world class art fanatic

The old man's eyes were hale and hearty, and he scolded Fang Lan mercilessly.

Fang Lan's face was bloodless, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

Her voice was sad, but she still apologized to Mr. He:

"It's my fault, it's indeed my fault. But uncle, Huisheng has only one wish in his life. He just wants to take Xisheng home for his master. How can you bear him to die without regret?"

Fang Lan's voice was mournful, and she didn't say a word to defend herself. Her tear-washed eyes were fixed on the respected elder.

"Uncle, Huisheng kept saying that he made an appointment with you, he made an appointment with you."

The old man remained silent, and the room was filled with a heavy sadness.

Zhong Ying saw that He Yuansheng's palm was trembling, and he was holding the cane firmly.

It seemed that he had to take great pains to refrain from banging his cane on the floor to give vent to his anguish.

Finally, he let out a long breath as if in compromise.

"You come in." The old man stepped back, his eyes still fierce and full of anger.

But, at least he backed down.

Fang Lan wiped away her tears and walked into the office again.

Fan Chengyun breathed a sigh of relief, and comforted him in a low voice: "Mr. He, Huisheng is not only hiding it from you, but also from me. If I knew this was the case, I would definitely tell you the truth..."

"Shut up!"

The old man was furious when he heard the words, "You and Huisheng lied to me together!"

Fan Chengyun froze, "I don't understand what you mean, Mr. He."

"You do not understand?!"

The old man grabbed the doorknob of the office, with a sarcastic tone, and stared at Fan Chengyun fiercely, "I understand very well."

Then ruthlessly closed the office door in front of him——

"Don't think I don't know what you've done!"

With the sound of "Bang!", Zhong Ying was startled all over.

He looked at the closed office door in panic, and then at the master who was rejected.

This was the first time he had seen Master suffer such treatment.

As a well-known guqin master, Master will receive warm praise and polite reception wherever he goes.

But the master is here, no matter how good he plays the piano, he is just a junior of He Yuansheng...

Still a very bad impression.

"Master."

Zhong Ying walked over and said quietly, "Don't be sad, Mr. He must be too sad."

The comfort from the apprentice made Fan Chengyun feel a little better.

He raised his hand to touch Zhong Ying's short hair, and sighed: "I know. Mr. He treats Hui Sheng like his own son, and white-haired people send black-haired people, no one can control it."

Fan Chengyun looked at the closed office door again.

"I just hope that Sister Lan won't be criticized too much, after all..."

He paused, and then said with difficulty: "After all, it was Bai Huisheng's idea, she just respected her husband's opinion."

The lobby of the Chinese Mutual Aid Association was quiet and dull. Zhong Ying and Master stood outside the office door, and could vaguely hear a little noise inside.

Fang Lan's crying voice was intermittent, but the old man's accusation was still sharp.

Zhong Ying frowned, although he couldn't hear clearly, he probably knew that they were discussing when Xi Sheng would return to China.

They were afraid that something might happen to the old man's emotions, and Fang Lan was too sad, so they didn't dare to leave without authorization.

So, they stood silently in front of the office door until a soft call came.

"Master Fan?"

Chairman Xie of the Chinese Mutual Aid Association finally arrived late.He came with his assistant, and when he saw two people outside the door, he immediately understood the situation.

"You already said it?" He looked surprised.

"said."

Fan Chengyun nodded, "Fang Lan is talking about Xisheng with him now, but I think Mr. He might not listen."

Chairman Xie sighed, stood outside the office door and paced back and forth, listening to the crying and grief inside, finally made up his mind.

"I'd better go in and try to persuade you." As he spoke, he looked at Fan Chengyun, "Master Fan together?"

"No."

Fan Chengyun stayed here because he was worried. Now that Chairman Xie came, he didn't want to hang out in front of Mr. He again, lest the old man would get angry when he saw him.

"I'll wait for your news, Mr. He is still angry."

After finishing speaking, he patted the clock and said, "Let's go."

President Xie and his assistant walked into He Yuansheng's office.

Zhong Ying turned around while walking, and could vaguely hear the old man's voice mixed with crying.

He was sad in his heart, and he didn't get better until he walked out of the Chinese Mutual Aid Association and was enveloped by the noisy traffic again.

Seeing his serious face, Fan Chengyun smiled bleakly and defended the old man.

"Mr. He was not like this before."

He has traveled to the United States for many years and held countless concerts, and each time he will receive flowers from the Chinese Mutual Aid Association. As long as He Yuansheng is in the United States, he will come to congratulate him in person and have a long talk with him all night.

