And Chopin's days of playing the wind spectrum month

the shadow of friendship

The horseshoes and wheels made a gentle sound on the road, constantly knocking out an orderly rhythm in the ears.The carriage was very quiet, the voices of the conversations in front of the Eral Concert Hall were silent in the gaze, and those noises seemed to be the only sound in the world.

After getting into the car, the two young people tacitly chose another way of communication.

The vocal cavity is suspended, and only interprets and analyzes from the eyes. He is in charge and self-centered. No one can influence the judgment of the thinking... The thoughts are wild, and every flicker of the eyes can cause short breaths or self-forgetful stagnation.

In each other's eyes, the undisguised hearts of both parties are reflected.

Words and dialogue seem to lose their meaning.

After going through those unimaginable events, the relationship between them can return to the original happiest state. Now that the lover is by my side, maybe they should talk more—although Chopin doesn’t think that the current carriage is in a state of insecurity. In the embarrassment of being speechless... speaking, it seems a bit too deliberate; not speaking, it seems too quiet.

The youth's heart is like the tremolo marks marked on the staff, fluctuating, extending, and swaying.

"Francois, do you... have anything to say to me?"

"Yeah? Talk? Ah, yes, talk...um, recital, piano, uh—"

It has never been like this before, just like a cat passing by the balcony took away the dried fish that was drying there, Chopin only felt that when Aurora noticed the entanglement in his heart, his tongue seemed to be taken away by the cat.

"Have you thought about what to say, François?"

"me--"

His ears felt hot, and Chopin's mind went blank.The musician who once socialized comfortably in the salon can't form a smooth sentence now.

Obviously, the normal relationship has been restored, why did his person become abnormal instead?

"It's a pity, François, that you haven't had a chance to start a draft again—I'm home."

"!"

Chopin raised his head in astonishment, and turned his face to the car window instantly.

The carriage stopped at some point, and the small independent building outside the window was so familiar that he could draw it on his back.

The car door opened, and the chickadee jumped out.

The young man just reached out his hand to save something, but found that he didn't have any necessary reasons—the annoyance in his heart suddenly spewed out, and he began to regret wasting so much time. If he had just talked to her in the car just now, it would be great .

"Are you... trying to keep me?"

"No, no—"

She smiled and traced the charming fingertips with her eyes, with high spirits.

He quickly put his hand behind his back in embarrassment, as if he had never extended it.

"Get out of the car, François, I want to invite you in for a cup of tea. By the way, you can think about those things you want to say to me but are hesitant to say."

"..."

"Ah, wait a minute, I need to ask your coachman for a small matter."

"..."

Aurora's hand seemed irresistible, and Chopin could hardly refuse it.

When he came back to his senses again, he had already been led by her, and he had already stepped into the gate of No. 38 Anting Street.

……

After going through those twists and turns, and stepping here again as a cherished person, everything that Chopin saw in his eyes made him feel warm in his heart.

He saw Aurora busy with the small teapot, and he heard the charming sound of water and china colliding.There seems to be something in the heart, flowing like a white mist along the wind, but filling every inch of the passage to the brim.

Why do you like it, why do you care?

Or there is no reason at all-if you have to find out why, it can only be "she is Aurora".

She is his necessity.

I only like you because you are you.

The piano cover was lifted gently.Chopin caressed every key, and finally put his hands on the black and white keyboard.

Compared with language, he prefers to use music and piano to talk.He is not like Liszt who can make witty remarks at any time, but anyone who understands his piano can definitely listen carefully.

The melody is as gentle as spring water, gurgling and slowly pouring into my heart.The ups and downs of the keys seem to form the sparkle in the waves, and in the sparkle, there are swaying silhouettes of flowers and trees.

The clouds go with the wind, as thin as gauze.The night moon is hazy, dyeing the clouds out of the bright corners.Lingering and stretching, finally dripping a few heartbeats on the tip of the blade of grass.

Chopin never expected that he would interpret his nocturnes in such a way.

It's sticky and sweet, but it fits his mood so well at the moment—it's really, really bad.

cup.

Warm water vapor is floating in front of my eyes.As soon as the piano piece was over, the tea was handed to Chopin.

"Francois, if Franz were here, he would definitely be angry about this...'Why do you ask me to follow the bullets, you obviously don't follow it yourself'. It doesn't look like you to play like this."

"Aurora, what you saw with your own eyes is not like me?"

"Are you the real Chopin? Such a romantic performance is like throwing your nocturne into a honey jar...Sir, you definitely owe me the Chopin piano lesson, it's really reliable"

The girl smiled and took out a gold louis and placed it beside the music table, her eyes were full of ridicule and ridicule.

The young man picked up the gold coin and rubbed it gently on his fingertips, pretending to be calm.

