world class art fanatic

Bellu has seen Shen Ling and heard Shen Ling's voice.

It's a pity that Shen Ling didn't speak to him at that time, let alone look at him.

But he still remembered the clear——

"Zhiyuan, you can't be so unreasonable."

Beilu forgot what the person Shen Ling called "Zhiyuan" looked like, but he could never forget Shen Ling's tone and expression.

There was a connivance-like helplessness at the corner of his mouth, and the unfamiliar Chinese pronunciation was like a trickle.

The man in the gown is like the bright moonlight in Beilu's heart, illuminating the dilapidated and muddy streets in a foreign country.

Shen Ling treated Bellu's father as if he was a close friend, polite and gentle.

Even after he exchanged pleasantries with his father, something happened in Belu's life that he was lucky and regretted, and Belu could not forget his words and deeds.

The lights in the third rose hall gradually dimmed, and a beam of white light faintly lit up, just like the bright moon that never disappeared in his heart, illuminating Zhong Ying on the stage.

Zhong Ying sat there, the blessings and applause of the entire concert hall were no longer important.

Bellou stared at the stage closely, and the violin's elegant prelude soon sounded in his ears.

"Golden Bell" is like a golden river, slowly flowing in Beilu's heart, but he is still waiting, waiting for the long-awaited voice to come out from the ten-string elegant rhyme.

Soon, the conductor gave individual cues to the solo instruments.

At the moment when Pamela waved the baton, Zhong Ying's fingers hanging on the string pressed hard.

The real thousand-year-old ebony, the sound of the piano reverberates, the sound is like a broken string, and the lingering sound lingers around the beam!

Zhong Ying's slender fingers slid across the strings, and the soul-stirring sound of the strings was not at all like the sound that a musical instrument made of wood could make.

The melody of the ten-stringed zither overshadowed the warm and melodious orchestra in an instant, hot magma burst out from the trickle, and red sparks exploded, igniting dry reeds, causing a devastating mountain fire!

"Golden Bells" didn't make the crowd feel comfortable, but it kept their backs tensed, chasing the flame that swept across the field of vision.

And it is the players on the stage who focus on the strings that ignite the fire.

He is wearing a long gown unique to Chinese people, his bangs are pulled behind his ears, his handsome eyebrows are under the soft white light, and he has an unforgettable restraint and elegance.

But he flicked the strings with ten fingers, and broke them decisively, and the sound of playing revealed a distinctive determination and strength.

It seems that the musical instrument under his hands is not a harp made of ebony ice strings, but the eternally burning steel in the flaming magma, which is about to be poured into an unyielding backbone.

The bell should pop a sound, bursts of abrupt sounds, definitely not a suitable tune for a 97-year-old man's birthday.

But under the soft concerto of the orchestra, it turned into a blunt knife with a hidden blade, wrapped in tongues of fire, and rang the cold iron bell in the deep mountain.

Bellew heard the bell.

It was not the blessings like high mountains and flowing waters and plum blossoms overcoming snow that he had imagined, but more like a warning that foreshadowed wildfires in the wilderness and strong winds in the barren mountains, urging him to run away, and he was out of breath.

He had never heard such horrible music.

The flames scorched his heart, and the raging wind choked on his breath.

Bellou thought he was about to die, and with the turn of a movement, the voice in his ear suddenly softened, giving him a little room to breathe.

Zhong Ying on the stage, bathed in the moonlight, her fingers are white.

He chanted the strings softly, like whispering, alleviating the tension and urgency just now, and entering a low and dark tragic melody.

Bello let out a long sigh of relief.

He can accept such a slow C minor, and with the B flat major of the orchestra, there is a wonderful harmony, which makes him forget the pain before.

The ten-string elegant rhyme is really different from ordinary guqin.

Zhong should be fighting against an orchestra of more than a dozen people. He only has one person, and he can play with a sharp passion that cannot be concealed.

Not everyone finds this "Golden Bells" concerto strange.

However, as guests, they mistakenly thought that this was Mr. Bellou's latest favorite, and they liked the competition between the guqin and the orchestra.

The orchestra still cooperates with the comfortable and gentle B flat major, joy and blessing.

The guqin played solo, like riding the sad and crazy rapids in C minor, mixed with gravel and muddy torrents, rushing far away, rang the alarm bell to wake up the audience's mind.

Everyone is captivated by the music.

As soon as the ten-stringed harp swells, they forget the beautiful music of the orchestra.

The unique penetrating sound of the piano surpasses the softness that should have been in "Golden Bells", and abruptly enters the crazy and exciting rhythm. With the orchestra next to it, there is a surging concert full of tension and confrontation. played.

