musicians of old

Chapter 818 Freedom and Necessity

"Go back?" Ruoyi asked.

"There are still three or four days left. If we set off immediately, we can get back to a good hospital in China within two days, and we will still have some time for treatment," Fan Ning said.

"'Sol Ruby' is a dispersed, slow-release poison. After I ingest it, it forms thousands of tiny particles in my body. Any one of these particles contains a sufficient dose of neurotoxin that cannot be removed."

"There might be a possibility. I don't know much about dialysis, but the technology is more advanced now."

“Maybe it’s a fake drug.” Ruoyi smiled faintly. “The key question is, if we’re going to have to rack our brains over so many possible scenarios later, why did we take it in the first place?”

Fan Ning was speechless for a long time.

The two ate their dinner in silence as the trailing rays of the sunset faded into the horizon.

"Are you unhappy again?" Ruoyi suddenly asked.

"how?"

"You're not saying anything now."

"Should I be happy?" Fanning admitted.

“I want to hear Andante again. Have you written quite a bit more?” Ruoyi smiled at him.

"Yes, it's in the final stages."

"Next, I might want to listen to Schubert D.960."

“Okay.” Fan Ning stood up.

He took his laptop out of the car trunk and connected it to the mini wireless speaker.

He turned around and looked around again, then placed the speaker in a recess in the stone wall behind him.

Thus, this massive stone wall became a natural amplifier, with warm string backgrounds and somber andante themes echoing across the wilderness.

This is Fanning's soon-to-be-completed Andante, followed by the first movement of Schubert's D.960, and then the second movement in Adagio.

Fanning realized for the first time, albeit belatedly, that not only the slow movement of D.960, but also the last three piano sonatas of Schubert's late period had this characteristic: when the theme of the slow movement reached the recapitulation, a new fixed pattern would appear, which would slowly advance and change in each measure.

Like the last heartbeat before a person is dying.

“Actually, Fan Ning, let me try to comfort you.” Ruoyi rested her arms on the picnic table. “A person’s destiny is gradually formed in the process of eliminating one branch of possibility after another.”

"So what?" Fan Ning's gaze lingered on the Andante spectral composition interface of the "Sibelius" software on the computer screen.

"The possibilities of fate are the most abundant for those who are not yet born. Once they are born into a specific era, country, and family, a large portion of the potential branches are immediately eliminated. However, as newborns, they are still at the stage with the most possibilities. After that, every few years as they grow up, a portion of these possibilities will wither away. When they go to school, choose a career, or get married, the potential branches of youth, middle age, and old age wither away in turn. Finally, their fate is determined."

“So what?” Fanning repeated his argument. “You’ve ruled out all the possibilities for the later stages.”

“But we’ve included ‘the starry sky above’,” Ruoyi said.

"..." Fan Ning looked at her face. Ruoyi continued, "If I weren't someone easily drawn to 'truly serious topics,' there wouldn't be only ten days left. Then you and I would just be Instagram friends, and 'Years of Travel' would just be Liszt's 'Years of Travel,' without any strangely styled 'Indian chapters.' Of course, nothing is absolute. The future is uncertain and ambiguous. Perhaps, even without considering 'truly serious topics,' Instagram friends could become 'travel buddies,' and 'the starry sky above' could become a topic of discussion in the future. But that's a very uncertain branch, so I cut them out. I included you with a more certain possibility. That's what's truly important to fate, even if the price is only ten days left."

Fanning looked at her face, then shifted his gaze to the carpet, then looked at her face again, then shifted his gaze back to the carpet.

"It's as if you knew beforehand that I would shovel a piece of rainbow calcite into your hand in the fluorescent mine of Kalpa before you even took the 'Sol Ruby'."

“Who says it can’t be?” Ruo rested her chin on her hand and smiled at him.

This extra day of leisure from the trip to Himachal Pradesh has now come to an end in this way and with this scene. All the scenes, the words Ruoyi had said, all the details and textures, have formed a rolling memory in Fanning's mind, which will inevitably play back frame by frame in the rest of his days.

