fired sooner or later.”

14

One month later. Lü Heruo’s dormitory.

Lü Heruo gazed out the window. The gloomy sky reflected the frustration and confusion in his heart.

“Yulan, I’ve resigned from the newspaper.” Lü Heruo took off his Sun Yat-sen suit and hung it over the back of a chair. His voice carried a sense of exhaustion and helplessness.

Su Yulan walked out of the kitchen, still holding a bowl of freshly cooked rice broth.

“Did the People’s Herald... still refuse to let you write those critical articles?”

“It’s not that they refuse to let me write them. They won’t even let me touch them.” Lü Heruo gave a bitter smile and rubbed his forehead with both hands. “I thought I could do something for society, but in the end, I realized there was nothing I could change.”

Su Yulan gently placed the bowl on the table and took his hand.

“Heruo, perhaps you should try somewhere else... Use your music to influence more people.”

Lü Heruo gazed into Su Yulan’s eyes, and a new flame seemed to ignite within him.

15

Taipei First Girls’ High School. The music classroom.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the neatly arranged pianos and music stands. Young female students gathered in the classroom, their eyes bright with anticipation as they looked toward Lü Heruo, who stood at the front of the room.

“Everyone, today we’re going to practice Jasmine Flower.” Lü Heruo’s voice was gentle and clear. He moved both hands lightly, as though conducting an invisible orchestra.

When the piece ended, applause erupted throughout the classroom.

“Mr. Lü, you play beautifully!” exclaimed a girl with her hair tied in two ponytails. She held her sheet music in both hands, her eyes filled with admiration.

“Mr. Lü, could you teach us more pieces?” another student asked excitedly.

Lü Heruo smiled and nodded. “Of course. Music is like an endless garden. There are always new flowers waiting for us to discover.”

As time passed, Lü Heruo gradually established himself at Taipei First Girls’ High School. His music classes became a place where he and his students could explore and grow together.

One day, after school, several female teachers gathered outside the music classroom, quietly discussing him.

“Mr. Lü really is a remarkable talent. Not only is he an excellent pianist, but he’s also very good at teaching vocal music.”

“That’s right. And there’s something about his bearing... How should I put it? He has a distinctive charm.”

“I heard he used to be a journalist. Now that he’s devoted himself to teaching, it’s a blessing for our school.”

Amid such praise and admiration, Lü Heruo’s name gradually spread throughout the campus, and he became someone neither the students nor the teachers could easily overlook.

16

Taipei First Girls’ High School. The music classroom on a spring afternoon.

Outside the classroom windows, leafy green trees provided abundant shade, while white magnolia blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze. Lü Heruo stood beside the piano, his fingers gently brushing across the keys. Clear notes flowed from his fingertips like drops of dew, lingering in the air.

His gaze swept across the students listening attentively. Seeing their eager eyes, he felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction.

“Today, we’re going to try a new piece, Moonlight Sonata. This piece is filled with profound emotion, and I hope everyone can feel its atmosphere.”

The students lowered their heads slightly, picked up their fountain pens and sheet music, and began writing down their teacher’s instructions.

At that moment, the youngest student, Li Meihui, gently raised her hand. A hint of shyness showed on her face.

“Mr. Lü, I... I’m not sure I can play this piece well.”

Lü Heruo smiled slightly, walked over to her, and patted her on the shoulder.

“Meihui, everyone goes through a learning process. Music is not merely a demonstration of technical skill; it is also an expression of emotion. You have to believe in yourself. With practice, you’ll discover how much you’ve improved.”

Meihui’s eyes immediately brightened. Encouraged by her teacher’s words, she nodded gently and began tentatively playing the keys. Lü Heruo stood nearby with his hands clasped behind his back, carefully observing each student’s performance.

17

The dismissal bell rang, and the students left the classroom in small groups, chatting among themselves about that day’s lesson.

Several female teachers walked past, quietly discussing Lü Heruo’s teaching.

“Mr. Lü really is exceptional. His classes always inspire the students to develop a passion for music.” A middle-aged female teacher watched Lü Heruo approaching and smiled with admiration.

“That’s right. Looking at those students, I’d say they aren’t even attending a class. They’re enjoying a grand musical feast,” another female teacher remarked.

“He has his own way of teaching. He knows how to open the windows of his students’ hearts. He teaches them not only how to play but also how to feel the emotions within the melodies.”

Hearing their praise, Lü Heruo nodded slightly and responded politely.

“Thank you all for your encouragement. I believe music is like a mirror. It reflects the emotions deep within us. That is what I most hope my students will come to understand.”

He gently touched the fountain pen in his pocket, recalling the days when he had once found the determination to persevere in music.

18

Several months later, one day, the music classroom at Taipei First Girls’ High School was transformed into a small concert venue.

The students wore their neat school uniforms and held their sheet music. Some stood beside the piano, while others waited onstage, preparing nervously yet excitedly for their performances.

Lü Heruo stood at the back, watching the students with a smile, his eyes filled with anticipation.

“Remember, a song is more than just notes. It is an expression of emotion. Let the melody speak,” he said softly to a student who was about to go onstage.

“Mr. Lü, I’m nervous.” Li Meihui stood at the side of the stage, her hands trembling slightly, an anxious expression on her face.

Lü Heruo walked over and gently took her hand.

“That’s all right. Every time you feel nervous, it’s proof that you’re making progress. You can do this.”

Meihui looked into her teacher’s eyes, took a deep breath, and raised her head. With steady steps, she walked toward the stage. She sat down, took another deep breath, and began to play.

As the first note rang out, the atmosphere in the classroom seemed to freeze. It was as though even the air itself had been captivated by the sound of the piano.

Standing nearby, Lü Heruo felt a quiet sense of relief and satisfaction. He nodded gently, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Pride in his students shone in his eyes.

19

After the concert, on the lawn outside the classroom, the students gathered around Lü Heruo, excitedly discussing their performances and sharing their thoughts.

Li Meihui walked up to him, her face beaming with a radiant smile.

“Mr. Lü, I did it! I really played it well!”

“Of course you did, Meihui. You performed wonderfully.” Lü Heruo patted her on the shoulder, his eyes filled with approval.

“Mr. Lü, I want to become a musician just like you,” one student said shyly.

“Everyone has their own path. You must believe in yourself. The world of music is limitless.” Lü Heruo spoke gently, feeling a profound sense of accomplishment that was difficult to put into words.

His teaching career had become a bridge of music that he and these young minds were building together.