world class art fanatic

The voice of the fisherman calling him was clear, and Domenic even remembered the other person's name.

He always called each other "Damn old John" or "Damn Fishman".

When Domenic scolded so angrily, the eccentric fisherman would always laugh out loud, which made him feel very ashamed.

Most musicians come from good backgrounds.

Because only wealthy families can support excellent pianists.

However, Domenique was different. He was poor and embarrassed. The first piano he came into contact with in his life was just the pedal organ played by a priest in a dilapidated church in the countryside.

He has talent.

But there are too many gifted people in this world, others are taught by famous teachers, they play the beautiful piano with complete melodies, and they have mastered perfect skills and knowledge.

But he only had the kind priest, after listening to his impromptu playing on the keys, encouraged him——

"Domi, you are a genius, you should go to Florence!"

Domenic has always had a dream of leaving Wiat and going to Florence.

While farming, he hated his own life.Until he was 12 years old, he finally got rid of his family and went to the place of his dreams.

Unfortunately, the beginning of the dream is the end of the dream.

There are too many talents in a music capital like Florence.

There are many restaurants, bars, and churches on the street. They don't need him, a country boy who has never even heard of Chopin, and they don't want his dirty and rough fingers to touch the noble piano.

Domenic could no longer remember when it was.

He walked to the street hungry, feeling that he would never see the sun tomorrow, and even wanted to throw himself into the river and end his ridiculous life.

In a moment of extreme desperation, he discovers an old piano that no one cares about.

An old dilapidated upright piano, with peeling paint and broken keys, abandoned just like Domenique was then.

They're all musical trash that Florence doesn't need.

Domenique stood in front of the piano and hesitated for a long time before finally pressing the remaining keys.

His fingers were stiff, hunger cluttered his mind, and only the melody was on his mind.

In the howling night wind, all his hunger, anger, and sorrow were smashed into the keys. The old piano couldn't express a ten-thousandth of his pain. Occasionally, it could only make a hoarse creak, emphasizing that it was thrown away. The reason for the drop.

The unappreciated riff ended, leaving only Domenique crying.

He would pass out at any time, and felt that music carried his lifelong dream, and he didn't want to give up on it.

I don't know how long it took before someone patted him on the shoulder and handed him a clean handkerchief.

Domenique's vision was blurred, and he saw an elegant and noble old gentleman, even the handkerchief he handed over was embroidered with his surname pattern.

That was Harrison Bellew.

40 years ago, he was still walking with a cane in the streets of Florence, and found Domenico struggling in pain.

He asked kindly and kindly: "Friend, do you want to play a real piano?"

Since then, Domenico has received the best teaching, has a real piano, and with his musical talent, conquered the discerning audience in Italy and became the owner of the premier musical theater.

Domenic has lived the life of his dreams. He has a house, savings, and a luxury car. No one will question his level because he doesn't understand Chopin.

As long as he plays the piano, he will make people forget all his miserable past.

Even he himself almost forgot.

He forgot his impoverished childhood in Viat Township, and forgot that he was Domi who was born in a dilapidated wooden house.

When Zhong Ying stopped his hands, the vibrato of the guqin gradually faded into the air.

Domenic wiped away his tears and cried out, "Damn it, what the hell are you playing!"

"Mr. Shen Ling re-composed "Elegy"."

Zhong Ying looked at the bewildered pianist, and slowly recited Yuefu poems from thousands of years ago in Chinese rhythmic habits.

An elegy can be used as a weeping song, and a distant view can be used as an angelica.

I miss my hometown and feel depressed.

There is no one who wants to go home, no boat to cross the river.

I can't speak my mind, and the wheels turn in my intestines.

"——This is a song that misses my hometown."

The long Chinese accent is self-contained with a chant-like rhythm.

After being translated into Italian, Domenico was even more melancholy.

"If you want to go home, there is no one, and if you want to cross the river, there is no boat."

In the far east, there are rivers like this, boats like this, and prodigal sons like him who have lost their loved ones.

The poems are so unbelievable that they seem to have been written for him personally, and they were born before AD, clearly expressing the anguish of being alone and having nowhere to return home.

Domenic has always buried the beautiful and painful memories of his childhood. Whenever he blows the river wind, he will think:

I have no past, no concerns, and there is no Domi in this world who wears tattered shoes and can’t eat enough. There is only Domenico, the great pianist of the Italian Musical Theater.

But after he listened to this song, tears told him truthfully: he was homesick, even if he was homeless.

The sad pianist, with red eyes, asked in a low voice, "How did you think of playing this piece for me?"

Zhong Ying stared at him, stroking the tone on the strings, and said: "I have read your autobiography, and you have spent a lot of space describing the friendship between Mr. Bellou and you, but you are unwilling to mention your hometown. You just said that it was a troubled and sad place, that you always wanted to go back, but you didn't dare to go back, and even if someone came to Florence from Viat, you didn't want to talk about the past with them."

"Before, I didn't understand why, and mistakenly thought that you hated your hometown."

Zhong Ying lowered his eyes to look at Youju Seven Strings, recalling the past when he asked his master silly.He said frankly, "Later, the master told me that this is called 'the closer you are to the hometown, the more timid you are, and you don't dare to ask people who come here.'"

After the Chinese verses with unique accents were translated into Italian, they were strongly refuted by Domenico.

"No!"

He said categorically, "I have no memory of Wiat, let alone any expectations!"

Zhong Ying looked at him calmly, his eyes were bright and clear.

"Then who are you sad for?"

