world class art fanatic

Domenic was almost persuaded by him.

Over 1000 years old, Guqin has witnessed history and become history. It is indeed a rare work of art.

"It's incredible." Domenique sighed from the bottom of his heart, and suddenly came back to his senses.

"Ah, I mean... Even if you find it, maybe it's not what you imagined. Is it really meaningful to do so?"

"Have."

Zhong Ying's attitude is very firm.

He was as stubborn as every eccentric musical genius Domenic had ever met, and would never back down.

Domenic was very tired.

He frowned in resistance, and made up his mind, "Okay, kid. Don't mention this to me again, or I'll tell Old Bellu!"

Finally, his world returned to harmony and tranquility.

Zhong Ying rehearsed honestly, Li Jinqiu appreciated it with peace of mind, and Domenique was not ashamed of his threat to sue, and even felt sincerely grateful.

In the early morning of the next day, Domenic received a call from Bellew's housekeeper and set off for his old friend's house.

The vehicle was parked outside the door of a luxurious and magnificent mansion. The ancient carved stone pillars propped up a traditional wide manor. In Italy without imperial power, the Bellu family was almost a princely aristocrat.

The once distinguished pianist served the court, and he served the Bellew family with the same dignity.

Domenic followed the housekeeper in, and soon saw Bellew in a wheelchair in the sunny courtyard.

His hair was thin and pale, and he closed his eyes and listened to the soothing music beside him, as peaceful as any elderly person.

Domenic greeted, "Belu, what are you listening to?"

Bellu opened his eyes, and replied with a weak and clear voice: "Fan Chengyun's piano sound. Listen, how beautiful it is."

The simple sound of the piano came out quietly, playing the classic "High Mountain".

Domenic stood quietly aside, waiting for Bellew to concentrate on listening to the piano, while he was silently counting the age of the stringed piano.

Tang Dynasty, about AD 600 to 900.

His history is not good, and it is inconceivable to count it over and over again. How could a piano be about the same age as Gregorian chant.

When the guqin piece ended, Domenic asked tentatively: "Do you want to listen to a guqin performance alone? I recently discovered another genius."

Bellou made a disdainful air, and on his old and wrinkled face, there was a sarcasm in his smile.

"Except for Fan Chengyun's performance, the other guqins are all noisy, which will only disturb my rest."

As always, he despises Guqin players except Fan Chengyun.

Ever since Fan Chengyun came to Italy five years ago and held a masterpiece Guqin concert, the old Belo has become like this——

All the Guqins in the world are not as good as Fan Chengyun's Zhang Qing.

Domenic sat next to him with a smile and asked, "I really don't know why you only like Fan Chengyun."

Of course, Fan Chengyun was better than the guqin players he knew.

However, Domenic appreciates it from a musician's professional perspective, and feels that when playing the guqin to the level of a master, there is no distinction between good and bad, but only style.

But Bellu insisted very much, "He is different."

"He is different from any other pianist because he is Fan Chengyun."

They walked slowly back to the study from the courtyard.

The complicated and heavy door opened, and Domenic could see familiar decorations.

The letters sent by Shen Ling were inlaid in glass frames and hung in a conspicuous place in Bellu's study.

A piece of cowhide letter paper solemnly wrote down blessings and expectations in Italian. Even though he was a ghostwriter for the embassy, ​​Domenique could feel the deep friendship of Mr. Shen across mountains and seas.

Old Bellou often stayed in his study all day long, facing these 70-year-old letters, and remembering an old man who passed away 70 years ago.

He even felt that maybe Fan Chengyun's piano sound was similar to Shen Ting in Beilu's memory in some ways, which was why this spirited old man was so particularly touched.

Domenic read the letter slowly, and suddenly heard Bellou's voice.

"Domenique, do me a favor."

"what?"

He was terrified, thinking that he had changed from an ordinary piano player to a world human resources director, why would everyone want his help!

Domenique had a surprised expression and a violent heartbeat, but he still answered calmly:

"You say."

Bellu said with difficulty in a low voice: "I want to find an experienced qin maker to help me look at the guqin in the collection room. Its sound is not right recently, and the strings seem to be too loose."

As he said that, he specifically warned: "That person must be reliable, otherwise I won't worry about strangers approaching my private collection."

After listening quietly, Domenic immediately thought of Zhong Ying's words.

The ten-stringed violin sent back to China is a fake, and the real one is still here in Bellu.

At that moment, he wanted to agree immediately, taking advantage of this great opportunity to bring Zhong Ying in.