Those warm and happy pasts, recalled after the death of a close friend, are always accompanied by an indelible pain.

Fan Chengyun and Zhong Ying walked beside the sparsely populated street and said with emotion:

"Now that I think about it, Mr. He is always talking about Huisheng with me."

The old man has kind eyes and will ask him about his daily life and research on the music score of Yiyin Yashe.

Naturally, he would also make insinuations, citing the content of Bai Huisheng's chat with him, wondering if his nephew who returned to China was really doing well.

Did he hide something from him, report the good news but not the bad news?

"Ke Huisheng still reported the good news but not the bad news. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, but he told Mr. He that he had a stomach problem."

Fan Chengyun smiled wryly, "Even I, even his friends, and his colleagues thought he just had a stomach problem!"

Zhong Ying stared down at the mottled ground under his feet.

A year ago, Mr. Bo was hospitalized because he felt unwell. He and his master were going to visit, but Fang Lan persuaded him.

"It's just an old stomach problem. I'll be home in a few days."

Fang Lan's voice was relaxed, and her eloquence was skillful, "The hospital is a mess, and it's nothing to see him sleeping on transfusions all day long. When he comes home, you can visit him again."

Indeed, within a few days, Bai Huisheng returned home.

When Zhong Ying and Master saw him, he was full of energy, talking and laughing happily, and said that he had gained a lot in the hospital.

Gained a lot of life insights, and harvested a brand new erhu score.

He also brought the erhu, and gave Zhong Ying an impromptu performance on the spot, with a deep and generous melody, full of optimism and passion.

No one would think that he was a patient suffering from cancer.

Zhong Ying said silently: "These are all Teacher Bai's ideas, but Mr. He thinks it is Teacher Fang's fault."

After all, she is Bai Huisheng's mouthpiece, and she will be the first to be reprimanded.

Zhong Ying feels wronged for her.

Fan Chengyun said: "It's not a day or two. Mr. He prefers Huisheng, so I have to blame you, Teacher Fang."

Bai Huisheng was studying in the United States, and Mr. He single-handedly helped him arrange everything.

From business, you can become the art director of a famous company, and from art, you can be the chief musician, and have an entire orchestra to tailor music for him.

The premise is to stay in the United States.

However, after graduating, he returned to China hand in hand with Fang Lan, and embarked on the road that Feng Yuanqing had walked——

Back to Qingling Lake Conservatory of Music to teach.

At that time, Mr. He was angry. He believed that it was Fang Lan's instigation and instigation that caused Bai Huisheng, who lived happily in the United States, to decide to return to China.

When Fan Chengyun said this, he felt that the past was like a cloud of smoke, and only the old man was stubborn.

"Since the day Huisheng decided to return to China, Mr. He may have scolded all of us..."

He laughed a few times, "Only Hui Sheng can persuade him."

It's a pity that the only person who can persuade the stubborn old man is gone now.

They walked around aimlessly, and Fan Chengyun finally asked, "Where does Xiaoying want to go?"

Zhong Ying thought of the records of Xi Sheng on the wall of the Chinese Mutual Aid Association, he said: "I heard Teacher Bai said that the Museum of Lyric College where he studied has a collection of Warring States chimes."

"I want to go and see."

The American Lyric Conservatory of Music is not far from the Chinese Mutual Aid Association, located on the border of Washington.

Since its establishment, it has trained many famous musicians all over the world, and it is also the alma mater where Bai Huisheng has studied for five years.

As an erhu performer, Bai Huisheng has learned erhu from his teacher and master since he was a child, so he naturally does not need American erhu teaching.

But what he came to study was music acoustics, and the objects of his research included not only the temporary sound of the Chinese Mutual Aid Association, but also the Warring States chimes collected by the Museum of Lyric College.

Zhong Ying has read many research papers written by Bai Huisheng.

He taught the students of Qingling Lake Conservatory of Music the science of sound intensity, pitch, and timbre that he learned when he was studying bells in the Warring States Period in the United States, so that some students who do not have musical talents can also scientifically and systematically master the "music" An interesting subject, on the strings of the erhu, arrange a melody that is pleasant to the ear.

Those descriptions and data about the Lyric chimes echoed in Zhong Ying's mind.

So much so that when he walked to the entrance of the museum, he seemed to hear the sound of the bell hammer striking the chime.

However, when he walked into the museum, he discovered that the bell was not an illusion.

"Master, someone is ringing the chime."

Zhong Ying's tone was full of surprise, "Lyrique's chime is the Warring States chime!"

