man, he looks ugly

what a wonderful day,

when i wake up,

The roses on the windowsill exude their fragrance,

The canary in the cage chirped.

The joy of love is known only to those who love,

what a wonderful day,

when i wake up,

The sun god's lyre has played,

The water bottle of the Madonna pours out a clear spring.

The despair of love is only known to those who are tempted,

What a beautiful day... (Freja)

The ballet dancers are using their soft waists to illustrate the beautiful state of mind of a princess falling in love when the morning light breaks and when the dream wakes up. The pink ribbon wrapped around the waist forms a rose-like veil as the girls rotate. When standing on tiptoes, the hair is completely floating in the air, shining like a shooting star in the cold night.

"Mrs. Geary, little Meg has completely inherited your perfect talent for ballet. I believe she will become the pillar of the ballet troupe ten years later." The theater manager complimented Mrs. Geary, the dance trainer of the ballet troupe, with a smile on his face.

"Thank you." Although the other party was sincerely praising her daughter, Mrs. Geary still had no smile on her face. Perhaps for her, the joy in her heart had been reduced to ashes with the death of her husband a year ago.

When the ballet draws to a close.

I walked away from the ballet dancers and walked silently to Mrs. Geary, trying to look at her pitifully with wide eyes, hoping I would be allowed to play with my new friend, Christine.

"You can go to Christine." Mrs. Geary's eyes still fell on the new actors on the stage, but she finally let me go.

I ran lightly across the huge and complex backstage of the theater. Because I was wearing soft ballet shoes, my footsteps were soundless, like a piece of goose feather floating across the water without causing any fluctuations.

The room was quiet and quiet, little Christine was sitting on the edge of the bed, the sunlight flowing behind her formed a river of light, but no ripples splashed on her body, Christine hugged her father's violin and wept silently , Tears flowed from that fair and delicate little face, and dripped on the strings of the violin, emitting a small whirlpool of sound like a gnat.

That heartbreaking angel, almost instantly, I was crushed by her tears.

I walked up to Christine and gently brushed her hair from the sideburns, "Is this your father's violin?"

Christine nodded, lowered her eyes, and touched the strings of the violin with tender fingertips, "This is my father's favorite violin, it is also called 'Christian', my father always said he had Two darlings, both named Christine."

"Christine, that's a beautiful name. Your father must have played the violin to you often." I stroked the strings lightly,

"Actually, he's a violinist, but unfortunately I can't play it."

"Do you want to hear it?" I finally thought of a way to please her, and took out the bow from the piano case.

"You can play the violin?" Christine's eyes finally shone with joy, which made her eyes as beautiful as obsidian in the sun.

"It's too big, you have to help me support it." I tried to move the violin onto my shoulders.In fact, the violin made for adults was almost like a sack on the shoulders of a seven-year-old girl. Fortunately, Christine assisted.

The child's strength is not long-lasting, the slightly jerky sound of the piano is intermittent, and the baby's fat fingers feel a little difficult to pluck the gut strings.

The mist of pain originating from the soul, the kind of despair that is more difficult than the polar night, covers the joy in the heart. The lamb sacrificed deep in the body screams in despair, begging for a moment of salvation, and the plucked harp The strings are like Ariadne strings to guide the lonely soul out of the labyrinth of despair.

"What's the name of this song?" Christine's eyes were like crescent pools filled with clear springs, with clear tears flowing out.

"Bach's mass, there is no score, I only remember this short section." I smiled awkwardly, blushing because my mistake had won Christine's praise.

"Thanks, Meg." Christine smiled at last, thank God, through tears.

That smile is like a rose covered with morning dew, which is fleeting.

The theater was silent at noon, and it seemed that even the sound of muslin skirts rubbing when walking was deafening. The actors took a short rest on the soft beds. It is said that two new managers of the theater will be ushered in tonight. Every ballerina wants to be in the theater. Show off your talent as you perform to win over your new manager.

It is said that one of the managers is a retired musician from the court, who has both good artistic accomplishment and extensive contacts in the upper class.

But that has nothing to do with me. The personnel changes in the theater are beyond my control as a little ballet dancer, but the theater is rarely so quiet. As an energetic child, if I want to lie on the bed obediently for 45 minutes, I'm so bored at home.

In order not to disturb Christine, I could only curl up on the bed sheet and play with my fingers, twisting, folding, and making all kinds of unimaginable gestures.A person who has been immersed in loneliness for a long time must learn to entertain himself and know how to pass the lonely time.

