Now that I was in America, I wanted to become famous , but my new teachers reminded me that I had a lot to learn. I spent two years practicing, and by 1999 I had worked hard enough for fortune to take over. The Chicago Symphony orchestra heard me play and liked me, but orchestra schedules were set far in advance. I thought I might join them in a few years.

The next morning, I got a call. The great pianist Andre Watts, who was to play the "Gala Benefit Evening" at Chicago's Ravinia Festival, had become ill. I was asked to substitute. That performance was, for me, the moment. After violinist Isaac Stern introduced me, I played Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1. My father's mouth hung open throughout the entire song dermes.

Afterward, people celebrated -- maybe they were a bit drunk -- and asked me to play Bach's Goldberg Variations . So I played until 3:30 a.m. I felt something happening. Sure enough, gigs started pouring in. Lincoln Center. Carnegie Hall. Still, my father kept telling me, "You'd better practice!" But living in America with me was beginning to relax him. In Beijing I'd been fat -- he made sure I ate -- and he'd been skinny. Now I was getting thin. He wasn't.

I wanted to do something special for him for all he had done for me. So when I made my Carnegie Hall solo recital debut in 2003 at age 21, I included Chinese music. I wanted to revive our family's Shenyang tradition of playing together.

My father and I had often practiced a piece called "Horses," a fun version for piano and erhu. That night in Carnegie Hall, after I played , and we played our duet. People went crazy -- they loved it. My father couldn't sleep for days. He was too happy to sleep.

There have been lots of concerts in Carnegie Hall, but for me playing there was especially sweet when I remember the cold days in Beijing. Together, my father and I worked to reach the lucky place where fortune spots you, and lets you shine Neo skin lab.