Rossweise glanced skeptically at the phonograph, then stood up smoothly and headed toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Leon asked from behind her.
While slipping on her elegant outdoor slippers, the queen replied without turning, "If you truly wish to use music for prenatal education, relying solely on a machine that merely replays sound will not do. There is no live artistic merit to it."
"Are you saying the phonograph itself lacks artistic merit, or that our cherished human classic pieces have none?" General Leon was, as always, exceptionally skilled at picking fights and finding the most provocative interpretation.
"Hmph, idiot." A faint smile touched her lips. "Today, I will show you what true taste means in dragon culture."
Leon smirked, crossing his arms. "Fine, let me see what you are made of, mother dragon."
Five minutes later, the couple arrived at the dedicated music room within the sanctuary. Even after living here for five or six years, Leon was not very familiar with this particular chamber. Unlike Rossweise's private study or their shared bedroom, this music room was rarely locked, but it also seemed seldom used. Even Rossweise herself hardly ever visited to play the instruments stored within.
Leon understood why. For a consummate workaholic like her, all her thoughts and energy were devoted to managing her tribe. After their marriage, she also had a family to care for, leaving even less time to cultivate personal artistic hobbies.
Rossweise pushed open the heavy oak door, and Leon followed her inside. The music room was spacious and bright, with the rich, golden hues of the setting sun pouring in through the grand floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, honeyed glow over the impressive array of precious instruments on display.
Though it was called a "music room," it housed much more than just a piano. There were flutes, cellos, guzhengs, and other exquisite instruments from various cultures arranged tastefully around the room. With Rossweise's long lifespan, it was not difficult for her to have picked up proficiency in a few instruments here and there. After all, one could never have too many skills.
"A phonograph merely preserves and replays sound, losing some of the original soul and flavor in the process," she remarked casually while lifting the polished cover of the grand piano and taking a seat on the velvet-covered bench.
Her hands moved slowly from the center of the keyboard outward, her slender fingers pressing down on the keys in a deliberate, testing sequence. Though not playing any specific tune, each note resounded with perfect clarity and beauty. It was clearly a master-crafted, impeccably maintained instrument.
"But a live performance," she continued, a glint of challenge in her eyes, "might just have more heart, and perhaps appeal more to our fourth baby."
Truthfully, Rossweise did not care much about formal prenatal education. She had absolute, inherent confidence in the potential of her dragon offspring. Even if they started cultivating talents after birth, it would not be too late. The only reason she was indulging in this now was to humor her wonderfully childish husband and pass the time pleasantly. That was all. At least, that is what the queen firmly told herself.
As Rossweise sat at the piano, posture poised and elegant, Leon leaned casually against its glossy side, folding his arms. He teased, "Is this supposed to be a demonstration of a hidden skill?"
"Hmph?" she replied, a single eyebrow arched.
"Oh, I get it now," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"You always do. What is it this time?" she asked, playing along.
"Playing music for the baby is just an excuse. You really just wanted to show off your talents in front of the man you love, did not you?"
"Keep talking, Leon, and I will use this top-tier piano to rearrange your thick skull," she retorted, though her tone lacked any real threat.
Leon chuckled and motioned for her to continue. "Alright, Your Majesty, please begin your performance. I am all ears."
Rossweise ignored his final jibe, bowed her head slightly, and let her gaze sweep across the row of black and white keys before beginning to play in earnest. Though she had not touched the piano in a long time, her muscle memory and inherent skill had not rusted. The first few bars came with slight hesitations, but she quickly found her rhythm, becoming fully immersed in the melody she conjured.
In the glorious glow of the setting sun, the silver-haired queen sat upright at the piano, her entire figure bathed in a soft, crimson halo. The music flowed like a gentle stream, the notes flitting about like graceful butterflies dancing among spring flowers. The sound was elegant, the melody enchanting.
Even Leon, who knew little about the technicalities of music, found himself utterly captivated by the gentle, complex tune, completely absorbed. He leaned against the piano, lightly tapping his knee in time with the music. Before he knew it, the piece had ended.
"Well? Is not this far more sophisticated than your scratchy human recordings?" Rossweise asked, a note of smug satisfaction in her voice.
