First, then, love.

The security door closed, and the house became quiet again.

Shu Yao walked to the water dispenser, filled a glass with warm water, and handed it to He Zheng.

He Zheng took the cup, took a sip, and his gaze fell on her somewhat dark eyes.

"Are you rehearsing again tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'm not rehearsing anymore. The final show of this tour is the day after tomorrow at the Jiangcheng Grand Theatre." Shu Yao leaned back on the sofa and rubbed her sore neck.

He Zheng nodded and put down his water glass.

"Keep one ticket for me," he said matter-of-factly.

Shu Yao stopped rubbing her neck.

She turned her head, her peach blossom eyes slightly narrowed, and stared at him for a full ten seconds.

"So I'll save you a ticket? So you can catch up on sleep at the theater?"

Shu Yao sneered and mercilessly exposed his past.

"Last time you came to hear my solo performance, before I had even finished the first movement of Tchaikovsky, your snoring almost shook the VIP seats in the front row to their foundations."

He Zheng remained unfazed.

"We had just arrested someone that day, and I stayed up for three nights straight."

"I don't care how many all-nighters you've stayed up."

Shu Yao stood up straight, crossed her arms, and looked down at him.

"The final performance the day after tomorrow will feature top European music critics. If you dare to doze off in the front row again, you'll never get into a bedroom again."

He Zheng raised an eyebrow. Threatening him?

"Okay, I won't sleep. I'll stay awake until the very end." He readily agreed.

"Just opening your eyes isn't enough; you have to understand."

Shu Yao wasn't buying his act at all.

She knew this man too well. This bandit could go three days and three nights without sleep amidst gunfire, but as soon as he heard classical music, his eyelids would droop as if weighed down by lead.

She turned and strode toward the study.

A moment later, he came out holding a white conductor's baton and a thick stack of musical scores.

"Sit still."

Shu Yao tapped the coffee table with her baton.

He Zheng remained seated on the sofa.

He stood with his legs spread wide, his hands resting on his knees, looking at a child throwing a tantrum with a playful smile on his lips.

"What are you doing?"

"Class begins: a crash course in classical music appreciation."

Shu Yao threw a pile of sheet music on the coffee table, pulled over a chair, and sat down opposite him.

She took out her phone and connected it to the top-of-the-line Bluetooth speaker in the living room.

Press the play button.

A burst of stirring, short, and powerful symphonic music instantly resounded in the spacious living room.

"Clang clang clang!"

Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.

Symphony of Fate.

The God of War was startled by the sudden sound; his dog ears perked up, and he growled a warning growl.

"What is this?" Shu Yao pointed at He Zheng with her baton.

"Beethoven." He Zheng replied without even thinking.

This tune is so overused, even a three-year-old knows it.

"Wrong! This is called fate knocking at the door!"

Shu Yao put on a stern face and began to share her professional knowledge.

"Listen to these four notes! Strong, weak, strong, weak. This represents a person's struggle when facing despair, a collision of darkness and light. You need to feel this suffocating feeling, and then look forward to the explosion that follows with the strings!"

Shu Yao spoke with great emotion and expression.

He Zheng sat opposite him, expressionless.

His deep black eyes were filled with four words: incomprehensible.

"Did you understand?" Shu Yao tapped the table.

"I don't understand," He Zheng replied confidently.

"What don't you understand?"

"I didn't understand anything."

He Zheng leaned forward, pulled a black tactical pen from under the coffee table, and casually tore off a blank sheet of musical notation paper.

"I can't picture any of those abstract, nonsensical things you're talking about."

He held the pen and drew a circle on the paper.

"Try a different approach. Just tell me directly, what is the purpose of this piece?"

Shu Yao was so angry that she laughed instead.

"Okay, I'll try another way."

She took a deep breath and pointed to the melody playing from the speakers.

"Now, this deep, heavy sound comes from the cello and double bass. They are playing the main melody."

"That is, me." Shu Yao pointed to herself.

He Zheng stared at the speakers, his brows furrowed slightly, as if he were thinking seriously.

Two seconds later.

He took the pen and drew a thick line heavily on the paper.

"Understood."

He Zheng raised his head, his eyes shining brightly, as if he had cracked some unparalleled code.

"This cello is used for machine gun cover, isn't it?"

Shu Yao was stunned.

"What?"

"Suppressive firepower." He Zheng tapped the paper with his pen, his tone firm and professional.

"The sound was deep, continuous, and came in waves. This is what it's like on the battlefield: a machine gunner lying prone on a high point, using concentrated firepower to suppress any space for the enemy to look up."

He Zheng pointed at Shu Yao.

"You're the machine gunner. You're in charge of providing covering fire."

Shu Yao opened her mouth, unable to utter a word for a long time.

Before she could refute, the melody from the speakers suddenly changed.

The high-pitched, sharp sound of the violin instantly cut in, like a sharp sword slicing through the low background.

"And this one? A rapid variation on the violin!" Shu Yao persisted, pressing for an answer.

He Zheng's lips curled into a smile.

With his tactical pen, he quickly drew several arrows on the paper, aiming them straight at the flank of the thick line he had just drawn.

"That's easy."

He leaned back, looking confident and composed.

"These are assault troops. The cello fire has suppressed the enemy, and the violin-wielding assault troops are taking the opportunity to flank them. The rapid, sharp sounds indicate that they are quickly infiltrating and preparing for close-quarters combat (CQB)."

Shu Yao's lips began to twitch.

From the speakers came a rapid, muffled timpani sound.

"Thump! Thump thump!"

"Timpani." Shu Yao gritted her teeth, on the verge of collapse.

"Mortar," He Zheng replied instantly.

"The sound is so loud, and the rhythm is so precise. This is a mortar barrage from the rear, conducting a targeted demolition to destroy the enemy's bunker."

A perfect closed loop, without any flaws.

Shu Yao held the white baton, her hands trembling.

She has studied classical music for over twenty years and has listened to countless lectures by masters in the Vienna Musikverein.

This is the first time we've turned a sophisticated symphony into an anti-terrorism drill.

"What about the commander? Commander Lin is waving a bat up there, who does he think he is!" Shu Yao roared.

He Zheng gave her a look that said, "You don't even understand this."

"The frontline commander, he'd have a walkie-talkie in his hand, pointing and firing. With a wave of his hand, the mortars would open fire. If he pointed at you, you'd have to mow him down with a heavy machine gun."

"puff--"

Shu Yao couldn't help herself.

The air of authority he had been maintaining instantly crumbled, and he burst out laughing.

She threw down her baton, clutched her stomach, and collapsed onto the sofa, laughing so hard tears were almost streaming down her face.

"He Zheng...you're simply a genius...If Beethoven heard your theory, he'd be so angry he'd jump out of his coffin and fight you."

As He Zheng watched her laugh heartily, the coldness in his eyes slowly melted away.

He stood up, walked over to her, and sat down next to her.

With a long reach, he pulled the woman, who was laughing so hard she was exhausted, into his arms.

"What are you laughing at? Am I wrong in my analysis?" He lowered his head, his chin brushing against the top of her head.

"Yes...that's so true..." Shu Yao laughed so hard she was breathless, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Did you remember that? The night after tomorrow, you're not allowed to sleep. When you hear the violinist's flanking maneuver, you need to keep your eyes wide open and watch how I, this heavy machine gun, suppress the attack!"

"I've got it."

He Zheng pulled her closer to him and wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes with his fingertips.

"Suppressive fire, flanking maneuver, mortar cover."

He looked at the musical staff on the coffee table, covered with tactical symbols, and spoke in a low, hoarse voice.

"I will never forget this lesson in my life."