Such a wonderful performance, only those who have participated in the rehearsal will be surprised.

Domenique couldn't sit still from the moment the guqin was played.

Even though the guqin used by Zhong Ying has three extra strings, no matter what the melody is no longer the tenderness they are familiar with, it is filled with unquenchable anger.

He ran to the backstage resolutely and grabbed Li Jinqiu who was standing aside admiringly.

"Qiu, what the hell is this!"

"The bell." Li Jinqiu smiled triumphantly, "Zhong Ying and I were locked up in Bellu Manor for three days, and the bell was given to Bellu."

"You're crazy."

Domenic lowered his voice and pointed to the dimly lit auditorium, "Fan Chengyun is in the audience. I promised him that I would help him persuade Bellew to get back the real ten-stringed qin. Bellew is 97 years old, you Are you trying to kill him!"

"Kill him?"

Li Jinqiu couldn't understand, he grabbed the sentimental pianist and took him to a position with a good view.

"Look, Bellou obviously likes it very much."

They could clearly see Bellou in the front row from the backstage. He was sitting in a wheelchair, staring at the bell, his dry lips slightly parted, and seemed to be trembling with the rhythm.

He likes this kind of music, even if the tone is gloomy and impulsive occasionally, his old yearning expression and the longing in the cloudy eyes all clearly say: he likes it.

Domenic was worried, full of fear, and helpless.

Although the tone is too radical, and it is a mix of C minor and B flat major, but Bellou likes it, it seems that maybe it should be... not a big problem?

Half of his hanging heart was put down, he kept comforting himself, and finally calmed down.

However, just as he was about to leave the backstage to return to the banquet, Li Jinqiu caught him immediately.

"Don't stay and listen to the climax of this new bell?"

"And an orgasm?!"

Domenic was frightened again.

The orchestra gradually changed from strong to weak, and returned to silence, leaving only Zhong Ying's firm piano sound.

The cadenza, which belongs to the solo instrument, changed into a clanging melody as his slender fingers slammed the strings.

That's not the improvisation with "Golden Bells".

It is "War City South" that Shen Ling once re-composed for the fallen soldiers.

The sound of the strings is bursting, sad and mournful, and the slender fingers brush the ten strings. Even if the music played is accompanied by words, not many people in far away Italy will understand the deep meaning.

However, music can make them understand.

The ten-stringed harp whined, like a crow hovering.

——War in the south of the city, die in the north of Guo, if you die in the wild, you can eat crows without burying them.

Bellou seemed to hear a crow screaming from his memory. At the age of 16, he and his father were walking on the bluestone road after the rain.

His father said to him worriedly: "The Japanese occupied Qingling Lake, and business is not as easy as before. They are all rascals."

"Then when shall we go back?" He asked anxiously.

My father looked at the road ahead and said, "When we meet the best pianist in Qingling Lake, ask him if he would like to go to Italy to develop together, and we will go back."

Bellu, 16, hates everything in China.

He remembers frowning and asking contemptuously: "Who is he? Can he play the piano as well as Michelangeli?"

Father didn't answer, just laughed.

The shrill strings on the stage speak for the dead.

——Call me for me: let's be a guest!If you die in the wild, you won't be buried, but how can carrion go and escape?

Bellou remembered that he walked into the gloomy Chinese courtyard very unhappy, and saw the high stools and small square tables that he would never get used to.

He often heard his father mention the place "Yiyin Yashe".

He has learned simple Chinese, and "yi" means lost, dead, not a good name.

But his father never forgot, and even visited the door himself.

Bellou remembered that he squeezed through the narrow corridor with his father and translator, and felt the more humid and gloomy air.

Suddenly, there were a few mournful sounds of the piano, which made him stand on the spot in a daze.

In a spacious Chinese-style courtyard, two strange men sat.

One was wearing a shirt and trousers, with short gentlemanly hair, and was listening intently to the piano.

The other person was wearing a moon-white gown, with bangs gently hanging down to his ears, he raised his hand to play the piano, his slender fingers rose and fell a few times, and Bellou's unforgettable melody came out.

He couldn't hear the sound of residual rain dripping on the slate, and he couldn't hear the laughing and commenting of the young man in the shirt.

But I could hear the interpreter's voice flatteringly telling my father: "Mr. Shen's ten strings are so beautiful in the world, he is unparalleled in the world."

Zhong Ying fingered the strings, and the sound of the piano was mellow.

——The sound of the water is exciting, and the puwei is dark; the owl rides to death in battle, and the sluggish horse wanders and screams.

Beilu felt the reeds in the stream and the unique tea fragrance in China.