He was about to open his mouth when he saw Bellu's eyes narrowed slightly, as if spying on his heart.

"Oh, my friend, I'm just a piano player, how can I understand Chinese musical instruments."

Domenic came to his senses immediately, and he said in embarrassment: "Well, let me ask the cultural relic restorers in your museum for you. Haven't they repaired ancient zithers from the Tang Dynasty? They must be more experienced than any qin masters, just call them , I guarantee that your piano is as perfect as ever."

"No." Bellou closed his eyes and refused directly, "They are too busy."

"Since you don't understand, I'll ask someone else."

Until he left Bellew's mansion, Domenic didn't take the opportunity to ask about Qin.

This gorgeous and spacious manor has countless collection rooms. Domenic has seen many Chinese musical instruments, such as guzheng, guqin, dulcimer, and pipa. It can be seen that Bellew's love for Chinese music is not fake.

Moreover, there is a letter that Shen Ling personally entrusts the embassy to translate, which is enough to prove the true friendship between Bellu and Shen Ling.

Even if Bellou is obsessed with ghosts, it is justifiable to really hide the ten-stringed instrument.

Domenic comforted himself all the time.

Friendship is more important than art. Even if he helps Zhong Ying pretend to be a luthier and goes to Bellu's house, what's the use of seeing a real ten-stringed violin?

Steal it on the spot?

That's a crime!

When the vehicle arrived at the musical theater, the little bit of guilt in Domenic's heart finally disappeared.

He walked into the third rose hall with peace of mind and enjoyed the perfect performance inside.

Zhong Ying wore a simple shirt and focused on playing "Golden Bells".

And he stood under the stage, obsessed with the beautiful melody of this guqin concerto.

He thought that such an excellent and handsome young man, after being appreciated by Bellu, he said that the kid likes the ten-stringed violin and asked the old Bellou to give him a ten-stringed one, which would be the most perfect ending.

The child is too young. Seeing the ten-stringed instrument of Bellu's family, he might do something impulsive.

He's doing it for everyone's benefit.

At the end of the rehearsal, Zhong Ying left the stage holding the piano, and saw the pianist who was worried.

"Mr. Domenic..."

Domenic was like a frightened bird, only to realize that the stage was over when he came back to his senses.

"Huh? It's over? Then I'm leaving."

He was so nervous that he wanted to run away, Zhong Ying had no choice but to ask: "You don't seem to be in a very good condition, do you want me to play a song for you?"

"No, no, no." Domenique didn't dare to be alone with Zhong Ying at all.

The young Chinese, just talked about Qin's age, and his heart was turned and turned, and terrible thoughts arose in front of Bellu.

Listen to the piano again?

Maybe he will become a lunatic like Li Jinqiu!Completely bewitched by Guqin!

"Don't give me a hard time, kid, I'm just a poor piano player."

For his own money, Domenic toughened his temper and warned, "I don't like guqin, I hate it!"

"What's going on?" Li Jinqiu saw the injustice, "You actually hate my music?"

"Qiu, I didn't mean that..."

Domenic was too afraid of Li Jinqiu, "I mean, Guqin, I hate Guqin, it has nothing to do with who you compose or play, I hate it!"

Li Jinqiu frowned, and looked directly at Zhong Ying.

"You take the piano, I will take him."

Zhong Ying looked at him in confusion, and saw Li Jinqiu reaching out to grab the poor pianist's arms, leading him to the next room like a prisoner.

"Domenic, you actually hate such a beautiful instrument as the guqin."

Li Jinqiu pushed him down on the seat, and taught condescendingly, "It seems that you need to save your precarious music aesthetics, lest the music critics say 'an obsolete old antique, full of snobby brass' when you play next time. The stench is a disgrace to the Italian piano industry'."

After speaking, he raised his hand to command Zhong Ying.

"Play it for him until he likes it."

"Autumn!"

Domenic regretted coming here, why didn't he leave Bellew's house and go to see his doctor?

Feeling his resistance, Li Jinqiu folded his hands and said, "Well, it seems that you really don't want to hear it. Then I can only regretfully invite my friends who are music critics to give you some encouragement in your career."

"Listen."

Domenic is so annoying to those music critics, who spend all day giving pointers on newspapers, magazines and the Internet, hurting his self-esteem.

Compared with the overwhelming criticism, listening to the piano is not difficult.

Therefore, Li Jinqiu closed the door, and naturally sat in the best viewing position, preparing to supervise Domenic to listen to the piano.