"Hey, Aurora, only Chopin can interpret Chopin. Therefore, my Chopin is reasonable—of course, this situation is just special, and occasionally, I like this expression."

"Ah, Francois, can I be called 'Encore'? I suddenly like you better than the reliable Chopin."

Encore, calling you "one more time".

Only Chopin can dictate how to play Chopin, and only the musician himself can break the inherent rules.

He lived in the era of romanticism, and everything carried the characteristics of the period of classicism.It would be a mistake to play his repertoire in an overly sweet and lyrical way...but sometimes, for a moment, maybe the musician himself, would like to sprinkle his notes with icing sugar.

"As long as you like, I will give you unlimited 'encore' power."

……

"Hey, my gentlemen and ladies, check the time—"

Pettit, wearing a nightcap, suddenly appeared in the living room. She patted the dining table and yawned, looking helplessly at the pair of energetic young people at the piano.

"Mr. Chopin, I don't deny that your piano sound is incomparably beautiful... If it is during the day, I would be very happy to be your loyal listener. And Aurora, the concert has already ended, I think you need to rest, right?"

The violin stopped abruptly.

After putting down a cryptic piece of advice, Pettit didn't care about their responses, and turned to leave.

The embarrassment almost froze the eyes of the two musicians on the dining table.

After a long time, they finally turned their heads resentfully and looked at each other speechlessly.

"Then, then I should say goodbye to you..."

Chopin stood up awkwardly, suppressing the urge to escape from the house immediately from his legs, and stumbled while speaking.

The time with Aurora was too good, as if there had never been any differences between them.Everything tonight can be seamlessly connected with the happy past in his memory, making him almost forget that this is the first day they crossed the chasm.

"Tell me goodbye, where are you going?"

"Back, go home?"

The head was so dull that it couldn't work, Aurora's obvious question, Chopin's answer was full of uncertainty.

Hearing her shallow laughter, he filled his entire chest with zal again in his heart.

"Where else can you go back, François? Remember when I got out of the car and I whispered a few words to the driver-I told them that I won't be picking you up tonight. Do you want to walk back at this point?"

Chopin retracted the foot he was about to take, staring at Aurora a little at a loss.

"Leave the poor coachmen alone, let them have a good night's rest... Also please spare your legs, if you want to take a walk, tomorrow I can accompany you as far as you want."

She seemed to have patted him on the shoulder, and when he came back to his senses, he found himself hooked by her neck, and a light kiss was left on his forehead.

Chopin's eyes widened, only to see Aurora running nimbly and swiftly to the stairwell like a rabbit.

"That's a goodnight kiss, François. Your room is upstairs, and I don't think I'll need to open the door for you. . . . See you tomorrow!"

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away, and the Pole watched the chickadee fly towards the bedroom, unable to move to catch up anyway.

He lightly touched the damp and hot forehead with his fingers, and the roots of his ears were faintly red.

"Zal... how can there be such a thing, Aurora..."

The bright red wine was swaying in the goblet, the slender fingers seemed to be gently twisting on the slender glass, and the wrist moved slightly, everything came alive.

Liszt stood by the window, raised the curtain with his left hand, and brought the wine to his lips with his right hand.Stars were hidden in his squinted eyes, and there was a little drunkenness between his brows, lazy and bewitching.

The pianist who had just set off a storm in the Erlard Concert Hall was leaning casually on the edge of the window at this moment, completely oblivious to the fact that he had become a beautiful portrait again.

Concert hall, concert, piano...

The smile on the Hungarian's lips grew stronger.He gleefully drank the wine in the cup, dropped the glass neatly, and seemed to be flying lightly.

There is no other reason, it is just that "Liszt has not been so happy for a long time".

Aurora is like a box of treasures that has been opened, it is simply amazing—the first time that Liszt, who has never been jealous, envied his best friend so much. taste.

Except for the time when he first met the Polish youth surnamed "Chopin", it is rare for a Hungarian pianist to play the piano so happily with his peers.

Of course, this kind of "happiness" needs to be specially distinguished. It is not only a kind of joy produced by the inner resonance of friends or bosom friends, but also a kind of heartiness born of technical cooperation or competition.

The blond young man lowered his left hand and leaned on the window sill.He simply raised the curtains with his head, squinted his eyes and tapped on the stage with his free right hand, just like he was on the stage tonight—even though behind Liszt, there was a Pleyel piano waiting docilely Someone lifted the piano cover.

Fingertips touch the wooden board to produce rhythms of different degrees of intensity, and it becomes the only sound in the night.Without a clear melody, it's hard to guess what kind of piece it is - just like a pianist who pays so much attention to the unchanging, dead silent street outside the window, and has no way of interpreting the deep meaning in his heart.

"It seems that tonight is indeed a perfect night..."

