In the early morning of January 10th, the sky and the earth closed, and the dripping water turned into ice.

The sound of the car engine in my ears was intertwined with the sound of breaking ice shells, the car windows were filled with water mist, and the sparse gas lights on the street diffused into a blurry orange shadow on the glass.

Fan Ning, who was sitting in the back seat, was lost in thought holding a black and white photo under the dim car lights.

It is twice the size of an ordinary photo, close to the size of a music sheet. However, due to the large number of people included in the lens, the lens position is too far, and the resolution is not ideal, it can only ensure that the facial features of those people you know can be captured.

Identify it.

Stage, echo wall, flowers on the ground, brass decorations and musical instrument stands looming in the distance.

The one in the center is Master Schillings, and on the left and right are Master Niemann and himself;

Kaplan and Olga, second from the left, stood side by side, with unclear smiles on their faces but a clear smile. Little Irene was held in the arms of his wife, not looking at the camera, with her chubby little face looking up into the air, not knowing

What attracted their attention was that further to the left were the Marchioness MacAdam, Elizabeth, Lausanne and Virgil and other singers on stage;

The second from the right is Ms. Hamilton who was guided to stand next to her. The old lady was not supported by anyone. She was leaning on a cane in one hand and holding a thick stack of various blessing cards in the other hand. Her eyes were completely narrowed in laughter. Further to the left was Xi.

Lan, Roy and other vocal principals, Qiong stood on tiptoes and waved the flute excitedly;

On the right are well-dressed and upright dignitaries from the cultural sector. Behind them are several bearded painters. Marais is holding a sketch on his chest showing the exaggerated performance postures of a pianist and conductor.

above their heads.

Directly behind Viadrin and several of his old club members;

Behind on the right are other musicians from the Old Symphony Orchestra;

Then there are the choir boys and girls who lack experience in taking pictures and many of them close their eyes;

A large number of familiar students from the University of Saint-Lenia in the rear left;

There are many lucky music fans whom I don’t know;

At the very back of the crowd, Lu opened his arms upwards and stretched out two timpani sticks high...

"What's going on?" Realizing that the vehicle had been idling for a while, Fan Ning put away the photo and looked up.

"Sir, the traffic is quite serious near the church," the driver responded.

Fan Ning saw the many black raincoats and the back of the carriage in front of the windshield, and then he realized that the car had passed the west gate of the University of San Lenia, and the Lyuffenas Garden Cemetery where Teacher Anton was buried was behind it.

.

"It's okay, Sheeran, let's get off the car."

When the leather shoes stepped on the ice-water mixture on the ground, they made lead-gray ripples and cracks.

Fan Ning walked around from the back of the car to the other side. He opened the black umbrella and took the girl out with the hand guard on the top of the door. As the cold wind blew, the two of them merged into the crowd and walked along the west direction, crossing the lawn and the square.

, go through the oak street.

He seemed to see the vast blue sky, the snow-white outer walls of the Cathedral of St. Lenia, the white stone brick steps, and the dazzling light of the sun reflected on the raised sphere in the middle of the pointed arch.

But that was just a few days after graduation, when I visited this place to explore the life of the old organist.

The eyes moved all the way from the rain curtain to the distance. The church was filled with bouquets from the first step. Their borders had been contaminated by sewage, and many petals were blown to deviated positions by the wind. But upward, pure

The white or light yellow color blocks are gradually piled up in an orderly and unified manner, and it seems that even if you accidentally slip here, you will not be contaminated with dirt.

Fan Ning handed the umbrella to Sheeran and squatted down in front of the steps.

He saw that some of the bouquets had stickers with crooked and childish handwriting, only names and times.

The time period is concentrated between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m.

And now... He raised his head and stared at the big clock higher on the arch. It was already twenty past six.

In the cold early morning, they came here 1-2 hours early, put the bouquets on the steps instead of delivering them to the church, and left in a hurry without stopping. There is only one possible destination for these people -

They are ready to enter the workshop to work.

The two started to line up, and the staff at the door immediately recognized Fan Ning's identity.

Fan Ning chose a seat on the edge of the third row and sat down. Xilan looked at the flowers on the altar and was lost in thought: "Carolen, one of the few old friends of my father has passed away."