"It is alright, I guess," Leon replied, deliberately underwhelmed.
"A simple, honest compliment from my husband would have been nice, but no—our Melkvey family tradition is to be insufferably cheeky," she sighed, feigning exasperation.
Naturally, Leon would not simply shower her with straightforward praise. It was part of their game.
"Tch, I think you simply lack the taste to appreciate true human artistry," he quipped back.
"I will play another piece, then," she declared, "to cleanse that rotten, outdated soul of yours."
Without waiting for a response, Rossweise's fingers danced across the keys once more, conjuring another mesmerizing melody from the instrument.
Leon stayed silent this time, simply enjoying the performance in peace. Watching a beautiful woman play the piano was indeed a profound pleasure, especially when that woman happened to be his wife. A surge of fierce pride swelled within him—pride in the simple, wonderful fact that his wife was so multitalented and amazing. When a man steps outside, he thought to himself, it is not the size of his wallet that gives him true confidence. It is the quality of his wife.
However, just as Leon was basking most contentedly in the music, Rossweise spoke up without missing a note, "You are just going to listen? If our fourth baby is only exposed to dragon music, they might grow up with zero appreciation for human artistry. Your little human tricks might become a lost art in this family, Leon."
Her playful warning sent a slight chill down his spine. She had a point. If she continued to dominate the prenatal music sessions, the baby might end up fully aligned with dragon culture, aesthetically speaking. Leon felt he had learned his lesson from the haphazard prenatal education before Aurora's birth. This time, he was determined to turn things around.
"Alright, mother dragon, watch and learn," he announced, pushing himself off the piano. "I will show you what a real gap in artistic taste looks like."
Rossweise raised a skeptical eyebrow but maintained her regal composure. "Oh? I would love to see what you have got, general."
Leon dramatically swished his robe—a garment wholly unsuited for swishing—and bolted out of the room. Rossweise had no idea what he was planning but felt a deep certainty that it could not be anything ordinary.
Ten minutes later, Leon returned, holding a mysterious, lumpy cloth bag.
He placed it on the piano with a soft thud, unzipped it, and pulled out a truly peculiar instrument. At first glance, it somewhat resembled a flute—but the end flared out broadly, like a miniature trumpet.
"What in the world is that?" Rossweise asked, genuinely puzzled. She stopped playing. "Where did you even find such a thing?"
"I made it myself," Leon declared proudly. "Hah, you dragons are so uncultured when it comes to the expansive world of art. You have never even seen such a sophisticated instrument."
Rossweise rolled her eyes spectacularly. "Sophisticated, my foot. I have never seen anything so bizarre-looking."
Leon spun the instrument expertly in his hands and launched into an explanation. "This is something my old master learned from the mysterious eastern lands! It is an instrument of immense versatility, perfect for weddings, funerals, celebrations, or tragedies!"
Rossweise remained deeply skeptical but resumed her piano playing, filling the room with a gentle sonata. "Go on, then. Let us see if it can impress me."
Leon smirked, raised the strange instrument to his lips, took a deep breath, and blew.
A sharp, piercing, and overwhelmingly loud sound burst forth, completely drowning out the delicate notes of the piano.
SKREEEEE-EE-ONK!
Rossweise winced, her hands freezing above the keys. "Stars above, does that thing even have a volume control? It is deafening!"
"It does not need any!" Leon declared triumphantly between blasts.
The discordant, wailing notes of the instrument filled the room, making Rossweise grimace and cover one ear. "This is not a demonstration of a gap in artistic taste—this is an auditory invasion!"
"Afraid now, mother dragon?" Leon teased, lowering the instrument briefly.
"What is that thing even called?" she demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at it. "Starting tomorrow, I am banning it across the entire Silver Dragon territory!"
Leon grinned smugly. "Hah, you could not ban it even if you tried. This, my dear wife," he announced with a flourish, "is the mighty suona!" He then turned pointedly to Rossweise's rounded abdomen and added cheerfully, "Alright, baby number four, pay attention! We are learning this one next!"
Rossweise let out a long, defeated sigh, rubbing her temples and then her abdomen soothingly. "Do not worry, little one. Do not listen to your father. He is... wonderfully eccentric. Let us just humor him for now, okay?"