Until there was a strange movement outside the door, which seemed to be the sound of the fine silver chain on the soprano’s white neck dragging on the ground, mixed with the sound of iron nails hitting the stone, this unusual sound attracted me With all my attention, I strained my ears to hear the sound, trying to discern its composition.

The curiosity about sound seems to come from the most irresistible impulse in the depths of the soul, and perhaps the most beautiful gift bestowed by God. I can clearly distinguish most sounds in the environment: the unique creaking of wood when they collide with each other the sound of the hemp rubbing against each other when the mechanism is turned; and the dull thump of the hard soles of the ballerinas when they step into the talc powder box...

This sound of incomprehensible origin made my curiosity scream like a kitten that can't drink its mother's milk.

Finally, when this sound came to me and Christine's door, this curiosity reached its peak. I couldn't hold back, and I sneaked out of bed, relying on my young body and the softness I had acquired through ballet training. Slowly, he moved to the door, pressed his body against the door, and carefully eavesdropped.

But the sound only paused in front of the door for a short second, and then there was the sound of gauze cloth rubbing against each other, did he bend down?

The paper scratched across the stone floor and made a short sound. Looking at the corner of the white envelope exposed between the cracks in the door, I became a little dull because I was immersed in the world of sound.

That voice gradually faded away and disappeared into the air.

Mrs. Geary opened the door suddenly, her face was so ugly, an emotion I had never seen before spread across her face, mixed with strong fear and fear, those black walnut-colored eyes stared at me nervously, I timidly hid back with my hands behind my back, wishing I could hide behind the chair.

"Go back to bed, Meg." Mrs. Geary picked up the envelope, and clutched it tightly in her hand, her fingers trembling.

Along with the envelope, there is a small pale pink box, which is tied with the envelope with a black ribbon that doesn't match.

"Yes, Mommy." I turned around, turned around obediently, and trot back to the bed.

Mrs. Geary left decisively with the box and envelope.

She didn't seem to want me to see and possess them, but the panic expression on her face made it hard to restrain the search in her heart.

In the evening, the two new managers arrived at the opera house at the same time.

The actors have already received instructions from the former manager to start rehearsing new plays on the stage.

In order to get the first letter that seemed to belong to me, I avoided the insignificant meeting, and ran to the dormitory with the help of the crowded front desk, preparing to find the origin of the letter.

Mrs. Geary seemed not to have had time to deal with the letter, which was in the top drawer, and I found it with little trouble.

This is an unusual letterhead, the wax is printed in the shape of a skull, which normal person would use this kind of badge that pretends to be a ghost?The pink velvet box is perfect for a child's gift, but it's so weird with the weird black ribbon wrapped around it.

Strange letters and gifts leaked everywhere, making me more and more curious.

My fingertips trembled slightly as I opened the velvet box.I don't know if Pandora also felt such apprehension and fear when she opened the magic box.

But when the velvet box was opened, it made me feel a little disappointed.

It really is some very ordinary British sweets.

Perhaps the envelope will reveal more information.

But just before I was about to open the letter, a hurried footstep came from the corridor. I had to hide the letter in my skirt, close the pink box, close the drawer, and ran to the dresser, pretending to be Choose a ribbon for your hair.

Emily pushed open the door and poked her head in. After seeing me, the panic in her brown eyes disappeared slightly, and the tension in her expression eased slightly, "Little Mel, you are here."

Emily is the youngest ballet dancer in the ballet troupe and the actress who respects Mrs. Geary the most. She is not very skilled in ballet dancing, and she was able to stay in the opera house only with Mrs. Geary's permission.

She walked in lightly, took my hand and hurried out, "We have to go to the stage, we have to support Mrs. Geary."

"What happened?" I asked anxiously.

"Miss Albing complained to the new managers, Mr. Debuena and Mr. Pollini. She thought that Mrs. Geary could not be the trainer of the ballet company. This is too heartless!" She told me with tears.

Mrs. Geary is going out of work?This is not good!

Before Mrs. Geary became a ballet trainer, I didn't even drink milk very often, so I was shorter than Christine!

The girls are shaking the incense fans in their hands,

The gentlemen dance with their partners;

The room is so crowded,

Crowded.

I can't breathe,

Pain strangles my throat,

As if to kill me.

It seems to kill you too... (Freya)

The author has something to say: (>^ω^<), continue to ask for support!The friends of the original plot of Phuket Island can be viewed as original.

Another: If you have any hope for the direction of Wenwen, or if you have any suggestions for the character of the characters, please come forward~