world class art fanatic

The hall is spacious and quiet, but the harsh sound of whistling can be heard.

Ning Mingzhi looked directly at Zhong Ying, his face was pale, his lips trembled, and he was almost suffocated with anger.

He grabbed the armrest of the wheelchair, leaned forward, and could only be nailed to the wheelchair powerlessly. He had no way to grab Zhong Ying and tell Zhong Ying to shut up.

"You lied to me, you lied to me..."

Ning Mingzhi's voice was weak, as if he was about to die, he repeated persistently, persistently comforting his miserable self.

There was an apprentice whispering advice in his ears, and he could still hear the footsteps of someone running out.

But Ning Mingzhi's eyes, blinking and blinking, were fixed on Zhong Ying.

The young man was wearing a blue sportswear, very much like Shen Ling in a dark blue gown.

No matter how many things Ning Mingzhi has forgotten, he can still remember Shen Ling's smiles, words and deeds.

Even if Shen Ling is blinded by some national hatred and family hatred, it is Shen Ling who has never wavered in his memory, focusing on traditional music and culture.

When Ning Mingzhi heard the news of Shen Ling's death after the end of his friendship, he was truly in a state of despair for a long time.

He no longer prayed for preferential treatment from Japanese military officers, lingered in taverns, tea houses and theaters, indulged in Kabuki, Noh, and the new dance, and indulged in sensuality.

Suddenly one day, he got drunk, listened to the sad and stingy string music on the stage, suddenly grieved and depressed, and climbed onto the stage like crazy.

The performer looked astonished, and the audience exclaimed.

Only Ning Mingzhi, who was drunk, stared wide-eyed and scolded her fiercely in Japanese.

"You don't know the piano at all, you don't know the music at all!"

He snatched the other party's musical instrument, placed it directly in front of him, and plucked the thirteen strings.

It doesn't matter that this is a Japanese koto, not a qin from Yiyin Yasha.

Ning Mingzhi's expression was solemn, playing a sad mood.

Shen Ling used to be sad and distressed because of his lack of feelings, but now he felt the heart-wrenching pain of parting after drinking in a daze.

Love is placed on the strings, and the sound weeps for him.

The already mournful zither strings resounded through the ugly "Yi Lan Cao", and still shocked the narrow and dark theater.

Ning Mingzhi couldn't remember how long he had been playing.

He only remembered that following Shen Ling's careful teaching with his fingers, he finally fully expressed the sadness and sorrow that "Yi Lan Cao" should have.

But he couldn't wait for Shen Ling's compliment.

I only waited for a respectful and surprised inquiry——

"Sir, which master's disciple are you?"

Such a question opened the era of Zaining Wenzhi.

The other party's status is extraordinary, and he is backed by a family member who can shake the ground by saying his name, which instantly opened up a bright and smooth path for the depressed Ning Mingzhi.

As long as he plays the music of the thirteen stringed zither with the thirteen strings, he can be praised.

As long as he used the shamisen plectrum instead of the bamboo ruler made of thirteen strings, he could shock the Japanese music world.

It was originally a musical instrument passed down from China. After thousands of years, it has replayed the legacy of the Han and Tang Dynasties in Ning Mingzhi's hands.

The music composed by the Han Yuefu is bleak and majestic, and on the strings of the Japanese koto and shamisen, there is a distinctive restraint and desolation.

Some people shed tears when they heard it, and some people were disappointed when they heard it, and asked like crazy: "What's its name?"

Faced with countless people's admiration and praise, Ning Mingzhi said calmly: "This song is called "Yellow Spring". It comes from "Ancient Events"."

The Yellow Springs are separated, and one does not change one's aspirations.

The living cherishes the heart, and the dead breathes long.

A piece of "Yellow Spring", from the Japanese thirteen-stringed zither, playing the shamisen, and playing the shakuhachi and taiko ensemble, finally changed from the "Han Yuefu" of the Yiyin Yasha to the "Ancient Matters" of the Zaining School.