However, Zhong Ying put the guqin away, turned around and said, "Mr. Li, can you give me a chance to be alone with Mr. Domenic?"

"I have to go out?"

Li Jinqiu frowned, very reluctantly.

Zhong Ying explained earnestly: "Mr. Domenic is upset, and listening to the piano is also to calm him down and cultivate himself. He may be even more disturbed when you are here."

"That's right." Domenic nodded crazily, feeling that listening to Guqin was too relaxing.

Li Jinqiu had a hesitant expression, and his eyes wandered between Zhong Ying's Qin and the troubled Domenic.

"Okay." He stood up and pointed to his old friend, "Domenic, listen carefully."

Like a strict teacher, he also collects after-listening impressions after private lessons, and will not be given a passing grade if he does not write "nice to hear" and "like".

Domenic couldn't laugh or cry, seeing Li Jinqiu leave obediently, and closed the door friendly.

He asked in surprise, "Son, what did you do to Qiu? I've never seen him like this."

Zhong Ying replied with a smile: "Because Mr. Li is a person who knows the piano. In China, such people are called confidantes. They will argue and express the most direct feelings for the music they like, so sometimes they seem a little extreme. .”

"I know, Boya Ziqi, high mountains and flowing water."

After Domenic finished speaking, he silently added one more thing: Bellu listened deeply.

"Okay." He has a lot of time, and he is not in a hurry to escape. After all, he has not listened to Zhong Ying's performance alone, and he is really interested.

He saw Zhong Ying tuning the strings and erecting the pitch-black guqin, as skilled as a luthier.

"What do you want to play? "Three Folds of Yangguan", "Three Lanes of Plum Blossoms"?"

Zhong Ying finished tuning the strings, put the piano upright in front of the table, and then slowly said: "A piece of Han Yuefu recomposed by Mr. Shen Ling. I think it is very suitable for you."

Domenic snorted and looked at him quietly.

Beilu attached so much importance to Shen Ling, but he couldn't find any of Shen Ling's music scores. How could Zhong Ying not only know everything clearly, but also play it?

He glanced at the lyre in Zhong Ying's hand.

This pitch-black guqin has a unique sound. It should be a good piano, no less than Fan Chengyun's Changqing.

Domenic always felt that the attitude of the Chinese towards Guqin was strange. Regardless of whether the Qin was old or brand new, they would give the Qin some names and regard the Qin as friends and relatives, as if these Qins would respond to their calls and be with them for life.

In the spacious and quiet room, thick and deep strings sounded.

Zhong Ying didn't signal, let alone say "start", his slender fingertips lifted the strings, and played the Han Yuefu with heavy scores.

Domenic was completely relaxed after a day of exhaustion, and he didn't mind listening to his "hated" guqin and playing pieces "suitable for him" at this time, so as to relieve his anxiety.

Zhong Ying wiped the strings with his fingers, sliding and scratching back and forth, making a strange sound.

Well-informed pianists know that this is called hand tone, which can increase the characteristics and appeal of the piece.

He let his thoughts drift away, imagined casually, and transformed the sound of self-cultivation into beautiful scenery in his imagination, so that he could feel the beauty of Guqin more comfortably.

The bell should be like a melody bubbling like a spring, and it should be playing a sparkling river.

Domenic couldn't help but imagine that there should still be an old and narrow fishing boat floating in this river.

Perhaps the boatman was dressed in shabby clothes, his skin was tanned by the sun, and his face was covered with stains that had not been washed off for many years, and his face was wrinkled when he laughed.He raised his hand and slammed the wet and sticky oar into the water, breaking the floating leaves on the water surface with a sound, creating ripples in circles.

He thought this kind of picture was strange at first, but with the sound of Lingling Qin, he felt the long-lost familiarity.

The strings were scratching, and the short voice broke the tranquility and Domenic's leisurely willfulness.

That short melody, as if someone was speaking, aroused his strong desire to explore.

Domenic pricked up his ears to listen, as if he was calling his name, but also as if he was whispering.

Suddenly, he realized that it wasn't Qin talking to him.

It's the childhood memories that he can't forget, constantly churning in his mind, gradually overlapping with the sound of the piano.

He stared at Zhong Ying's fingertips hooking the strings in astonishment, and he will always remember that scene:

Quiet rivers, dilapidated fishing boats, and ugly, crooked fishermen.

The other party stepped on the slippery fish-smelling net, mocking him from across the bank with a rough voice——

"Dom, are you going to see the priest play the organ again?"