Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

Chapter 220 Coach Lao Liu

The doorbell rang precisely at 9:00 a.m. on Saturday.

Charles led Isabella Adler into the music room that had been specially prepared for her in the villa. The room was well-insulated and well-lit, and the Steinway grand piano stood quietly in the center, its streamlined body gleaming warmly in the morning light.

"Good morning, Mr. Lin," Ms. Adler greeted him.

"Good morning, Ms. Adler, thank you for your help." Lin Yan stood up and greeted her.

The course began with the most basic music theory. Ms. Adler drew musical notation on the whiteboard, explaining notes, durations, and rhythm. Lin Yan listened attentively, his comprehension surprising Ms. Adler. He could grasp almost any concept after just one explanation and apply it to other situations. As a result, this beginner was able to learn about modes and intervals in his first music theory lesson. Lin Yan could even quickly deduce the sharps and flats in different keys based on the whole-tone and semitone rules of the scale he had just learned.

"Very good," Ms. Adler said with a rare hint of approval. "Your logical thinking skills are outstanding. Now, let's apply this knowledge to the keyboard."

She began instructing Lin Yan on the most basic hand position and touch. To her slight surprise, Lin Yan did not exhibit the stiffness and clumsiness she had expected from a beginner. His fingers were long and slender yet strong, landing on the keys with a rare sense of relaxation. Although he was still figuring out his dynamic control, and occasionally the keys would produce overly abrupt sounds when he tried to play louder notes, his finger independence was clearly far beyond that of the average person. Ms. Adler was a little disappointed that this child hadn't started practicing from a young age.

What shocked her even more was Lin Yan's sight-reading ability and memory. He could roughly find the positions of his fingers on the keys after looking at the score once; after practicing two or three times, he could play it relatively fluently without the score and clearly reproduce the fingering and rhythm points that Ms. Adler had emphasized.

"Mr. Lin," Ms. Adler said as the lesson ended, looking at Lin Yan who had just finished playing a Beyer etude, "I must say, your learning speed is one of the fastest I've ever seen in my teaching career. Your understanding of abstract rules and your natural finger dexterity are both outstanding." She paused, then added, "I hope you can maintain this focus in your violin lesson this afternoon."

"Thank you, Ms. Adler. I will." Lin Yan nodded humbly.

At 2 p.m., the enthusiastic Mr. Dario Rossi arrived on time.

"Ciao! My dear Lin! Are you ready for the 'sweet torture' of the violin?" Mr. Rossi's laughter was infectious.

Unlike the piano, the violin presented Lin Yan with a new challenge. Just holding the violin and gripping the bow alone required coordination of multiple parts of the body. Mr. Rossi patiently corrected every detail: "Chin gently resting, shoulders relaxed… wrists, wrists level, like a bridge… fingers naturally curved, yes, imagine holding an egg…"

Lin Yan learned very quickly. He had excellent body control and could quickly imitate and fix the correct posture. But problems arose during the initial open string practice—the friction between the bow and the strings produced a teeth-grinding squeaking sound, sometimes with sudden changes in volume due to uneven pressure, and sometimes with inconsistency due to the bow not being straight.

Mr. Rossi's eyes lit up: "Don't worry! Every beginner is like this! The important thing is that I can see the beginnings of 'correct' in your posture! Your body is listening to you, and that's extremely important!"

Next, Mr. Rossi began to explain the music theory of the violin, especially the importance of pitch. "The notes of the piano are fixed, but we violinists need to 'find' each note with our ears and fingers!" He demonstrated the relationship between the position of each finger in the first position and the pitch.

Lin Yan once again demonstrated his terrifying learning ability. Mr. Rossi only needed to play a standard note, and Lin Yan, with his keen hearing and powerful memory, could quickly adjust the position of his fingers on the strings, constantly approaching that accurate pitch. By the latter half of the first lesson, he could already play the melody of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" haltingly but roughly correctly in pitch.

"Bravo!" Mr. Rossi exclaimed, waving his arms excitedly. "Genius! Absolutely genius ears and touch! Lin, you were born to play strings!"

After two music lessons ended and the two teachers, still in a state of shock and excitement, left, Lin Yan gently stretched his slightly sore neck and shoulders. It was finally over. The piano was alright, but the violin beginner's tone was pure torture for Lin Yan's senses.

In the afternoon, when Lin Yan arrived at Madison Square Garden a little late because of his violin lesson, he found the atmosphere different from usual. Not only were Coach Holt, Tom, and Mike present, but there were also five tall, muscular Black players on the court. They were casually warming up with shooting drills, their movements fluid and powerful.

Upon seeing Lin Yan enter, Coach Holt's eyes lit up. He immediately came forward, grabbed Lin Yan's wrist, and with a hint of slyness in his eyes, led him toward the five players.

"Hey guys, hold on a minute!" Coach Holt clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Let me introduce you. This is my student, Lin, whom I've been talking about with you guys lately."

Five pairs of eyes simultaneously fell on Lin Yan. They scrutinized him, examined him, and then, almost simultaneously, revealed varying degrees of doubt, or even a hint of barely perceptible contempt.

Jason opened his mouth, staring at the Eastern boy whose breathing was even, as if he had just taken a stroll. His throat was dry, and he couldn't utter a sound. He finally understood that Marcus Holt wasn't joking; he had truly unearthed an unprecedented monster in human skin!

"Monster..." Jason could only utter this word at the end. He turned to look at his equally dumbfounded teammates and said with a wry smile, "Looks like... we're going to have to pay a hefty price tonight."

Tom and Mike watched from the sidelines as these professional players, whom they usually only saw on television, were utterly stunned by Lin Yan's performance, their pride practically bursting within them. They knew that from this day forward, Lin Yan's name would likely circulate in a different form within this small circle of professional players. Lin Yan himself, however, simply picked up a basketball and began practicing his shooting, as if the stats from earlier were irrelevant to him.