The chime bell, a cultural relic of the Warring States period, is so precious that only archaeologists and researchers can get close to it. At this time, he heard a clear knocking sound.

The powerful and heavy bells echoed in the vast museum.

The percussionists don't have excellent playing skills, it's more like making them sound casually to cultivate their sentiments.

The more Zhong Ying walked in, the more he felt that he was at the scene of the chime bell performance. Listening to the bells that could not be tuned, he could distinguish the Shang Palace Zhengjiaoyu and Zhengyujiao Gongshang from the Warring States Period!

When they quickly passed through many museum collections, they finally came to the Warring States Chime Bell Exhibition Hall.

Fan Chengyun couldn't help laughing when he saw it.

"They're knocking replicas."

The Lyric Museum reproduced a set of 22 small chime bells with reference to the shape of the chime bells.

The thick glass next to it is the six-piece set of Warring States chime bells collected by the Lyric Museum.

Even if the sound of the bronze musical instrument is not a melody, it still makes the master and apprentice who came from afar smile.

They were depressed because of the death of Bai Huisheng, and finally cheered up a little in the long and melodious sound of the chime bell and the enthusiasm of the tourists for the chime playing.

This set of reproductions is clearly the museum's most popular exhibit.

Visitors are holding bell mallets and knocking on the bell body as they like.

There are still many tourists standing around. They are blond, or brown-haired and brown-eyed. They all stop in front of this set of restored chimes, eager to try.

"Xiaoying, try it." Fan Chengyun suggested with a smile, "This happens to be a 22-piece set, and it should be similar to the chime bells made by your grandfather."

Pretty much the same.

It's just that each piece of this set of chimes is engraved with retro inscriptions, modeled on the style of Lyric Warring States chimes.

The button bells on the upper floor are delicate and small, the Yongzhong bells on the middle floor are unique in shape, and there are six large Yongzhong bells at the bottom, which are exactly the same as the cultural relics of the Warring States period that are close at hand, and each one is half the height of a person.

Zhong Ying can even see the carefully restored lines inside the slightly raised mouth, which shows the exquisite craftsmanship of this set of replicas.

Such a huge replica makes Zhong Ying want to move.

He has rang the imitation chime bells of Fanlin Qinguan countless times, and has seen props chime bells on the performance stage. This is the first time he has come into close contact with such a huge Warring States chime bell.

With anticipation, he lined up behind the visitors.

Maybe his gaze is too eager, maybe his black hair and black eyes are of the same origin as the bells of the Warring States Period. Several tourists in front who were about to ring the bell all signaled him to come forward.

"Chinese? You go first."

"This is the chime of your country, and you must play it."

"Go ahead, I want to hear real bells."

Visitors should have great expectations for the clock.

It seems that just because he is Chinese and because he comes from the motherland of chime bells, he must be able to strike beautiful and complete melodies, showing the rhythm of the Warring States period inherited by this set of replicas.

Zhong Ying was also not humble, and walked over to take the hammer.

Nine button bells were hung on the upper floor, and the bells should reach out and strike one after another, making accurate tones.

The seven Yongzhong bells are placed in the middle layer, and the bells should be confirmed one by one with the tip of a mallet, and the six-tone scale with variable sounds is struck.

Six large Yongzhong bells hang from the lower floor, and the bell hammers of the bells pass by, which happens to be the complete pentatonic Zhengyu Gong Shangjiaoyu!

He was concentrating on determining the tone of each chime, full of joy in his heart.

But the intermittent sound of the bells disappointed the visitors.

Although the sound he made was nice, it sounded like a repairman. The sound he made on the steel pipe didn't have any sense of beauty at all.

Visitors expecting beautiful music were only disappointed.

Some even curled their lips, regretting that they gave up the front row to try to ring the chime.

They felt that the ding ding dong dong was boring and planned to leave, but Zhong Ying stopped.

The young man's eyes were shining brightly, and he determined the rhythm of each chime of this large replica.

I am more sure about the music I want to play.

So, he solemnly raised his hand.

When the hammer fell on the button bell again, what sounded was no longer the tinkling of the bronze vessel, but an incomparable sound that had been passed down for thousands of years.

The crisp button bell serves as the prelude, and the thick and deep Yong bell set off huge waves.

The melody echoing in the vast museum abruptly stopped everyone from leaving, making them unable to believe their ears.

Those bronze-cast bells, under the hands of a black-haired, black-eyed visitor, turned back into magical musical instruments.

It seems to hide a recorder, playing the music that has been prepared for a long time.

