Chapter Twenty-Six: A Thousand Troops and Ten Thousand Horses Cross a Single Log Bridge

This time, aside from discussing the contract, Zhou Miao also took the opportunity during his meeting with Zhang Liangkuan to inquire about the requirements for the composition program entrance exam at the Central Conservatory of Music. On the spot, Zhang Liangkuan called up a former roommate from the composition department for advice.

After gathering the information, Zhou Miao realized he had greatly underestimated the difficulty. Although the conservatory didn't have particularly high academic requirements, its demands for the professional assessment were exceedingly strict. The composition department, in particular, was one of the most challenging programs to gain admission to among all faculties, with a broad array of skills required: composition, piano, harmony, sight-singing and ear training, and music theory.

As the country's premier music academy, the Central Conservatory set a high bar for every discipline. Take piano, for example—even if you were applying for the composition program, your piano skills needed to rival those of piano majors. The same went for the other skills.

What made things even tougher was the minuscule number of students admitted each year to the composition department—last year, only twenty-two were accepted, and this year would likely be around twenty. Nearly everyone brave enough to apply had been immersed in music since childhood, with rock-solid foundations. The competition was brutal.

Zhang Liangkuan’s roommate advised Zhou Miao that if he was truly prepared for the challenge, he should start preparing right away. Ideally, he should go to Beijing and find a professor from the composition department to mentor him. If a professor took a liking to him and was willing to take him on, it would be almost as if he had one foot already inside the conservatory. With a year of structured training, as long as his fundamentals weren’t too weak, he’d likely meet the requirements.

Moreover, during the entrance exam, being a professor’s protégé would earn him some goodwill from the examiners—they might be willing to turn a blind eye to minor shortcomings and let him pass.

Of the various skills required for the entrance exam, Zhou Miao felt confident about piano and sight-singing/ear training. Since childhood, his parents had hired one of the most renowned piano teachers in the province for him, so his foundation was solid. As for sight-singing and ear training—essentially, reading music and singing, as well as transcribing music by ear—he had been developing those abilities from an early age and had cultivated perfect pitch.

Perfect pitch is the ability to identify or produce any musical note without a reference tone, recognizing the pitch of sounds from instruments or the environment. Many believe perfect pitch is innate, but with systematic training between the ages of three and nine, ordinary children can also develop it.

However, Zhou Miao had never received formal training in composition, harmony, or music theory—they were all self-taught. If he went into the entrance exam with just that, his chances would be slim.

He truly owed Zhang Liangkuan his thanks—fortunately, he had learned all this in time to make up for it.

Seeing Zhou Miao’s troubled expression, Zuo Qiu sensed an opportunity to shine.

“I actually know a professor from the composition department at the Central Conservatory. If you make up your mind, I can introduce you,” she offered.

Zhou Miao was visibly interested. “Thank you, but I still need to think about it and discuss it with my family.”

“No problem. Just call me when you decide. Here’s my card—I’ll be in Suzhou for a while,” Zuo Qiu said, handing him her business card. She had come with little more than hope, but now that she had a chance to sign Zhou Miao, she wouldn’t leave until he had put pen to paper.

“All right. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” Zhou Miao replied.

It was late by then. After the meal, Zhou Miao took a cab home and told his parents about the entrance exam. When Hong Xue heard that he would need to go to Beijing immediately to study with a teacher, she was reluctant to let him go but said, “You’ve grown up now. If this is really what you want, I’ll support you.”

Zhou Ye frowned, “Will you be going alone? If a teacher is willing to take you, you’ll have to stay there for a year. Where will you live? Should your mother go with you?”

Zhou Miao smiled helplessly. “I’m old enough now—if Mom tags along, people will laugh at me. Don’t worry, I’ll rent a place and take care of myself.”

Suddenly, he slapped his forehead. “Right, I need to bring Milk Candy with me. If I’m gone that long, the cat will get depressed.”

Hong Xue, annoyed, tugged his ear. “You little rascal, all you think about is your cat. Have you considered how your mother might feel with you gone so long?”

Zhou Miao grinned. “You’ll still have Dad to keep you company. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever—I’ll come back to visit whenever I can.”

Zhou Ye, on the other hand, didn’t mind his son going out on his own; he believed boys should learn independence. He was more concerned with the contract.

“So, have you decided whether to sign with Rainbow Records?”

Zhou Miao scratched his head. “Rainbow Records has been around for a while, but it’s pretty much just an empty shell now. I looked it up when I came back—there aren’t any famous artists under their label.”

“But their offer is sincere. Compared to the big companies, Rainbow actually suits me better. They don’t have many resources, but I don’t need much. I’ll ask them to bring the contract over so I can look it over in detail.”

Zhou Ye nodded, approving of his son’s reasoning. Zhou Miao had always been independent and mature; he often forgot he was talking to his own child and not an adult. Aside from his son’s aversion to studying, he thought Zhou Miao was outstanding in every way—handsome, sensible, filial, never wasteful despite their wealth, and never spoiled.

Many people had asked him for advice on raising children, but the truth was, he’d just let Zhou Miao grow up freely. He didn’t know a thing about parenting—if he did, he wouldn’t have foolishly sent his son onto that reality show for troubled teens when he started slacking off in his studies.

“How about tomorrow evening? Invite her over for dinner. Since you’ll be a stranger in Beijing, we’ll need to ask her to look after you,” Hong Xue suggested.

Zhou Miao nodded and called Zuo Qiu, inviting her to dinner at their home the next night and asking her to bring the contract.

On the other end of the line, Zuo Qiu was so excited after hanging up that she nearly jumped for joy.

Zhang Liangkuan chuckled, “Don’t celebrate too soon. The ink’s barely dry on the first stroke.”

Zuo Qiu let out a long breath and earnestly thanked him. “I really owe you this time, Uncle Zhang. Without your help, I might not have even gotten to meet Zhou Miao.”

Zhang Liangkuan waved her off. “Your father and I were brothers for years—no need to be so formal. Zhou Miao is a rare talent. Nurture him well and he’ll be a pillar of Rainbow in the future.”

Zuo Qiu nodded firmly.

Looking at her face, so reminiscent of his old friend, Zhang Liangkuan’s tone grew concerned. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Rainbow was your father’s dream, not yours. If you push yourself too hard and burn out, it’ll only sadden him more in the afterlife.”

At his words, Zuo Qiu lowered her head, eyes reddening, but her gaze was fiercely determined. She would never forget her father’s unwillingness as he departed. She had sworn to herself that she would restore Rainbow to its former glory and fulfill her father’s dying wish.