Liszt stopped what he was doing and moved away in satisfaction.The curtains slid down over his head, separating his sunny smile from the darkness outside the window.

dong dong dong-

The knock on the door was very clear in the dead of night.The force of the door knocker was well controlled, not abrupt, but rather charming.

The smile froze on Liszt's handsome face.

He hesitated for a moment, then turned around slowly and stiffly.When he looked up at the closed door, the sun had already lost its brilliance, and only complexity and absurdity remained in his blue-green eyes. He held the goblet tightly in his hand, as if the stem of the goblet would be crushed in the next second. break off.

dong dong dong-

The knock on the door was louder again.It seemed that he was a little anxious because he hadn't received a response for a long time.

"It seems that God does not allow today to pass smoothly..."

A sigh came from Liszt's mouth.He closed his eyes, seeming to calm down.When he started to walk towards the door, the smile came back to his face once again.

click-

The door lock was unlocked, and the door slowly turned, like a curtain before the stage, revealing the excitement of the upcoming stage inch by inch.

"My dear F—"

Liszt's face appeared in the door frame, with a perfect and impeccable smile, but the gentle and affectionate call stopped abruptly where his brilliance could reach.

The young lady could not control the expression on her beautiful face by a hair's breadth.

"Ah, dear 'Mock', I never thought I would have such an honor, to be nicknamed so by you..."

The smile became brighter and brighter, and Liszt even leaned forward slightly, and the gesture of greeting politely, against the blond hair dangling by his ear, had an indescribable sense of charm.

"...I'm really terrified, dear Liz. In Paris, where can I find a woman who doesn't want to call you like that?" Mrs. Pleyel reacted very quickly, as if the shock was just a hallucination, and the charm was instant. Infinity, "Here...you?"

The woman in front of her had sparkling eyes, and the ending of the question was very thought-provoking.

Liszt didn't need to think at all, and instantly understood all her intentions.

"It's my fault if you frighten you, Mork—no one in Paris would want to treat you like that..."

"..."

The opponent's knuckles seemed to be a little whiter.

Liszt's smile deepened, and he finally stopped his hypocritical meandering before Mrs. Pleyel reminded him again.

"This is Chopin's apartment, absolutely—only I live here at the moment. Oh, you're not looking for me... Mr. Poland is not here. If you want to find him, you have to go to my apartment."

"...You, exchanged residences?! Ha, Franz Liszt, are you, are you teasing me?"

The young woman struggled to maintain the almost collapsed expression on her face, lowered her voice, stared straight into those smiling eyes and questioned him.

The young man was calm and unhurried, not at all troubled by her faint anger and reprimand.

"Oh, dear lady, how wronged I am - you asked me 'remember where Chopin's apartment is?', my God, I never lied to you, so how can I tease you?"

"..."

The Hungarian's vivid and innocent self-justification almost made the lady laugh out loud, and Mork's chest heaved shortly without saying a word.No matter whether he was pretending to be stupid or not, she couldn't accuse him, after all, she came here with a vague and unspeakable purpose.

Mo Ke looked up at Liszt's face. This handsome man made her feel a sense of distance—or it should be expressed in this way. Since she came back from a trip abroad, since everyone knew that Chopin was engaged, everything in Paris has changed. strange.

How is this possible?

How can this be!

The gorgeous satin dress was creased by Mo Ke's hand.Unwillingness and anger burned in her eyes, transforming into a kind of crazy ashes with thousands of charms.

Liszt straightened up vigilantly, trying to get a safe distance away, but a hand grabbed onto his collar.

His eyes dimmed, and his smile became deeper and deeper.

"Anyway... Dear Mr. Litz, do you have the heart to let me continue to be tortured by the cold night wind outside the door?"

"..."

Moke's breathing mixed with the perfume on his body made Liszt see the night scene behind her more and more blurred.

There are some things that he has never forgotten, some people have suffered real injuries, and it is also true that the perpetrators are still playing in the world.Anyway, Pleyel and Erard are natural competitors, anyway, Mok once played with Berlioz's love, anyway, she moved her thoughts to Chopin...

But he is by no means a god who rewards good and punishes evil, and cannot exercise the power of judgment—if someone insists on playing with fire, then he can only prepare a bucket in advance, and extinguish it when the fire just starts.

"I beg your pardon, Madame, how could I have forgotten to ask you to come in."

"It's Mork, Franz."

The moment he closed the door, Liszt's smile floated on the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were indifferent.

However, as soon as he turned around, the warm spring day descended on him again.

"So, Mork, would you like to have a few drinks with me?"

"Of course, Franz, today is 'your victory' after all."

The young man picked out the strongest bottle of Polish vodka from his friend's wine cabinet, and took another glass.

He focused on pouring wine into the glass, not being shaken by the beautiful scenery on the sofa.

"This time, I will never let you ruin my friend's love again. 』