One of the most frustrating scenes in Episode 9 of Four Hands, Two Sonatas begins with a number.
Kang Bi-o is rehearsing Choi Jeong-yo’s new concerto. Jeong-yo tells him he is playing too slowly.
So Bi-o adjusts.
Then Jeong-yo says he is too fast.
Finally, an irritated Bi-o points to the obvious problem: the score says 160, and he practiced it at exactly 160.
So what does Jeong-yo actually want?
That question may reveal more about Bi-o’s slump than the number itself.
Bi-o Is Technically Right
From Bi-o’s perspective, his frustration makes perfect sense.
There is a written tempo.
He practiced that tempo.
He can reproduce it.
Yet the composer standing in front of him keeps saying something is wrong.
Bi-o wants Jeong-yo to give him the correct answer.
What tempo should he play?
But Jeong-yo refuses to solve the problem with another number.
Instead, he tells Bi-o to feel the rhythm with his heart.
That sounds almost unfair.
But Jeong-yo’s criticism becomes clearer when we connect it to something he said earlier in the rehearsal.
Why does Bi-o play every phrase beautifully?
And why is he still trapping himself inside his armor?
The problem may not be whether Bi-o can play 160.
The problem is that 160 has become a hiding place.
Why “Correct” Is Not Enough for Jeong-yo
Bi-o knows how to prepare.
Give him a difficult score and he can study it.
Give him a technical problem and he can practice until he solves it.
Give him a tempo marking and he can reproduce it.
Those abilities helped make him an elite pianist.
But Jeong-yo is asking for something that cannot be solved simply by following instructions.
The concerto has conflict inside it.
At times, the pianist has to push against an orchestra of around 100 musicians. At other moments, the pianist has to cooperate with them.
That relationship cannot feel alive if Bi-o treats every moment exactly the same.
This is why Jeong-yo’s “too slow” and “too fast” comments are so interesting.
He may not literally be asking Bi-o to find a different fixed number.
He is asking him to stop treating tempo as the answer.
160 can be written on the page.
It cannot tell Bi-o what the music is feeling.
The “Retort Food” Line Explains Everything
Then Jeong-yo uses one of Episode 9’s strangest metaphors.
Music, he says, is not a finished product that can simply be reheated like retort food.
It is a harsh comparison.
But it describes exactly what he thinks has happened to Bi-o.
Bi-o has prepared everything in advance.
The notes are ready.
The tempo is ready.
The technique is ready.
The performance is polished.
But Jeong-yo does not want Bi-o to bring him something already sealed and finished.
He wants something to happen in the moment.
That is why playing at exactly 160 can still be “wrong.”
The number is correct.
The performance may still be emotionally frozen.
Bi-o’s Real Problem Is His Armor
This also explains why Jeong-yo uses the word “armor.”
Bi-o’s precision protects him.
If he follows the score perfectly, he has something objective to rely on.
If someone criticizes him, he can point to the notes.
He can point to the tempo.
He can point to years of training.
But emotion offers no such protection.
Playing from somewhere more personal means taking a risk.
And Bi-o has spent years carrying guilt, pressure and a slump that made that risk increasingly difficult.
Jeong-yo seems determined to remove that protection.
Not because Bi-o lacks technique.
Almost the opposite.
Bi-o’s technique is so strong that he can hide behind it.
Why Jeong-yo Keeps Pushing Him
This makes the rehearsal much more than a conductor being unnecessarily cruel to a pianist.
Jeong-yo already knows Bi-o can play.
He does not need proof that Bi-o can follow a score or maintain a demanding tempo.
What he wants is the part of Bi-o that cannot be measured by a metronome.
That is why his criticism sounds contradictory.
Too slow.
Too fast.
Too beautiful.
Too controlled.
Taken literally, the instructions seem impossible.
But perhaps that is the point.
Bi-o keeps asking:
“What is the correct way to play this?”
Jeong-yo is trying to make him ask a different question:
“What am I trying to say with this music?”
That difference is the heart of the scene.
So Why Was 160 Wrong?
It wasn’t.
And that may be the cleverest part of the scene.
160 was not necessarily the mistake.
Believing that 160 was the complete answer was.
Bi-o had mastered the measurable part of the music.
Jeong-yo wanted the part that could not be measured.
That is why this rehearsal matters so much to Bi-o’s story.
For most of his life, he has survived in a world where being correct mattered enormously.
Correct notes.
Correct technique.
Correct tempo.
Correct results.
But Jeong-yo is now asking him to do something much more frightening.
Stop trying to be correct for a moment.
Listen.
React.
Take a risk.
And play.
The metronome can tell Bi-o when he has reached 160.
Only Bi-o can decide what happens after that.