Chapter 617

At first, hearing Lisa’s words, she thought it was a plant, that the woman had been brought by Zhou Shihe to suppress Teacher Yu.

Teacher Yu glanced at Li Heng, then at Zhou Shihe, smiling calmly—her composure held up reasonably well. Though they had completely torn the facade, the two women still maintained a surface unity before outsiders, even before Li Heng, to avoid giving anyone grounds for mockery.

This had to do with their cultivation, and with Li Heng.

In response to Lisa’s question, Zhou Shihe smiled quietly and said, “We are musical partners, and also close classmates and friends. When we’re out, he usually protects me.”

Lisa asked, “Does holding hands count as protection?”

Zhou Shihe paused briefly, then said, “In special circumstances, to avoid awkwardness, he holds my hand and leads me away—it’s a thoughtful gesture, a quiet understanding between us. I’ve always been grateful for it.”

Lisa asked, “What kind of special circumstances?”

Zhou Shihe subtly glanced at Li Heng.

Li Heng immediately understood and joked in her stead: “She’s beautiful. Sometimes when we’re out, she needs me to act as a shield.”

Alright, alright—this interview wasn’t following the script anymore; it was drifting off course.

Did Li Heng and the two women know Lisa was deliberate? Was she seizing control of the interview? Or had she truly been stunned by Zhou Shihe’s beauty, prompting her to ask one after another off-topic questions?

In truth, a woman’s sixth sense told Lisa there was something between Li Heng and Zhou Shihe. And since Li Heng, as a world-class musician, was globally renowned and household-famous, exposing even a hint of private romance in the interview would surely captivate the global audience curious about him—and boost Time Magazine’s sales.

This exclusive interview lasted over an hour and consisted of three main parts.

The first was Li Heng’s past and creative journey.

The second was the origin of the album “Eternity,” and the small story of how the three met and came together.

The third part concerned their future plans.

For instance, Lisa asked: “Mr. Li, you are the first Asian musician whose work has caused global audiences to automatically set aside nationality, race, and geography to embrace you. You are also the first Asian musician to grace the cover of Time Magazine. You’ve already achieved tremendous success. Everyone is eager to know your future—could you share your musical plans ahead?”

Li Heng shook his head: “To be honest, I have no concrete plans. For me, true classics emerge from improvisation. To force myself into rigid, profit-driven practice would be exhausting—and contrary to my original intent.”

As for the future, I’ll keep trying to express the essence of China, the depth of the East, as authentically as possible in my music, and spread Chinese culture to the world.

You may know that Chinese musicians often bring rich, nuanced emotion to performance—that’s our strength.”

Lisa asked: “Many Western media claim Chinese education is coercive, yet you emerged as a genius. How do you view this?”

Li Heng smiled: “It’s not entirely true. Our education also employs strategy and flexibility. Leaving other matters aside, take piano, for example—I’ve discussed this privately with Shihe.”

She told me: In the early stages of learning piano, you must train relentlessly. Without calluses, you can’t play well. You must first force yourself to master technique and musical sensitivity, building a solid foundation.”

Of course, Shihe also said that even when parents or teachers push you, they still show flexibility—they guide you to practice intelligently, not aimlessly. Otherwise, practicing ten hours a day only leaves you mentally numb, emerging from the practice room like a mummy.”

Lisa asked her final question: “Then what do you think makes good music education?”

Li Heng thought for a moment and said: “I hope children learn through inspiration. Sometimes, a little push is necessary—after all, diligence compensates for lack of talent—but what matters more is cultivating their self-motivation and genuine love for music. They should be told: the path of learning music demands hardship, but the rewards are priceless.”

Lisa hadn’t expected such a well-rounded answer from someone so young—he left no opening at all. She blinked, stunned, then said: “Alright, thank you for accepting our interview, and thank you, Teacher Yu and Ms. Zhou, for your full cooperation. Thank you.”

After the interview ended and the cameras shut off, Teacher Yu stood and said to Lisa: “Lisa, I need to review the final draft before publication.”

Lisa knew this woman, Teacher Yu, was no mere supporting player in the interview—she wielded real power in the real world. She immediately replied: “Of course. I’ll contact you the moment the draft is ready.”

Lisa left. The production crew left.

