In the past few days, Fan Ning's vote count has been soaring by two to three thousand every day!
Before the special concert, he and Meric had over 10,000 votes, while Fanning had less than 5,000, even less than Maugham. Today, he and Meric had about 12,000 votes, and Fanning had already exceeded 10,000! There are still four days to go.
time!
Cecil's expression was a little annoyed, and he was waiting for Julius' explanation.
Julius spoke slowly: "The most influential "Tioline Cultural Weekly", the music editor personally gave such a high evaluation, which ignited the potential scandal buried in last year's music salon, and the large and small media outlets all
Follow up. You said that "Ufranser Art Review" suddenly criticized Fanning at this time. Is the atmosphere normal? Is it possible to suppress his votes or cause a backlash? Mr. Cecil, although music fans appreciate it
Levels vary, but I’m not a fool!”
"But if you read the last paragraph carefully, you can find out what kind of position is hidden in it. If Fanning chooses to inherit Anton Konard's style in the "First Symphony", he will be the best in this chamber music.
The accolades achieved are in danger of collapse.”
Cecil thought it seemed reasonable, but still asked: "What if he really got rid of his contact with Professor Anton completely and maintained a good standard?"
"Sir Cecil, you are indeed still too young. The pen is in the hands of the music critic. You can write whatever you want. If he really gets rid of it, I can also say that he has not got rid of it..."
Speaking of this, Julius smiled calmly: "I mentioned this topic in that article first, purely for paving the way, so that the subsequent attack would not be so sudden...In the face of people who are in the limelight and are rising against the trend, instead of going
In a head-on confrontation, it is better to go with the flow and bury the trap in the next stage..."
Time flies by to January 31st, and the voting results are about to become a foregone conclusion. Music fans are walking in and out of the new work exhibition hall, but Fan Ning is not among them.
South Pier District, Riverside Street area.
"Caron, I'm almost stunk to death." In the dark night, the two of them walked along the river bank.
Scattered gas lamps swayed with green light on the putrid water, opposite the vague gray river bank.
Fan Ning looked at the back of the little man wearing a soft hat a few meters in front of him, and curled his lips: "Come to think of it, we must have been walking for more than an hour, and my nose has no need to adapt."
It was already half an hour ago that the road was full of dilapidated buildings, bad roads, dilapidated warehouses and putrid garbage. It was already half an hour ago that he passed through the slums. If he didn't experience it for himself, Fan Ning might find it hard to believe that there is such a thing in Uvranser.
Such a large and messy area - its occurrence is unimaginable, its existence is meaningless, and it gives people the illusion that no matter how much money is spent, it cannot be managed well.
"You mean turn left at this place?" Joan's footsteps stopped, and the huge steel support collapsed sideways, first sealing the dead end, and then immersed in the river.
"This symbol should be unmistakable." After Fan Ning finished speaking, the two of them turned their heads to the left.
This direction is not a road, but... a river.
Fan Ning frowned and looked around. Looking into the rancid river, there seemed to be many warehouses floating in the water. They were red, blue, and black, large and small. Some were connected, some were separated, and some were stacked. Their appearance was similar to those in the previous life.
Containers.
At least more than 100 meters from the shore.
"Caron, can you swim?" Joan asked.
Fan Ning glanced at the girl helplessly, and was impressed by her clear thinking again: "Is this a problem we should consider?"
My vision got closer and closer, and finally I saw something like a bamboo raft at the foot of the shore, and... poles...
He kicked a few times and kicked a piece of the raft into the river. He hurriedly took a few steps back to avoid the splash of smelly water.
Then he stepped forward, raised his feet and tried to press a few times.
"It feels quite sturdy. Two people can use one...but I'm mainly worried about whether this thing will fall apart..."
"I can keep it from falling apart..." Joan said.
"I forgot, this can be regarded as a kind of wound." Fan Ning picked up the pole, handed one to Qiong, and stood up first, "Come on."
The two of them stood face to face on the small raft, carefully paddling through the smelly water, and the sticky garbage on the river floated past them.
The distance of just over a hundred meters felt extremely long.
"I seem to have some impression of this place." Qiong suddenly said while paddling.
"Have you really swum here?" Fan Ning felt uncomfortable and tried to make a joke.
"That's not true, but the environment at that time meant that swimming was not impossible... When I was a child, this place was a natural fishing ground. Later, a layer of ground was laid lower than the river bank and turned into a dock. Later, some warehouses were built.
, I don’t know why it became like this in the end..."
She lowered her head and looked at the rancid river water, "We are not far from the river bank now. In fact, the water depth should only be one or two meters."
Fan Ning said: "So those box-like things were warehouses on the dock, but then the river overflowed. Well, at least it was more psychologically acceptable. At first I thought it was a cesspool a hundred meters deep, which made me
The hand holding the pole keeps shaking."
The two set off very early. After the raft docked at the aisle at the back of the warehouse complex, Fan Ning asked Qiong to get on first and he would wait for a while before following.
In a warehouse, Fan Ning changed into "equipment" similar to the previous party. He walked through several aisles across the water, climbed the winding stairs, and arrived at a small warehouse stacked high.
"Can't you choose a more pleasant gathering place? I have already vomited all my dinner into the river."
Fanning heard the complaints from "Experience Officer" Erov.
"Didn't this guy get hit by a stray bullet from Monroe's pistol, and then the ice sculpture was hit by a shotgun blast? Look at how energetic he is, how well he recovered?..."
In the originally dark room, a high-power electric light was somehow forced in, illuminating people's eyes suddenly. The smell was still unpleasant, but the conference tables and chairs looked quite clean.
Fan Ning met Sylvia again wearing a golden mask.
Several pairs of eyes stared at him, and he continued to pronounce his codename the same way he did last time: "Mendeleev."
"Mr. Mendeleev, I finally see you again. Happy New Year and good evening!"
Zi Dou Cao's voice was trembling with joy.
Fan Ning smiled softly: "Good evening", and then sat opposite the little girl wearing a large cloak.
Sylvia responded to the previous experience officer's complaints with a sweet smile: "If you asked how many people who violated the prohibition were shot by the Special Patrol Office before and after the New Year, you wouldn't complain like this. The recent rumors are very tight."
"Where can the Special Patrol Office find so many knowledgeable people to be shot? You think they are slaughtering ducks." The perfumer's voice was full of teasing.
"Those guys have intermittent convulsions like this, which is really not conducive to us making new friends." The experience officer shrugged.
"At least I hope my old friends can come as promised," Sylvia said.
About five minutes before the party started, another person came, and then Fan Ning counted in a circle silently.
"Sylvia, perfumer, experience officer, Joan... plus five of me, and this one should be the agent now... Well, if no new person comes over to get rid of the dead Professor Lorraine, this time it should be
A gathering of six people…”
Several people were shivering from the cold. When the party was about to start, the experience officer muttered again: "Damn it, the translator is usually the first or second to arrive. Did something happen to this guy later?"
"Sorry to keep you waiting for so long."
An old, dull voice sounded, and everyone looked at the door, where another man in a cloak stood.