Congreve was waiting at the desk. After seeing Fan Ning hang up the phone, he quickly handed over a signature form.
The two generals of the Turner Art Hall are away, and a large number of affairs have fallen on him. Recently, he has been working until midnight every day.
Fan Ning took it.
Seeing the music director holding a pen in his hand and looking like he was reading carefully, he began to explain the report.
The words drifted into Fan Ning's ears and came out from the other side.
The phone call said that starting from the next week, Kaplan's bone pain became a minor problem and he began to fall into frequent drowsiness. Olga moved a gramophone into the ward and selected some records of his favorite works.
, and the several records released by Turner Hall of Art were played one by one. This method had a good effect at first.
The long-lost music came to his ears. Kaplan listened very carefully. After waking up, he would immediately ask what time it was and how many days were left until the premiere. He would even look at the score for a while.
However, the good effect didn't last long. In the past two or three days, he basically didn't eat much, and the time he was awake and able to communicate with people became shorter and shorter. He basically woke up about three or four times a day, less than one at a time.
I fell asleep again when I was young, and this time was not as long as the performance of "Second Symphony".
Maybe, I can at least hold on until tomorrow and come and listen to it. I can insist on a few movements.
Congreve finished his report.
"Sorry, what were you talking about just now?" Fan Ning raised his head, his face full of apology.
"...It doesn't matter, Mr. Fanning." Congreve spoke quickly and re-reported carefully, "It's about the decision on the fourth temporary seat addition. The previous five days of sales were split on the ticketing day.
After the show, we received a lot of suggestions from music fans and people in the music industry. Their voices were so strong that we even asked the cultural department to communicate with them. So we added three waves of seats with low stools in the corridors, between boxes, around the stage and other places.
There are 700 seats in total. I have reported this to you before... Now that it is sold out, the request has come again. I would like to ask if you want to agree to them for another round. I have just made measurements on the spot. If there is more squeeze,
I should be able to barely fit in about 200 low stools, and they can be arranged during the day tomorrow..."
Fan Ning held the pen and kept nodding.
After thinking about this for three minutes, he spoke:
"The pricing plan is right, it's up to you to decide. I've been working hard on you recently."
".Ok, I see."
Listening to Fan Ning's completely unanswered response, Congreve shook his head secretly and took the order to leave.
It wasn't until the door was closed that a low sigh came from the corridor.
Inside the door, Fan Ning held the score of "Second Symphony" in his hand and slowly leaned back in his seat.
After staring at the deathly darkness and warm light on the cover for a long time, I prepared to open it with my fingers, but with some hesitation he retracted it, avoiding the memories related to it and turning to more broken and empty thoughts.
This daze lasted until late at night.
There were two gentle "dong dong" sounds outside the door.
"Who?" Fan Ning asked aloud.
The night before today's performance, there were quite a few people staying here to rest or prepare for work.
"I." It was Joan's voice.
"The door is unlocked."
A girl in a violet dress walked up to Fan Ning holding a sparkling silver flute.
"Caron, the visual sealing elixir you want." She spread out her left hand, with a small glass tube on it.
"Zhuzi is doing well." Fan Ning picked up the elixir from her palm.
"It's still the same proportion of effective extraordinary components as in previous weeks. It takes effect about an hour after taking it, and returns to normal after half an hour... However, this is already the fifth or sixth time. Have you used it in the end?
And if there is such a need, why don't you just close your eyes?"
"boom."
An invisible force squeezed gently, and the glass seal shattered with a sound.
There was only a little over 1 ml of colorless liquid inside, and Fan Ning poured it into a porcelain cup with a small half cup of boiled water.
After doing all this, his eyes dropped again.
"Thank you, go and have some rest. Good night."
After a few seconds of silence, Fan Ning asked, "Is there anything else?"
Qiong put her toes together and bit her lip, seeming hesitant about what to say.
Finally she said: "I want to play with you the Sicilian Dances from the flute sonatas you haven't finished yet."
Fan Ning looked up in surprise.
Speaking of which, it seems that since the New Year, it has been a long time since I had a casual chat, nor have I had any pure fun and relaxation with everyone, even though I see each other in the rehearsal hall every day.