Teacher Yu took Liu Bei with her and saw Lisa’s group off at the hotel entrance, then went out to handle other matters.

The room, moments ago lively, now held only Li Heng and Zhou Shihe.

He asked gently: “Are you tired?”

Zhou Shihe replied softly: “Not too much. I took a nap at noon.”

Then she asked: “Do you think my answers today might affect you?”

She meant the incident in Singapore when they held hands.

Li Heng countered: “What effect do you think it might have?”

Before she could answer, he stood up, stretched, and said: “If any other woman harasses you in public in the future, I’ll still step in immediately and take you away.”

His words were objective, fair—those of a gentleman.

But for the two of them now, they carried an unspoken, tender ambiguity.

Zhou Shihe quietly watched his profile. After a few seconds, she slowly lowered her gaze, eyelids drooping, and closed her eyes: “I’ll rest a bit.”

Li Heng asked: “Aren’t you going to your room to rest?”

Zhou Shihe replied gently: “There isn’t enough time. Dinner will be soon.”

Li Heng turned to look at her, lips parting—then fell silent.

In truth, both knew: she’d just said she wasn’t tired, yet now claimed rest was needed—it was merely an excuse. She didn’t want to face alone those eyes full of enchantment, for his ambiguous words had stirred her heart.

After the brief exchange, silence fell over the living room.

Li Heng didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he sat on the opposite sofa, glanced at a newspaper, then, without realizing it, his gaze drifted to her graceful figure—quietly observing, quietly admiring.

Zhou Shihe’s intuition was sharp—even with her eyes closed, she felt his gaze slowly tracing over her.

And as time passed, she clearly sensed his gaze growing hotter, filled with longing. Unconsciously, her body tensed; her slender fingers on her thighs began idly gripping her pant leg.

She dared not move too much, afraid of drawing his attention, afraid he’d notice her inner cracks, afraid he’d take advantage.

They remained locked in this stalemate… neither dared speak, fearing they’d shatter the strange atmosphere.

Seconds ticked by. How long had it been?

Until the air grew so thick it nearly suffocated—then she regretted it. She should’ve gone to her room to rest.

But there was no remedy for regret. She fought hard to suppress her emotions—yet he moved, inexplicably.

As her thoughts scattered, suddenly, a pair of large hands settled on her, lifting her into a cradle.

In that instant, her slender frame trembled; her long eyelashes fluttered. She was terrified.

Then came soft footsteps—he was moving, carrying her with him.

She could feel: they were heading toward the bedroom.

What was he going to do? Zhou Shihe’s mind went blank.

The door opened. She knew they were inside the room.

He walked another ten steps, then stopped abruptly beside the bed—no further motion. Her body hung suspended.

For about half a minute, she felt his next actions: he bent down, gently laid her on the bed—but his arms didn’t release her. He still held her.

Instantly, her heart pounded wildly, as if about to leap from her throat.

The bedroom was deathly silent. Zhou Shihe longed to open her eyes and see what he was doing—but hesitated, afraid.

Suddenly, a whisper reached her ear: “Are you asleep yet?”

Zhou Shihe remained silent.

Another voice softly followed: “Shihe, how bad is it between you and Teacher Yu? You two seem more distant than ever. If this keeps up, how will you ever perform together again?”

So he was worried about this, she thought.

Zhou Shihe still said nothing.

After a long while, Li Heng withdrew his hands from beneath her. Gazing at this exquisite woman, serene as a flower reflected in water, his right hand unconsciously touched her cheek.

Two or three seconds later, he sighed softly, removed his hand, pulled the quilt over her, then rose and quietly slipped out of the bedroom.

Hearing his footsteps fade, hearing the door close, Zhou Shihe exhaled a long, deep breath. Her tense body collapsed onto the bed, utterly limp, like a deflated balloon, drained of all strength.

This state lasted about two minutes. Finally, she slowly opened her eyes. First she looked at the door, then raised her gaze, fixing it on the ceiling—rarely, she fell into a daze.

How should she handle this man? How should she handle this complicated love of his?

Though she held firm when arguing with Teacher Yu, that was mostly pride. In truth, she was weighed down by countless concerns.

One: her best friend, Mai Sui—how could she face her honestly?

Two: he was too fickle. Her heart refused to accept it.