"The organist Vienne and the poet Bassani, Teacher Anton and the old lady Hamilton, yes..." Fan Ning's eyes drifted away, "That era is already old times, people can't live that long, it's either an accident or

It’s aging, except for Bassani’s two students who have broken through to the enlightenment, they can have two or three more years.”

"Ten years is a long time, and I also want to become a Knower in the future." Sheeran used a small curse seal spread out on the palm of his hand to express that he had been the first to be promoted to the middle position during the training at Qiming Church.

level.

"Do you hope you live longer than me?" Fan Ning asked.

"Yes." The girl nodded seriously, "I came to your funeral, because this role is not easy to play, so I don't want you to play it."

Fan Ning remained silent.

"Caron..." Sheeran called him again.

"how?"

"If a person dies, many people spontaneously commemorate her, her past is remembered by many people, and there is even one person who is still alive who is particularly sad for her... In this way, will she definitely be better than 'no one cares about her?

How can the dead who have no one commemorate or remember them be less lonely?"

"You think so because I told you my hidden knowledge about 'G' that night?"

Sheeran said "Yeah".

"I don't know." Fan Ning shook his head, "I understand 'ge', but I don't understand how it is related to myself. Many artists who were lonely during their lifetimes will not be lonely because of the commemoration of future generations. What if?

In this case, I may have to worry about the end of the world even after I die, because in that case, everyone will die, and there will be no distinction between who is the deceased and who is the remembrancer. Who will recognize and protect my "character"...

"

It was Sheeran's turn to remain silent.

"So do you believe in the existence of aberration zones or the end of the world?" Fan Ning looked into her eyes.

"I believe in the abnormal zone, but I don't believe in the end of the world." The little girl replied.

"What does it mean…"

"Death is the end of the world, all deaths are, and there is no more special day."

"Including individual death?"

"It refers to the death of an individual." Sheeran lowered his head, "Everyone thinks that death takes away this special period of life in the world and takes away the moments of sharing with others... In fact, this is

It’s just the perspective of others, but for the deceased himself, taking away the whole world feels like the end of the world.”

"What insights did 'Desolation' bring to you?" Fan Ning felt that this was a point of view worth sharing, "But... we don't know what it feels like after death..."

"I probably know."

"You know?" Fan Ning said in surprise.

Xilan said "Yeah": "There is an easy way. Do you want to try it?"

"want."

"Imagine what it was like before you were born, in time, space, and all the senses."

"The feeling I had before I was born..." Fan Ning imagined with her eyes closed.

After opening his eyes, he saw the girl sitting next to him bending over and looking at him from a close distance.

"Does it look like the end of the world?" she asked.

"I want to write the tonality of each movement of the Second Symphony further and further away, and never let it return to the key of C minor." Fan Ning thought for a moment.

"Why?"

"A kind of resistance, against the nothingness that is homogeneous at both ends. If a symphony is a world, or can be seen as a life-like organism, do you want its evolution and development to be free?

Traces of will?"

"Hopefully, so it doesn't eventually return to its origins?" Sheeran said.

"It's hard to guarantee not to return to the origin, but there must be greatness and sublimation, otherwise everything will be reincarnated in vain, and nihilism will make people depressed again."

The girl nodded thoughtfully, and then said, "Caron, I don't want to attend the next funeral anymore."

Fan Ning understood what he was referring to in a blink of an eye. He took a deep breath and reached out to stroke her back.

After the funeral officially began at seven in the morning, the two of them listened in silence to the eulogy and the narrator's reminiscences.

The narrator believes that the old lady Hamilton "loves every concrete person, not an abstract person." This makes Fan Ning wonder whether abstract death is worth discussing, or concrete death is more worthy of discussion.

Then, the organ stopped playing. I don’t know if it was a coincidence or something else. The old lady’s last wish seemed to have been the same as Vienne’s.

The deceased lay solemnly under garlands and flowers. A black curtain covered the high brass body. A small choir of 24 people took the stage and sang an unaccompanied four-part plain song.

It is easy to hear that the high-pitched melody comes from a medieval church hymn.

The sound is solemn, tranquil, without any impurities. Even the short pauses in the music when the choir takes a breath are as natural and pure as the changing light intensity.

The lyrics filled in are a short poem of only two stanzas and eight lines by the poet Bassani.

Fan Ning suddenly trembled violently all over.
To be continued...