There are only a handful of people who can attend afternoon tea, and even most of my meals are taken care of by the maids directly here.
So Fan Ning stood up without saying a word.
He moved out of his seat, opened the door to the living room, and sat in front of the grand piano.
Qiong followed step by step, and finally stood beside him.
The sound of the flute rises melodiously, and behind the piano, the keys fall in a tacit and considerate dance.
Bach's "Sonata for Flute and Harpsichord No. 2 in E flat major" (BWV.1031), second movement, "Sicilian Dance".
The melody is soft, pure, with a hint of sadness, and the black and white keys as a foil are always woven with elegant and unknown reveries and thoughts.
Quiet gardens, tree-lined paths, warm and slightly drunken autumn.
The girl lifts up her gauze skirt and spins and dances, while those accompanying her watch the sun shining down and the fallen leaves fluttering.
The world is a golden place.
The song ends after two minutes.
Fan Ning raised his hand, stood up, and returned to the office to sit down, while Qiong continued to follow obediently.
"They will be arranged for the chamber music performance next month, so let's rest first."
Joan's eyes changed several times, and finally she spoke as if she had made up her mind: "Carolen, can I take a day off?"
Fan Ning's expression of surprise flashed: "Tomorrow? You won't be able to come to the premiere?"
"...Maybe so." She had a very guilty look on her face, "Caron, I feel very sorry for you, but maybe after a few days, I can find a way to make it up to you later, okay? For example, all the concert fees will go to you.
kind……"
Fan Ning asked after a moment of silence.
"whats the matter?"
"...it's a personal matter, can I tell you after I get back?"
Fan Ning reluctantly suppressed all the negative emotions and said calmly: "If it is a very urgent matter, I think you can just leave and deal with it, and come back to explain later, or tell me to ask for help; if not, then you should wait for the premiere
Deal with it after it's over, rather than letting things slip at such a critical moment."
"So, no matter what the situation is, there is actually no need for you to take leave, what do you think?"
"Oh." Joan lowered her head.
"Good night then, I... I'll take a look tomorrow. I should still attend the premiere..."
She stepped on her toes and moved out of the room step by step.
Fan Ning nodded slightly, and after she stepped out of the door, she said again: "There is no need to close the door. Ask Xilan to come over."
"oh…"
A few minutes later, Sheeran, who had already changed into a gauze nightgown, walked into the office.
"Carolne, Joan said you asked me to come over." Her long brown hair was draped over her shoulders, still carrying a slight moisture and fragrance.
"Sit." Fan Ning pointed to the chair opposite, "Do you know why she asked for leave?"
"Ask for leave? I don't know?" Xilan sat down doubtfully, "Did you agree?"
"Perhaps she didn't agree, but she said she would still attend the premiere."
"Oh, she always thinks about it. Caroln, why don't you go to bed and you suddenly want to chat with me so late today?"
"Let me discuss something with you. Are you willing to give violin lessons to little Irene in the future? A formal teacher-student relationship."
When the girl heard this, her originally bright eyes dimmed.
"Is Mr. Capron okay?"
"..., this may not be the most ideal, but I think it will be fine for me to meet him tomorrow." Fan Ning lowered his eyes and recounted the contents of the call with Olga.
"That's good, I'll just listen to your arrangements." She breathed a sigh of relief.
"As you please."
"Yes, I'm happy to."
"Okay." Fan Ning lowered his head and moved his fingers aimlessly on the table.
Although he had never witnessed it with his own eyes, the image of Capron listening to the phonograph on the hospital bed still appeared in his mind.
"Sheeran, do you sometimes feel that there are so many wonderful musical works in this world that you can never listen to them all in a lifetime?"
"Of course." Sheeran didn't know why he suddenly felt so emotional, but nodded in agreement, "Actually, I'm embarrassed to say frankly that although everyone calls me a genius violinist, and some even call me 'famous', the vast music literature,
I am familiar with only a few parts, and I am not familiar with others. There are many, many pieces of music, and I don’t know how they sound. If you show me a piece of music score, I can’t match it with the title of the work, the name of the movement, or the name of the prologue.