He forgot what the translator and Shen Ling said, but he remembered that the young man in the shirt berated them angrily and wanted to drive them away.

Shen Ling helplessly stopped, and said the only sentence he remembered so far: "Zhiyuan, you can't be so unreasonable."

Before my father could tell in detail the importance Italy attaches to music, there were the sound of neat footsteps outside the door.

A team dressed in Japanese military uniforms rushed forward, and puppet soldiers around them shouted loudly in Chinese: "Shen Ling is here!"

Accompanied by his memories, the sound of the piano is even more sad.

——Liang Zhushi, why Yinan?Why North?What can you eat when you get the millet?Willing to be a loyal minister?

Shen Ling was captured by the Japanese army in front of Bellu, and the young man in the shirt chased him out of the door eagerly.

The porcelain and tea bowls in Shen's house were smashed to pieces, and Bellu saw with his own eyes that the bronze wares on the small square table disappeared out of thin air.

then……

Then, he heard his father tell the translator excitedly and quickly, "I want to see the Patriarch of the Shen family. I am Italian, and I can guarantee Mr. Shen's personal safety!"

They are here to invite Mr. Shen to Italy.

In the end, it became a matter of persuading the masters of the Shen family, believing that they could get rid of Shen Ling, and that they could protect the valuable property of the Shen family.

Bellew's memory is fuzzy.

But he still remembered the old head of the Shen family, after several rejections, he finally compromised and came to the door with several large boxes of antique collections.

Because after Shen Ling was imprisoned, the Japanese army came to rob and make troubles again and again, forcing the old man to write a letter to Shen Ling, threatening to kill the entire Shen family, and persuading Shen Ling to play for the Japanese army.

The Shen family had nowhere to go.

Ten strings of elegant rhyme, strings of urgent calls, for the deceased to accuse.

——Thinking of a good minister, a good minister is sincere and thoughtful: go out to attack in the morning, and never return at night!

Bellew is old, he has forgotten many things, and he still remembers many things.

He remembered his father counting his belongings happily, and said: "The Japanese captured Shen Ling, and he would not be able to get out of prison alive. Shen Ling is finished, Shen's family is finished, and Yiyin Yashe is also finished. But we are lucky, these things will soon be released. Treasures without masters, we have them, and we are the new masters!"

He still remembers his father sitting by the warm fireplace in the manor, reading letters from across the ocean.

One page is Italian translated by the ambassador, and the other page is Shen Ling's handsome handwriting.

The black-haired, black-eyed ambassador smiled respectfully with low eyebrows: "Mr. Shen Ling has traveled thousands of miles to send this letter, hoping that our friendship with Italy will last forever!"

The sound of the piano in the third rose hall awakened Bellou's hidden memory.

He suddenly felt scared, and he stared at Zhong Ying who was bathed in the moonlight on the stage.

He felt that what he heard was not the ancient and elegant handed down famous piano, let alone the "Yuefu Huaguang" written in old news reports.

What he heard was a spear, an arrow, stabbing firmly into his spine, picking out the bloody whispers in the depths of his soul.

Those whispers, from far to near, crawled on his heavy shoulders like ghosts.

Reminding him one by one——

"Mr. Bellou, you don't understand China, and you don't understand China's emphasis on cause and effect in everything, and reincarnation in the way of heaven."

"Mr. Shen has never blamed you for taking away the Shen family's belongings, because he knows that during the war, he can't help himself and has his own difficulties. He just wants to get back Yayun."

"The ten-string elegant rhyme is made of thousand-year-old ebony, and it is matched with carefully crafted ice strings. Even after 60 years, it will not be damaged like this!"

The memories that Bellu wanted to hide set off waves amidst the sound of the piano.

The thin middle-aged man in thin clothes that he also couldn't forget, seemed to be firmly fixed in front of him, his face was pale, like a ghost, enduring the pain, stabbing his heart and lungs every word.

Bellu grabbed the armrests of the wheelchair with both hands. He thought he had forgotten, but found that he remembered every sentence, every word the other party said.

Those incomprehensible Chinese linger around Shixian Yayun.

He was so frightened that he urgently urged the cultural relic restorer to repair the rotten piece of wood, re-cut it into a piano, put it in the museum, and finally gave it to Fan Chengyun.

He should have got his wish, he survived so many people.

Qin, or his piano.

How come the sound of karmic retribution and the pain of war can't go away, like the endless karmic fire of hell, coming to take him away!

The stage is full of light.

Zhong Ying flicked back, and the ten strings vibrated, resounding through the sky.

Before the applause started in the silent concert hall, an anxious call was heard——

"Mr. Bellew!"