Ning Mingzhi, as the record of Ning Wenzhi, played the lost ancient music.

Just like thousands of years ago, Japanese monks came back from the east, imitating traditional Chinese myths and stories, creating the first history collection, offering it to the emperor, and becoming the master Zaining who opened up the world.

But now, Master Zaining's legs can't move, and his arms can't move.

He felt the world spinning and his body fell onto the hospital bed. He could only turn his eyes and shed tears. Under the desperate rescue of the doctors, he repeated over and over again——

You lied to me.

He is the one who really understands Shen Ling.

He fulfilled Shen Ling's wish that could not be fulfilled, recovered the ancient voice that had been lost for thousands of years, and completed a great cause that was absolutely impossible to complete in the country opposite the East China Sea!

Behind Ning Mingzhi's reputation as "Zaining Wenzhi", there are two figures of him and Shen Ling.

Now that Japanese culture and art are sweeping the world, what he Zai Ning Wenzhi is doing is Shen Ling's longing for the future!

The door of the rescue room was closed and opened again.

Master Zaining was lying on the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen tube, his face was as pale as death.

"What's wrong with Master!" the disciples' voices were anxious.

The doctor's voice was steady, "We need the family members present. Although you are a disciple of the master, we would like to ask Ms. Jingzi to speak alone."

Ning Mingzhi's eyes were gray, he didn't know what happened to him, but he was conscious, his body was heavy, and he couldn't move an inch.

The breathing is still there, the heartbeat is still there.

But he couldn't bend his fingers and turn his neck, allowing himself to be pushed into the ward.

It wasn't until Jingzi rushed to the hospital that he lay on the bed with his eyes open, and heard the doctor say:

"Ms. Jingzi, Master Zaining should be paralyzed."

There was a low whimper, and all unbelievable eyes were focused on Ning Mingzhi.

Ning Mingzhi's eyes widened, wanting to speak out and refute loudly.

How could he be paralyzed? !

Help him up!

However, his voice was blocked in his throat, and he could only feel a burst of suffocation.

The oxygen poured into the nasal cavity became irritating and pungent, the pain made his eyes go dark, and he passed out!

The Zaining mansion became very quiet.

Because Ning Mingzhi was sent to the emergency department, the apprentices followed him to the hospital in a panic.

Only the quiet servants were left, listening to the leisurely piano music as always.

"I used to hate playing the piano."

Li Jinqiu played happily and casually on the black and white keys.

"But now, you can let me play the piano all day and all night. Besides, it's quite nice."

He was brooding about his poor piano skills, but after the arrogant "Hypocrite" and the magnificent and simple "Jing Xing", Li Jinqiu's confidence in his piano doubled.

Zhong Ying sat next to him, smiling as he watched his fingers flutter, and heard the happy voice of this great composer.

"The main reason is that you are in a good mood and everything you play sounds good."

As he said that, Zhong Ying also stretched out his hand, chasing Li Jinqiu's melody, and played a chasing game on black and white piano keys.

The spacious 88-key piano carries the notes that two people connect with each other.

As long as Ning Mingzhi is not around, as long as Ning Mingzhi is in trouble, they can play four hands together in a happy mood, and reminisce together the song "Hypocrite", which expresses their hearts and denounces the villain.

Three days passed, and Zhong Ying's life was peaceful and peaceful.

He hadn't seen Yuan Shan come to greet him for a long time, so he picked up the Zhuqin and carefully unwound the strings.

Li Jinqiu has seen the process of maintaining many musical instruments, but this is the first time he has seen Zhong Ying focus on an ancient Zhuqin with his own eyes.

Thousands of years have turned into layers of lines, hidden under the dark mahogany paint.

Zhuqin is not like the elegant rhyme of ten strings, with snake scale patterns and plum patterns all over the body, but it seems to be constantly refurbished and painted to protect the fragile body of the piano from erosion.

Zhong Ying hadn't checked a piece of Zhuqin completely, when he heard soft footsteps coming from outside the courtyard.