, you may not even be able to guess which composer’s work it is…”
"But I feel very lucky to have been born in this industrial age. If I had been born even half a century earlier, the only two ways I would have heard a non-solo piece would have been to attend a concert or support a family band. But now, although
Phonographs and records are also very expensive, but at least music has become something within reach - you can listen to a symphony at any time while lying on the sofa or big bed at home, let alone the old people of the previous era.
, even when I think about it sometimes, I feel fantastic.”
Fan Ning pondered for a moment: "Have you ever thought that one day, more people will be able to listen to music in a cheaper and more convenient way, such as picking up a small machine or wearing a small device, which can make people accumulate music?"
A profound master, or a group of musicians who work well together to present their genius and ingenuity to you?"
"In that case..." Sheeran thought briefly, "Such happiness is unreal. Maybe it can happen in heaven, and it is more practical. Then I may really be able to listen to most of the music literature in my lifetime, although there are endless masters.
, the number is huge, but I make a plan, take that magical little device, listen to a little every day, listen to a little every day, and one day I will be able to read a lot..."
"Really, I don't think so." Fan Ning looked out the window in trance.
"Music is pure, people are not pure, procrastination is one aspect, and the lowering of technical threshold will cause the recording stock to develop explosively. Interest will be attracted by other styles that are more exciting and intense, and the entertainment threshold will be raised higher and higher.
...Do you think the actual situation is like this: when we were young, we held that magical little device and felt that the time ahead was too long. We thought that when we had free time, we would appreciate the works we planned to learn about, but suddenly one day we discovered that time
It’s almost gone, but the plans are still there, piling up more and more…”
"And you said, if you really come to the end of your life, would you choose a dozen or so of your favorite works and say goodbye to them one by one, or would you listen to one or two of your favorite works over and over again?"
Xilan thought seriously, but his expression of struggle became more and more obvious.
"I...I don't know how to choose...Why do you ask such a depressing question? I want to have a happy chat with you."
Really? Sheeran, do you think so?
However, Fan Ning felt that it was difficult to decide whether this caused depression or comfort.
But he finally shook his head: "If you say you don't want to talk, you won't."
At this time, a rare smile appeared on Fan Ning's face.
"Have you ever thought about what you want for your next 18th birthday? Refer to the general type or hint."
"Ah..." This topic made Xilan suddenly feel at a loss and surprised, "If there is any, you can make preparations."
She was actually a little confused. Her birthday was still more than two months away, so why did Fan Ning suddenly mention it today.
But for a long time, she hadn't seen Fan Ning smile, not including a bitter or helpless smile, or a single finger without a sense of gloom.
Especially now I am still smiling to myself.
It's really beautiful.
"A general type or prompt can make the effect better at that time," Fanning said.
"Usually when you ask this, you have an idea in mind." Sheeran looked up and rolled his eyes, "But, actually, I just prefer to collaborate with you on violin concertos. If you don't mind, you can do more."
"It's not too difficult. I can write a few more slowly."
"It doesn't have to be a new work, it's all the same. Those four small symphonies are so beautiful, are you going to perform them once and then put them down?"
"Old works are okay? You have such a small appetite."
"Do you have big ideas in mind?"
"It's very big." Fan Ning nodded.
"How big is it?"
"It's as big as Turner Hall." He gestured with open arms.
"What a cold joke." Xilan burst out laughing.
"I'm serious." Fan Ning blinked.
"Come on, to be honest, it's just a violin concerto, an old one will do. You can just arrange a few more performances in the future."
"No problem, then, let's go and rest."
The two stood up and Fan Ning sent her out of the door.
"Why are you so obsessed with the violin concerto, the kind that doesn't choose old or new works?" he asked again, leaning against the wall.
"I like it," the girl replied.
"Is there any special reason?"
"You should go to bed early and I'll tell you after the premiere."
After saying good night to each other, Sheeran waved her hand and disappeared behind the closed door.
"I'm just going to sleep." The door was closed when he said this.
The smile on Fan Ning's face did not stay for long, and she walked back to the desk step by step and sat down.
He wasn't sleepy at all.
Slowly leaning back, the score of "Second Symphony" was in his hands again.
