And Chopin's days of playing the wind spectrum month

【franzliszt】

Liszt's mood has never been so happy.

The charming smile never disappeared from that handsome face since he left the house, his lake-like eyes sparkled with sparkling light, and even the ends of his curly hair danced happily by his ears.

With such a natural luminous body occupying his sight, Chopin just felt tired and panicked.He even suspected that inviting him to see Aurora would become the biggest mistake in his life that could not be recalled.

But the itinerary cannot be changed, he has already made a reservation with Miss Titmouse.

Since he asked for a friend that day, a certain Hungarian counted down several times on his fingers almost every day to confirm the date of meeting-this made the Poles feel less favorable about Beethoven's pianists.

Is it that hard to count?Can you not be so childish?

Only Parisian favorites responded to him, as always.

"Ah, Fred, do you think my hairstyle and clothes are all right? Is my outfit all right?"

"...With all due respect, Franz, even if you're in your pajamas now, you don't have time to go back and change."

If impatience were to materialize, it would have marked a bright red crossroads sign above Chopin's head.

It's a pity that it's the nineteenth century, and we can only see the faint throbbing veins on his forehead.After all, what Liszt repeatedly confirmed was exactly what had tortured him before—this man even changed ten sets of clothes back and forth before going out!

If it wasn't for their own invitation, the Poles even suspected that the Hungarians were going to an absolutely formal appointment.

"Pajamas? Lord, Fred, you—"

"Shut up, Liszt, that's my fiancée, please don't make fun of me."

After receiving the displeasure from his friends around him, the blond pianist fell silent.

Chopin finally regained his composure.Obviously, it is a joy to see his treasure, and it must not be spoiled by others.

"Fried, Anting Street, we are coming."

The golden parrot began to chirp happily again, as if he had never been to this street so novel.

If it wasn't for Aurora, for the letter of recommendation——

Chopin only hated that no one could stop that mouth except Liszt himself.

Merciful Lord, forgive me, he really only had a moment to kick this man off the wagon.

……

After arriving at the destination, Liszt grabbed Chopin and pointed in a certain direction.

The blue-eyed young man glanced and found the image of Aurora playing the piano behind the glass window the other party was pointing at.His eyebrows stretched instantly, the sound of the piano was very faint, but the mood of the piano player could be vaguely seen.

Chopin's lip line began to have a warm arc.

For nothing else, he knows that her heart is clear, and there will be no clouds in his world.

"Let's go in quietly—Fred, I want to hear what she plays when she relaxes. Any guesses about that?"

"...It's hard to say. It's a pity, but in this situation, she probably won't be able to play my song."

The straightforward Hungarian immediately rolled his eyes at the seemingly serious Pole.

Yes yes yes, your fiancée's favorite is Chopin... I heard, I remember it well.

"So, what do you think of my proposal? Aren't you curious about the real inner world of your treasure?"

"..."

Chopin didn't answer right away.

Just when Liszt was about to give up persuading him and went to knock on the main door, he found that his friend had deviated from the original route.

perfect.

Sure enough, Fried would care about these small details awkwardly.

……

The closer you get to the window, the clearer the sound of the piano.

Before Liszt could keep up with Chopin, he found that he seemed to be petrified, standing still behind the date-colored curtain.

He quickly moved over with light steps and opened his ears by the way.

Um?How is Beethoven's "Piano Sonata No. [-] in C Minor" played——

The Hungarian pianist who has always admired this master of music sage the most was also firmly nailed to the ground by the melody coming from the room.

As a master of piano arrangements, Mr. Liszt has no subjects that he dare not touch, let alone take them into consideration.

As long as he likes it, as long as he feels that the work is worth passing on to more people, he is willing to spend some effort to move the whole world to the piano.Symphony, art song, song without words...the difference is only in the proportion of "liszt" in the arrangement.

But he never adapted Beethoven in this way.

This third movement of "Pathetique", which can almost be called the peak of Beethoven's piano sonata, has the original drama reversed into another drama-it sounds like the music saint suddenly took a cup from the bartender. Champagne, slid onto the dance floor suddenly, stepped on small and lively little dance steps, and interpreted the pathos as calm...Laughing and cursing?

Maybe not at all.

Liszt quickly waved away the almost chilling horror images in his mind, and saw the playful corners of his friend's mouth just as he looked up.

The two people who had established diplomatic relations for a long time completed a confrontation with just looking back and forth.

"Ha, Franz, listen to this Beethoven—you know now how I felt when you strummed my nocturnes?"

"...Aren't you afraid that she will make me angry? I will turn around and leave."

"No, dear friend, I'm very happy that my lady avenged me. Go slow, do you want me to send you a wave?"