But actually, besides that, there was a strange episode on this day, which was recalled in the form of a supplementary narrative. This was a very strange experience for Fan Ning. However, in the way that some events were narrated, he used a tone of certainty, such as "knowing in advance," which did not seem like a joke. Therefore, Fan Ning felt that perhaps in understanding "the possibilities and branches of fate," time and space are not always unidirectional.

The incident occurred after returning from the colonial church cellar and temple canyon, before heading to the summer ranch for dinner—it was already sunset, and the car had stopped in town for forty minutes to refuel and check the chassis, so Fanning and Jolie strolled around the area. As they passed a cobblestone street in front of a quaint little coffee shop, the public phone booth next to it suddenly rang.

The phone booth is for people to make calls, so how could it ring by itself? But the timing of its ringing was so perfect that it pulled Fanning back from his step, which he had been taking due to inertia.

"Hello, Fanning, it's me."

It was Fan Chenxun's voice on the other end of the phone. Fan Ning's mind was both dull and lively. He asked a series of questions, including where the other party was and what had happened, as well as his doubts about the "snow mountain accident" that Qiong had mentioned.

“I can’t answer many of the overly extended questions, son.” Fan Chenxun said calmly, “Because this is just a ‘message.’ I have no way of knowing what will happen later, nor can I wait until I find out, because perhaps by then I won’t even have the chance to ‘leave a message.’”

“Leave a message? I don’t understand.” Fan Ning laughed out loud. “Leave a message and have such a real-time and free conversation? You must still be alive, right? What about your mother? Is she alright? Tell me, what exactly does that overseas commission order related to ‘The Secret Realm of Apocalypse’ initiated by Scriabin’s descendants mean?”

“A ritual,” Fan Chenxun said. “A foolish, perverse ritual, one whose price is immeasurable. You are the price, and so am I. All those records and sheet music you often listen to, all those things you collect in your study, are the price!”

"A ceremony? I don't understand. Did it happen?" Fan Ning couldn't help but ask.

"It has already happened, and you have become the price, but it will happen again, and you may become the price again!"

"Listen! Fan Ning, time is running out! I'm making an incredibly difficult effort to tell you a sliver of the sinister truth that I can tell you, because I'm almost no longer myself. From now on, you don't need to try to find a concept called 'Fan Chenxun' or a concept called 'Donna' in a battlefield of conflict. Preserve the uniqueness of your own 'personality'!!"

The tone on the other end of the phone suddenly became extremely urgent.

“I’m so glad that I was able to get through on this call. It means that the methods and reminders I laid out have helped you get out of the initial trouble step by step. But after that, I can’t help you anymore, son! You just need to keep remembering those reminders, remember them firmly—your phone, text messages, memo log, and the sand on the riverbank!!”

"What is this? A text message? A memo? Sand!? I..." Fan Ning felt his thoughts becoming hazy and sluggish.

"Don't be fixated on meeting me. Perhaps we've already met, or even more than once. Perhaps there are still some lingering feelings and connections elsewhere, and I can still offer you a small helping hand in the end. So, just firmly follow the path you believe is right. Your mother and I wish you all the best!"

"Perhaps there is no such thing as a heaven in this world. May the freedom in your destiny overcome inevitability, and may you truly see the brilliance of this world!"

Freedom triumphs over inevitability? Will one truly witness the brilliance of the world? Fan Ning's arm holding the receiver had long since lost all feeling. Loneliness and loss instantly overwhelmed him. He suddenly looked up, realizing that the blood in his arm had almost stopped flowing from his own pressure.

The shop entrance features a flowerbed, parasols, a small coffee table, and a small wooden chair that two people can sit side by side.

Ruo sat beside him, resting her chin on her hand, smiling as she watched him wake up, a scene somewhat similar to the one that later took place on the picnic blanket at the summer ranch.

The public phone booth next to it was clearly an ice cream vending machine that had closed for the off-season.