Rebirth: My Reclusive Husband Helps Me Get Revenge!-Chapter 27: Forget about perfection I just want to hear your soul

"Sure you can...but it would make me less of man to let my woman protect herself.."

Lixue gave Mo Ran a quiet glare as she closed the door and quickly walked away from the car, luckily Mo Ran had chosen a very low-key car.

Mo Ran watched Lixue for a while before turning to the driver "Remind me to buy Dream entertainment once we get to Mo Corporations..."

The driver’s lips twitched, he was buying dream entertainment just because the missus was affliated with it.

"Got it young master Mo.."

Lixue adjusted her mask, the amount of eyes that must have caught her and Mo Ran. It would definitely be all over the news the moment she made her debut.

"Y.L I’ve been waiting for you, you have vocals at 10 and then a meeting with your fellow newbie colleagues at 11, you’ll be briefed by your seniors there.."

"Thank you Luo Meiyin..."

She adjusted her mask, brushing aside the glances of a few trainees passing by. Her focus remained on the task at hand.

When she entered the room, Miss Zhang stood beside the piano, scanning a binder filled with music sheets. At the sound of the door, her sharp gaze shifted to Lixue, softening ever so slightly.

You’re on time," Miss Zhang remarked, her tone clipped. "Good. Let’s get started. Warm-ups."

Without waiting for a reply, she played a simple scale on the piano. "Hum it first. Don’t skip proper breathing. Let’s see if you’ve retained anything from your last session."

Lixue adjusted her posture and hummed along with the notes, her voice steady but slightly cautious. Miss Zhang’s ears picked up every hesitation.

"Stop," Miss Zhang said abruptly. "You’re not breathing from your diaphragm. Again, slower this time."

Lixue nodded, placing a hand lightly over her abdomen to monitor her breath as she hummed through the scale once more.

"Better," Miss Zhang said, her tone neutral. "But you’re still hesitating at the higher notes. It’s like you’re afraid of making a mistake. Remember, control comes from confidence. If you sound unsure, the audience will feel unsure. Again."

Lixue repeated the exercise, this time putting more force behind her notes. Miss Zhang gave a small nod, her approval unspoken.

"Now, vowels," Miss Zhang instructed. "Sing ’ah,’ ’ee,’ ’oh,’ and ’oo.’ Keep your tone consistent. No wobbling."

As Lixue sang through the vowels, Miss Zhang stopped her frequently to correct small issues. "You’re dropping your jaw too much on ’ah.’ Keep it rounded. On ’ee,’ relax your tongue; it’s too tense. ’Oh’ is decent, but you’re losing resonance on ’oo.’"

Miss Zhang leaned back slightly once Lixue completed the exercise. "Your tone has potential, but you lack stamina. We’ll work on that."

She handed Lixue a sheet of music, the handwritten notes crisp and neat. "This is what we’ll focus on today. It’s a challenging piece for your current level, but it’ll push you."

Lixue scanned the sheet, recognizing the haunting melody. She took a deep breath and began to sing.

Miss Zhang let her continue for a few lines before holding up a hand. "Stop. You’re cutting your notes short. Those long vowels need to carry. Again, from the beginning."

Lixue sang the verse again, focusing on holding the notes longer. Miss Zhang nodded once but didn’t comment, motioning for her to continue.

By the end of the song, Lixue’s voice had grown steadier, her confidence increasing with each correction. Miss Zhang studied her for a moment, then tapped the piano.

"Not bad," she said. "But ’not bad’ won’t cut it. Your voice has depth, but you’re holding back emotionally. Singing is more than hitting the right notes. You need to connect with the song. Feel the words. Make me believe you."

Miss Zhang closed the sheet music and looked at Lixue with a critical, yet thoughtful expression. "You’re improving, but something is still missing," she said, tapping her finger against the piano. "Technique alone doesn’t make a great singer. Emotion does. Let’s try something different."

Lixue straightened, unsure of what Miss Zhang was about to ask.

"I want you to sing about someone or something you love. Not using the notes on a page. Use your own words, your own feelings," Miss Zhang instructed. "Think of someone who means everything to you. Forget about perfection. I want to hear your soul."

Lixue hesitated, her hands fidgeting slightly. "I don’t know if I can—"

"Of course you can," Miss Zhang cut in firmly. "Close your eyes if you need to. Take a moment, and when you’re ready, sing."

Lixue took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander. She thought of her mother, the woman who had been her rock and light in her darkest days. Memories flooded her—her mother’s gentle smile, her warm embrace, the lullabies she used to hum when Lixue couldn’t sleep

After a moment, she opened her mouth, and a soft melody poured out, unsteady at first but growing stronger with every word.

Her voice cracked slightly on the next line, the emotion overwhelming her, but she didn’t stop.

The room fell silent as her voice faded. Lixue opened her eyes, her cheeks damp with tears she hadn’t realized were falling. She looked at Miss Zhang, embarrassed but unable to hide the raw vulnerability in her expression.

Miss Zhang’s usual stern demeanor softened ever so slightly. She didn’t offer praise or critique right away; instead, she gave a single nod, her voice quieter than before. "Now that was from the heart. That’s the kind of connection I want to hear every time you sing."

Lixue blinked, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "Thank you."

Miss Zhang stood, her sharp gaze returning. "Channel that emotion, but learn to control it. There’s a fine line between heartfelt and messy. You’re not there yet, but this—" she motioned toward Lixue, "—is progress."

She turned back to the piano and began organizing her notes. "That’s enough for today. You’ve done well, but don’t lose this momentum. Practice. Feel. Live in the words."