He turned his head to look and saw a strange woman coming in a kimono with respectful eyes.

"Ms. Shizuko, please go to the Japanese room."

She seems to be Ms. Jingzi's confidant, and she came to Zai Ning's house not long ago, "She has prepared a projector for you."

Ning Mingzhi hadn't been in the hospital for a few days before Zaining's mansion quietly changed.

The Japanese room that Zhong Ying re-entered is still the same people and the same scene.

However, the owner of the Japanese room is different.

Ning Mingzhi leaned on the wheelchair with a dull gaze, unable to maintain a decent sitting and standing, and became wretched and weak.

No longer the same as before, justified.

"What happened to him?" Zhong Ying asked curiously.

It's a pity that Ning Mingzhi couldn't give him the slightest response, he could only roll his eyes with difficulty to show that he was conscious.

"After my father was rescued in the hospital, he woke up like this."

Jingzi's voice was still gentle, and she patiently explained, "The doctor said he can no longer move freely."

The tough and healthy old man suddenly fainted after a great grief and grief, and could not move when he woke up again.

Cerebral congestion, stroke, and high blood pressure are all diseases accompanying Ning Mingzhi's advanced age, washing away the brain that controls the body.

When Zhong Ying heard the words, he evoked a mocking smile.

His eyes fell on Ning Mingzhi's ugly cheeks, and he found that this man seemed to be running out of time, and his eyes were wide open, stubbornly wanting to speak.

It's a pity that I can only utter a low and painful cry.

"Father, don't worry." Jingzi said gently with a respectful attitude, "I know you want to read Mr. Shen's suicide note."

Suddenly, the babbling sound stopped.

Those eyes were shining brightly, revealing Ning Mingzhi's usual eagerness.

"I heard Yuan Shan and Zhi Xin talk about the things my father kept talking about before he fell into a coma."

Zai Ningzi already has Zai Ning's style of being a family member.

As soon as she turned her gaze, she could see the cronies outside the Japanese room, holding out a familiar wooden tray.

Seeing the phone, Li Jinqiu immediately came to life.

He was eager to get back the three mobile phones, and said with a happy expression, "I finally returned my mobile phone. Huh? There is still power."

The composer frowned, checking the information on his phone one by one.

He also handed over Zhong Ying's cell phone by the way.

Zhong Ying took back the mobile phone, and was not in a hurry to turn it on to check the messages, but instead asked, "Why do you have so many mobile phones?"

"A lot?" Li Jinqiu took it for granted, "Family and friends use this one, work contacts use this one, and play games for battery life."

The division of labor is clear and never redundant.

After he finished briefly, he hurriedly urged, "Hurry up, photos, photos."

Zhong Ying knew what photo he was talking about.

The Japanese room had already put down the huge projection screen, and Ning Mingzhi was sitting in a wheelchair, unable to move his limbs. The only photos he wanted to see with his eyes open were Shen Ling's suicide note.

Zhong Ying lowered his gaze, opened the photo album of his mobile phone that was always charged, and quickly found the familiar categories.

It is clearly marked according to the time and the person who belongs to it.

He clicked on "Shen Ling in 1947", and with the help of Jingzi, he could put those small photos on the wide and clear screen.

Ning Mingzhi couldn't see clearly, so naturally his disciples recited for him thoughtfully.

"Master, this is the diary written by Mr. Jingdu."

Zhixin's voice is soft, and she narrates the content that Zhong Ying is familiar with.

Shen listened to the last diary, looking forward to the reunion of Yiyin Yashe.

He uses vertical traditional Chinese characters, which is easy for Japanese apprentices like Zhixin who have learned and studied Chinese since childhood.

Ning Mingzhi's vision was blurred, but his ears were clear.

He couldn't feel the existence of his hands and feet, as if his body had been sucked out of his soul, he could only feel the unstoppable tears in his eyes.

In Shen Ling's last diary entry, he was thinking about Yayun and his friends who went to America, but he didn't mention him a word.