This time he was flipping through the pages one by one, and all kinds of past events came to mind. Each piece of music reminded him of various scenes from his past creations, or the voices and smiles of those who died, as well as old letters and documents.
Reminiscing about the past of the old organist who was taught by Mr. Anton...
Led by the Santa Lenia Symphony Orchestra, the adventure of three people...
The condolence event for the poet Bassani, the scene of the out-of-control subway accident, the summer fragrance of the Saint-Overny Manor...
The creation of the old symphony orchestra from scratch, every detail of life in Turner Hall, the eyes of the children who received musical aid, the message wall of music fans, various interesting topics during the tea break, and impressionist painter friends
We, the unrepentant joy of the New Year's concert, Ms. Hamilton's funeral...
The midnight hours passed by hour by hour.
His finger paused on the last page.
There was a black and white photo of the New Year's concert, the back facing up.
He was ready to turn around, but he still couldn't make up his mind.
His eyes then turned to the bookshelf next to him.
Most of the books are scores, and many of the pages contain notes that have not been torn off yet. They were annotated by Kaplan when he borrowed them and returned them during the past year. There are bookmarks, time notes, and answers to assigned questions.
There is also a letter in the drawer under the bookshelf.
He began to read the letter again.
The font is extremely stretched and elegant, and the writing method of each letter is very familiar.
"...But the same spring does not necessarily mean the same joy. Pleasure or depression depends on how each person spends the winter. If you have not tried your best to fight against the harsh winter, you will not be able to appreciate the warmth of spring. If you have not experienced the uncertainty of gains and losses in destiny,
, you will not be able to appreciate the happiness that day when you have it.”
Under the gas lamp, in the rearview mirror, the retreating figure reappeared in my mind.
Thoughts wandering in summer nights.
There is also the lingering sadness that always lingers.
I don't know how much time passed, but Fan Ning started writing something at his desk again.
Finally, I stood in front of the window, looking at the white fish belly in the sky in the distance.
It's past half past five in the morning.
"Sunrise" and "dawn" are two synonyms for the rising of the sun.
But in Tulungarian, the collocation of one phrase is "the sunrise is coming", and the collocation of the other is "bringing the dawn".
This is really interesting.
It's as if the dawn is brought by people.
It's the subjective sight of the sunrise that leads to the arrival of a new day.
Just like the meaning of "Wu" in ancient languages, it has gone through a long evolution process of division and refinement.
But for some people, today "brings" the first dawn, for others, it is the last one, or even the one that "cannot be brought".
He thought like this until the sun rose from the skyline, until the smog and steel supports in the city were dyed with new colors.
Until he suddenly felt something strange in the spiritual environment around him.
It seemed like there were several walls pushing against me from all directions.
It was an existence whose degree of condensation and mysterious characteristics were far higher than my own. Even the "candle" spiritual sense that reached the limit of the ninth level could not penetrate and probe.
Before he could make a substantial response, a cold hand patted his shoulder.
"Commander Fan Ning, this is the third time I say hello, and I bring you my greetings at dawn."
He Meng's gloomy voice sounded in his ears.
Fan Ning turned around and his pupils suddenly shrank.
one two three…
In addition to He Meng, there were seven investigators standing in front of him in the office, lined up in two rows and staring.
Including Salman, everyone who gave him a vague aura of inspiration was a high-ranking existence.
A dagger with black mist suddenly appeared in his throat.
""River of Silver Mirrors"..." The Guchaniz name of a work flashed in Fan Ning's mind, because according to his artistic understanding, this mysterious painting may be an invisible force of defense rather than attack.
This is better than the "expanding echo" spell seal in my pocket that was used to deal with subway collisions.
But just when he was about to open his mouth, the dagger suddenly disappeared.
"Take out the nine paintings we met last time, and then take us to the entrance of the 'Grand Court School' site. I know it is in the Turner Art Museum, and it is one of the possible areas."
Norma Gunn, wearing a black court dress, is sitting on Fanning's desk chair.
"15 minutes is enough time to go around to any far end of the art hall. I need to see things that meet my expectations before the end of this time. I don't have to refuse or speculate whether I will actually take action here.