Domenic stood there in a daze, his throat choked by the question.Suddenly, his tears flowed down uncontrollably, and he let out a low howl of injury.

"My mother." He covered his face and sobbed in a low voice, "I have forgotten her."

That was a gentle woman that he should never forget all his life. She struggled in the poor and remote countryside and died when he was 12 years old.

Without his mother, he had nothing to worry about, so he mustered up the courage to leave Viat and came to Florence.

But when he played the keys, when he stepped on the stage, and when he was recognized, he would always think of his mother's tears before she died.

She said, "Domi, why do you fantasize about things that don't belong to you. You're the son of a farmer, you can't be a musician."

Domenic thought he was remembering hate, but he couldn't cry.

He suddenly understands his peers who were once incomprehensible.

Those emotional guys will always be moved by Fan Chengyun's guqin, shed exaggerated tears, crying that they understand the music and can't help themselves.

He thinks that is acting, that is vulnerability.

Now he finds out...

It is a memory that one does not want to look back on, and the resonance revived in the music.

"You win, you're the scariest, scariest player I've ever seen."

Domenic's eyes were red, like annoyance and praise, "You can see through people's hearts."

Zhong Ying raised his hand and gently pressed down on the strings of the qin, and said, "It's not me who can see through people's hearts, but this qin and this piece of music."

"Mr. Shen Ling recomposed the Yuefu poems in order to preserve the eternal sentiments with music. There was a poem that said: Yuefu has been passed down for thousands of years, but the songs change and the hatred remains unchanged."

"There is no tune more suitable for Tang Dynasty Qin than Han Yuefu, to awaken our common soul."

Domenique listened quietly to Zhong Ying's words, and suddenly wanted to buy such a guqin.

It seems that if you buy it, you can buy 5000 years of time and your own heart that is being watched by the mysterious piano sound.

"Mr. Domenic, you left your hometown at the age of 12 and haven't returned home for 40 years. You should understand the meaning of "Elegy" better than anyone else."

Zhong Ying paused, and said solemnly: "The residents of Viat took good care of your mother's grave. Maybe their words were vulgar and their behavior was reckless, but they were very kind. Five years ago, when Master and I visited, They warmly led us to your mother's grave. Her tombstone is clean and tidy, with beautiful daisies blooming beside it. If she is still alive, she must be proud of you."

"Why do you..." Domenic looked at him in surprise.

Zhong Ying reminded helplessly: "Sir, Master once invited you, and I hope you can go to Viat Township with him."

Domenic vaguely remembered.

It was a rainy morning, Fan Chengyun stroking the strings, asked him endlessly, "When was the last time you went back to your hometown?"

Domenic smiled inexplicably, "Florence is my hometown, and I don't need to go back anywhere."

What did Fan Chengyun say?

It seems to say...

"We have all experienced the anguish of being away from home. No matter how unbearable and painful our hometown is, there are still beautiful memories worth remembering."

There was a melancholy sound of strings in Fan Chengyun's words, "I came here to bring home a friend who is far away from his hometown. If you are free, you should go home and have a look. Everything is not as bad as you imagined."

And what did he say?

He says……

"No, my friend, very bad. I can't even remember where my mother is buried. Maybe there's not even a stone left."

At this moment, Domenic realized that Fan Chengyun had really gone to Viate Township to visit the tomb that he couldn't remember clearly on his behalf.

There was a turmoil in his heart, and he would never understand why these two Chinese people were so nosy, so unafraid of trouble, so, so...for the sake of him, a ruthless guy.

The chat between Fan Chengyun and him has become the voice that keeps whirling in his mind.

He sat there silently, lost in his own thoughts amidst the stroking of the strings.

Domenic stared at Zhong Ying, at the pitch-black guqin, and belatedly understood what kind of "friend" Fan Chengyun wanted to bring home——

That ten-stringed harp.

Bellu was deeply moved by Fan Chengyun's concert five years ago, but he didn't give Fan Chengyun anything in return.

In the past five years, Fan Chengyun has come to Italy frequently, sometimes just to play music for Bellew, and even Domenico thinks he is too attentive.

Domenico was not surprised when the Bellou Museum planned to donate cultural relics to China.

The media praised Harrison Bellew's generosity.

But he knew very well that this generosity was tempered by Fan Chengyun's patience and one guqin piece after another.

However, Domenic can understand Fan Chengyun and "Elegy", but not Zhong Ying.

Because Zhong Ying and Fan Chengyun are completely different.

He is very young and has not yet established his own status. He is not like Fan Chengyun who has gained both fame and fortune and has no desires or desires.

But his actions and words are only more persistent than Fan Chengyun.

Domenic couldn't stop his confusion.

What kind of magical power does this piano have that fascinated the master and apprentice so much!

"Son, tell me that you are so outstanding and have a great future. As long as you play the tune, the audience in Italy, Europe and even the whole world will be crazy for you."

He asked in disbelief: "But what do you want? Is it only the piano?"

Zhong Ying looked extraordinarily calm in the face of his doubts.

He put his fingers gently on the strings, stopped the casual sound of the piano, and could still feel the crackling of the steel strings, as if the piano was answering Domenic's questions instead of him.

"Maybe you think that a musician should have higher goals and pursuits, and my behavior is unreasonable. But I came here to play music just to find it."

Every day and night, Zhong Ying is in China, thousands of miles away. Through Mr. Shen's diary, he hears the sad cry of Shixian Yayun who is far away from his homeland and homesick.

"Sir, it's old and I want to take it home."