Turning over the short page, the traces of Shen Ling's existence have not completely disappeared.

Because, after that diary entry, there was half a manuscript, and Zhixin silently stopped her voice, while Yuanshan stared in surprise.

"Mr. Zhong, what is this?"

He couldn't help but speak, unable to believe his eyes.

Zhong Ying looked at the projection screen and said with a sigh: "This is the manuscript that Mr. Shen was writing when he passed away. He passed away before he could finish it."

That manuscript was written in a score that inner disciples of the Zaining school could see at a glance.

The notation recorded in the form of radicals of Chinese characters, mixed with his familiar fingerings, can be seen clearly at a glance, and the melody played by the thirteen-stringed zither can immediately echo in his mind.

Yuan Shan asked in a low voice as if asking for proof, "The music score written in this manuscript is "Yellow Spring"?"

""Yellow Spring"?"

Zhong Ying smiled wryly, the unfinished manuscript in front of him was "Yi Lan Cao" that Shen Ling wanted to change again before his death.

"If you say that this piece of music is the piece of music that sends Mr. Shen to the underworld, then it's true. But—"

Zhong Ying looked at Yuanshan with pity, "It's called "Yi Lan Cao". It is a new chapter recompiled by Mr. Shen Ling from the Han Yuefu music score, and it is also the music that Ning Mingzhi keeps begging us to play."

I begged Zhong Ying, Fan Chengyun, Lin Wanggui, and every Chinese who came to Japan to repeatedly paralyze his wishful thinking "Yi Lan Cao".

It was the friendship that Ning Mingzhi misunderstood, and it was an ancient song that made Shen Ling's heart ache.

Zhong Ying stared at the half of the manuscript and said with emotion: ""Huangquan" is a good name, Yilan Huangquan is just right."

He is relaxed and leisurely, but the distant mountains are struck by lightning.

In the manuscript written in 1947, every fingering is exactly the same as the secret notation of the Zaining School.

The master said that it was a mysterious music score in ancient Japan, and it was a movement left by the gods——

"Yellow Spring", "Heavenly Falling", "Genjian", "Yushan", the songs are all recorded in "Gushiji", inherited and carried forward by Zaining School!

However, the mysterious score he thought was not what he thought.

"...If this is "Yi Lan Cao", then—"

He hadn't been able to ask "Heavenly Fall", "Gen Jian" and "Royal Mountain", but the whispering from the side interrupted his chaotic thoughts.

When the young disciple turned his gaze, he could see his master's eyes widening.

The turbid eyes kept crying, the lips trembled and opened, silently calling their attention, just like usual, saying: read to me quickly!

Yuan Shan put away his doubts and obeyed his teacher's order respectfully.

"Master, there is a half manuscript on the projection, and what is written on it is the fingering of "Yi Lan Cao"..."

Scatter, break and wipe, pick and choose.

The more Yuan Shan read it, the more red his eyes became.

Kneeling next to Ning Mingzhi's wheelchair, he could see these vertical traditional Chinese characters clearly, and he could even feel it from his musical talent——

This piece of music is far more exquisite than "Yellow Spring"!

However, such an exquisite movement was broken on the last twisted and trembling complex "picking" finger. It seems that the person who wrote it endured great pain and could not continue in the end.

The sudden loss of strength of the pen is like the body of a pianist who fell when he lost.

Yuan Shan's heart ached, and he couldn't calmly say to Master: This manuscript is over.

He is young, and he has only been in Zaining's family for 16 years.

But he can know the past from such manuscripts and the music scores carefully collected by the master.

The master's heart is still and quiet.

He is an outstanding Chinese genius. He studied the movement of "Ancient Events" for the Zaining School, and became an unforgettable friend of Master Zaining in his life.

He didn't know what kind of person that was.

Maybe someone who is quiet and respectful of traditional Japanese music.

Perhaps it is someone who is talented and intelligent, and can discover the charm of Japanese music from books with few words.