"Fried—"

A piece just ends, but the end is also the beginning, if the performer has no will to stop.

The same rhythm style, the same adaptation, but this time the dancer has become Mozart, and the melody is his No.40 symphony.

The Hungarian pianist regained his energy in an instant. He watched the Poles turn into a stone statue again with satisfaction, and his heart suddenly brightened.

Oh, he swears, Liszt's favorite female pianist from now on is the lady in the room.

If the lake-blue eyes could speak, the last words it said to the other pair of sky-blue eyes were:

"Ha, come the retribution."

Calm down and listen, Liszt tasted more and more the charm of these two deviant pieces.

They are neither profane nor playful. The breaking up and reconstruction of notes is driven by a set of internal theories, including a distinctive dance rhythm style. This is a completely new, never-present, yet mature music type.

And what he likes most is to try the infinite possibilities in the five lines.

When the song ended, Liszt couldn't wait to show his figure by the open window.

He even knocked on the glass three times to remind the lady playing the piano to come over.

"Good day, miss, the piece you just played...was very, very interesting."

"Lee, Lee, Liszt!"

The blonde pianist could swear to God he had never seen such a lovely lady before.

But this did not affect his inner happiness in the slightest, and he even dared to tease his silent friends on the edge of the cliff.

"Oh, is this recognized?"

Chopin sat on the sofa at the home of his fiancée, although he had a smile on his face, but this kind of positive emotion did not enter his heart.

Even though he was drinking the tea that Aurora made for him personally, even though the always noisy person beside him finally learned to be reserved and quiet, he was still unhappy.

The originally light tea burst into the mouth with the bitterness that only raw tea can have.

Being remembered by her taste preferences can't suppress the inexplicable emotions in my heart.

"Aurora... have you met Franz? Why did you recognize him at a glance?"

Chopin tried not to deal with the strangeness in his heart, otherwise he would not be able to speak naturally.He didn't want his voice to be stained with resentment, and there was nothing worthy of his resentment.

The topic was drawn out, and both eyes fell on the only lady in the living room.

One is to get to the bottom of the matter, and the other is to explore with curiosity. The combination of the two should bring a heavy sense of oppression, but it disappeared without a trace under her calm response.

"Well, Francois, I've seen Mr. Liszt's portrait, so I can recognize it at a glance."

portrait……

You like Chopin so much, didn't you go to see his portrait?

As soon as the angry Poles were about to ask questions, they were preempted enthusiastically by the Hungarians beside them.

"Aurora, throw away those bound honorific words, please treat me as a friend-I want to know which portrait of my face you are comparing? Is it Angel's sketch?"

"Should... be an engraving?"

"Is that my best-selling portrait? Haha, that one sold 40 copies in an hour—you have that portrait in your collection?"

"No... I didn't buy it."

What kind of weird talk is this?

Franz, I called you here to listen to her piano and to write her a letter of recommendation.

Please think about business quickly with your bright and beautiful head!

"That's a pity... Do you want me to send———"

"?"

To deal with the ignorant and confused Hungarian, stepping on him is the most correct and quickest way.

The world is finally quiet.

"Aurora, have you ever seen a portrait of Chopin? Can you recognize him if you look at his portrait once?"

Chopin finally made up his mind, and with some expectations, he asked the topic he wanted to ask the most.

"Francois, you are asking this question... Well, actually, I don't know how to say it. I have seen more than one portrait of Chopin—"

The Polish body froze and his breathing almost stopped.

"But those portraits...with all due respect, I really can't put together a definite face—I think I can recognize Chopin at a glance, too."

Looking at Aurora with a regretful face and a long sigh, Liszt, who was holding back the hilarious laughter in his throat, desperately signaled with his eyes, "Should I recommend you a reliable painter", as Frederic Chopin himself Mr. François Pisson finally opened his mouth, but could not utter a word.

……

"Okay, this is the end of the pleasant greetings. Dear Miss Aurora, can I inspect your piano up close?"

"Near, near distance?"

Liszt put down the teacup, walked straight towards the piano, and sat down beside Aurora.

Chopin, who came back to his senses, was instantly broken by the strings of reason played by the Hungarians.

"Lee, Liszt!"

"You can just call me 'Frantz', Aurora. I'll listen first, and I want to play with you at the end—don't be nervous at all, how about just pretending I'm a big rag doll?"

The piano cover was tapped three times by the grim-faced Pole, with accent marks.

The smug Hungarian gave him a lazy look and pointed to the sofa to give orders.

"Ah, 'François,' this is the place of the pianist. You, a writer, don't want to interfere with our happy exchange."

Franz Liszt -

Sure enough, he should have kicked this damn familiar off the carriage on the way here!