And that piece of music is better than the tunes they are usually keen on, and even better than the arrangement that the museum puts on the Internet.

It is low, it is passionate, it is distant, and it is loud.

It stirs up the desire hidden in everyone's heart, and arouses the light that everyone has never imagined.

A continuous aftertaste lingers over the empty space of the museum.

A set of chime bells that emit sound throws a room with exhibits into the ocean of music.

More people rushed to the Warring States Chime Bell Exhibition Hall for this beautiful and unique melody.

As soon as they entered, they could see a black-haired performer holding a mallet, striking the chime in front of him smoothly and skillfully.

As if it was his job, as if he had struck the set of chimes like this a thousand times, thousands of years.

He knows what sound each tap will make.

He knew the bronze on the front and the sides, with different tones.

He knew in which bronze bell to ring another bronze bell in the tail of the echo.

He knew better which two clocks could withstand the storm that was about to rise in the next moment.

At that moment, the chimes that sounded beautifully were no longer items made of bronze.

It is a perfect set of instruments capable of playing the oldest and most romantic music in the world.

The bell should be struck continuously as the end of the music.

The sound of bells reverberating like waves awakened everyone from their memories of thousands of years ago, made them smile happily, and raised their arms hanging beside them.

The museum applauded eagerly, as if this was some kind of improvisation scene.

The visitors who disliked the clock ringing like a repairman before, now have bright eyes and admire their original decision.

"I KNEW YOU WILL PLAY IT!"

"One more song, the section you typed just now—"

He even raised his hand excitedly, imitating the posture of the bell, "That's the part, let's do it again!"

Zhong Ying looked at Master with a smile.

Fan Chengyun nodded slightly to express his approval, and like other visitors, he hoped that Zhong Ying could play another tune.

"Try the score of Han Yuefu." He suggested, "It happens that this set of bells is about the same size as Xisheng."

The replica of the Fanlin Qinguan is just a set of small chime bells.

It is really rare to see such a huge replica that conforms to the bell shape of the Warring States Period.

Zhong Ying looked at this set of chime bells which he was already familiar with by heart, and thought of the Han Yuefu score that Feng Yuanqing composed again.

It was a piece specially selected by Mr. Feng for Xisheng.

On the day of the premiere of Yiyin Yashe, Xisheng sent a call to the people of Qingling Lake and expressed solidarity to the brave and fearless protesters.

It's just that it's grand and mournful, deeper than the instruments he improvised just now, and it doesn't meet the preferences of listeners who are keen on beautiful music.

However, Zhong Ying, with the hammer in hand, has already made a decision.

His first melody, starting from the eager knocking of the Yongzhong, produced a dull sound.

The dull sound interspersed with the echo of the bronze, and a serious performance resumed.

The vibration of each button bell awakens the breath of another Yong bell, and for a moment, two more Yong bells play different melodies at the same time.

They no longer sing the praises of wind, rain, sun and moon, they are inviting disaster and pain.

The high-pitched tone, hidden in the low melody, seems to be a helpless wanderer, facing the storm, shouting loudly——

no way!

This kind of tune is indeed not as romantic and brilliant as the instrument just now.

But its slow-moving coda is more like a thought-worthy cry, long and long.

Sure enough, the visitors looked confused, and the applause seemed hesitant and polite.

Fortunately, Zhong Ying didn't care about these things.

Visitors who live in a peaceful age and everything goes well and happy don't have to immediately comprehend the sad and resolute sound of this song.

He put down the hammer and was about to leave the chime when he suddenly heard a question.

"What song did you play just now?"

Zhong Ying turned around and saw a foreign old man with white hair and blue eyes.

He hunched his tall back, stretched his neck and stood beside him, laughing out loud.

"It seems to be telling a story, like a song full of affection, with deep and beautiful lines."

As he said that, he looked at Zhong Ying, and added earnestly: "It's like a person running in the rainstorm, shouting urgently in the doomsday: I will never give up."

Zhong Ying likes his poetic description.

If he describes "a song full of soulfulness," he may be commenting on Zhong Ying's riffs.

Then, the phrase "I will never give up" he said must refer to the music composed by Mr. Feng Yuanqing.

Zhong Ying was very happy. He didn't expect that in the far away America, there were people who could understand the meaning of this song.

"If you are hungry, you will not be eaten by a tiger, and at dusk you will not be fed by wild sparrows. Wild sparrows have no nests, so who are you proud of?"

He slowly translated this Chinese poem that has been passed down for thousands of years into English, and told this old American gentleman.

"This is "Race of the Tiger" by Han Yuefu."