Now, facing the last half of the manuscript in front of him, the last words that trembled and disappeared, he finally got to know this great gentleman.

This is Jingdu.

This is Jingdu who endured the pain before dying, wrote the last manuscript of Yiyin Yashe word by word, and crushed his decayed body into ink stains.

"..." The side breathed in a low voice, with rapid urging.

However, Yuan Shan trembled all over and knelt for a long time before responding: "Master, it's gone."

He burst into tears, and finally understood the ancient and unique Zaining school of fingering, where "Yellow Spring" came from.

He also finally saw how a faint candle flame burned all his soul and went out silently in the war-torn era in distant China.

The Japanese room was silent, and the last secret of the Zaining School was clearly revealed on the projected photos.

Ning Mingzhi curled up in the wheelchair, his eyes kept rolling, and no one responded to his orders.

Only Jingzi wiped away her tears, knelt down in front of Zhong Ying, and said softly: "Mr. Zhong, I will sort out all the manuscripts and videos of Xuewen from Yiyin Yashe as soon as possible, and send them back to Qingling Lake in full."

"Thank you." Zhong Ying will always remain grateful to this pure and kind lady.

He stood up, walked to the ugly and decayed Ning Mingzhi, and said in a clear voice:

"I want to go back."

The sinner in Zhong Ying's eyes was only an immobile body, like a cage tailored just for him, with an excellent size.

"I want you to continue living like this."

Zhong Ying suddenly took a liking to him, "Because you should enjoy this kind of life of 'you can't live, you can't die' more than death."

It will neither disturb the peace of everyone in Yiyin Yashe after death, nor can they live as they please.

I can only feel that the soul is trapped in the body, no one responds, no one helps, completely experience the pain and torture, and experience the repeated torment of a living dead who cannot be relieved.

Zhong Ying didn't look at him again, and walked out of the Japanese room in a happy mood. The outside world was sunny and the vision was wide.

Li Jinqiu followed with a smile, "When shall we go back?"

"Now."

Zhong Ying smiled, and walked lightly and quickly, "Take the Zhuqin, and we will go back immediately."

The heavy piano case was hugged tightly in front of Zhong Ying.

Leaving the Zainin mansion and boarding the plane back home, everything was quick and joyful.

Zhong Ying and Li Jinqiu sat side by side, the plane flew across the blue ocean and clouds, and quickly returned to the territory of the motherland.

Li Jinqiu couldn't wait to get out of the cabin, stretched his arms, and breathed freely.

"It's still comfortable in our own place, even the air is fresh!"

But his emotion was not echoed by Zhong Ying.

He turned his head and saw that Zhong Ying was blinking, his eyes were red, as if he couldn't adapt to the sunny weather.

"Zhong Ying? What's wrong with you?"

"I just, just..."

Zhong Ying couldn't spare his hands to wipe away the tears, so he could only raise his arms and wipe away those uncontrollable tears with his shoulders and clothes, so that they would not be ashamed to flood under the golden sun.

He wanted to say, I'm just happy that Grandpa brought back Zhuqin.

Just excited to fulfill Mr. Shen's last wish.

But he couldn't say anything, holding the thirteen strings in his arms, his feet were stepping on the familiar land, and he couldn't control his tears.

Even his voice was hoarse and choked up, sobbing softly.

It was the reunion they had longed for from birth to death.

It is a wish that countless people have spent their entire lives without being able to achieve.

Now, he is back, and Zhuqin is back.

It's time for Yuyin Yashe to come back.

"You're just too happy."

Li Jinqiu waited silently, helped Zhong Ying to add what he hadn't finished, and watched Zhong Ying cry wantonly like a child.

"We both understand."

He gently helped Zhong Ying wipe away his tears, and his eyes couldn't help turning red, but the corners of his mouth curled up.

The black piano case under the sun reflected the warm light, and it crossed the flames of war, telling the story of the sad and sad time.

The wandering musical instruments return at this moment, like the lost Yingying souls gathered in the sea, becoming a dazzling torch that will never go out.