musicians of old

Chapter 820 Brezhnev's Secret Letters and Curse

As dusk settled, the horizon took on a crab-shell blue hue, and the once dazzling snow slopes were tinged with steel blue.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel okay."

Ruoyi's scarf was covered in white frost, and she was breathing out hot air. Seeing this, Qiong bent down and pulled her up onto a higher step in front of her.

"We've been climbing for over three hours. According to the plan, we'll hold on for another hour and then set up camp to rest for today." Fan Ning glanced down at his watch, then looked at the high point of their destination and the low point they had come from.

Not long ago, he witnessed the moment when the peak swallowed the last ray of sunlight, and the mountain instantly transformed into a giant, dark blue monument.

The blurry outline of the base camp below had shrunk, and the headlamps of other climbers began to light up one by one, like a swarm of fireflies rising and wriggling. Of course, there were also a few beams of light cast down from our own side.

"call!!--"

A cold wind swept by, swirling ice crystals that danced in the beam of light.

An hour later, the tent's steel cable was finally launched into the air and, with a few clanging sounds, embedded itself in the leeward hollow of the moraine.

Fanning secured the lamps to the top of the tent and adjusted them to a soft brightness. The stove hissed, spewing blue flames, and the chill began to recede.

"Sizzle sizzle sizzle".

The steam rising from the frying pan carries the aroma of cumin from Momo dumplings filled with yak meat, Aktori pancakes are rolled up in butter with golden edges, and the caramel dripping from Kulu trout brushed with wild honey falls into the flames, exploding into cypress-scented sparks.

Joan sat cross-legged on the moisture-proof mat, her wine-red hair damp with steam. The little girl, who was holding Momo's hand, suddenly stopped: "Did you bring the entire Michelin kitchen up here?"

"You flatter me." Fan Ning lifted the lid of the pot, the steam blurring his vision. "I packed and froze these in Dharamshala and Kalpa a couple of days ago. They were delicious, but we've already eaten most of them. Starting tomorrow, it'll just be instant food and Snickers bars. No matter what you're doing or how you feel, you have to eat well."

Ruoyi used the tip of a spoon to shape the pancake into a mouth-friendly form. After chewing three or four times, she choked and coughed, letting out several whistling sounds. She drank water and patted her chest, and it took her a long time to swallow the food again.

"Take dexamethasone tonight. In your case, it will only have a noticeable effect if used in combination with acetazolamide." Seeing Ruoyi's reaction, Qiong calmly gave professional advice and pointed to the portable oxygen cylinder next to her. "I think you must have learned some quick techniques. When you are breathing oxygen, you should also keep the habit of abdominal breathing. Inhale for three or four seconds, hold your breath for six or seven seconds, and exhale for seven or eight seconds."

"Damn, it's so cold." Fan Ning lifted the curtain to pour out the coffee grounds and saw the moonlight flowing like mercury on the ice field. He paused for a few seconds longer, and a biting wind carrying ice shards rushed into his collar, making him shiver.

“Even though your altitude sickness symptoms aren’t obvious, don’t take them lightly.” Joan’s gaze fell on Fan Ning again, her voice youthful yet calm. “You should still take your medication. To fulfill my two conditions, you’ll still need to expend some extra energy.”

"You destroyed the secret mountain markers you saw along the way, and burned the sheet music that looked like 'The Secret Realm of Apocalypse,' right?" Fan Ning recalled succinctly. "The conditions were a bit strange, and to be honest, I wasn't sure. If the marker was a huge thing, how would you define 'destroyed'? What if you couldn't destroy it? And how could you guarantee you'd see the 'Secret Realm of Apocalypse' sheet music in such a vast expanse of white snow?"

“I’m saying, why don’t you just come up to the top with us? If you don’t ‘supervise’ us, we might cut corners too.” After breathing oxygen, Ruoyi’s face finally regained color.

“I can’t go to the top.” The firelight flickered in Joan’s eyes, her purple sleeve slipped down, and she looked down at the altimeter on her wrist. “It’s 5990 meters now, which is about 6700 meters at most. I can’t go any further.”

"Why?" Ruoyi couldn't help but ask.

The publicly known height of L Peak is 6818 meters, while the secret peak R Peak is close to 7000 meters. That is, it is impossible to climb it if you are about 100 meters away from L Peak or about 300 meters away from R Peak.

"Because of the curse."

The young female guide sighed.

"Perhaps it could be considered a mental illness, or some kind of unknown curse. The descendants of worm scientist Scriabin.KI are all like this."

"As we age, our dreams gradually become thinner, and we basically stop dreaming altogether before adulthood. On the contrary, 'flashes' gradually appear and fill our waking world."

"A fleeting thought? Does it mean something like a hallucination?" Ruoyi frowned, puzzled.

"It's much more real than a hallucination, maybe it's even real. You'll 'immerse' or 'observe' many other perspectives, perspectives from different times, spaces, and characters, fleeting thoughts, and rapid zooming in and out of perspectives. These perspectives will grow and conflict like cancer cells, squeezing out your original self-awareness. No one in our family has survived to middle age; they all eventually commit suicide amidst unbearable flashes of thought."

"That sounds terrifying, how could this be?" Ruoyi frowned.

Joan showed the two a yellowed tattered letter. Fan Ning recognized the handwriting as being the same as the signature on the yellowed photograph on Joan's porch, indicating it was from the same person.

To the esteemed Comrade Brezhnev:

Worms must be eradicated, and to eradicate them, they must first be studied. But in the end, it turns out that "worm science" is something that cannot be studied. How can all these paradoxes be resolved? I don't know, but research on "The Secret Realm of Revelation" must be stopped immediately. Since Scriabin.AN passed away 50 years ago, it's best to let his "conceptions" remain forever in the "conceptions" of the Himalayas.

—Scriabin.KI and Shostakovich.DD in 1965

"Brezhnev?"

Fan Ning stared at the heading of the secret letter and frowned.

To his surprise, it wasn't just the upward strokes that surprised him, but also the second signature in a different handwriting. The composer Shostakovich's signature was also prominently displayed above it!
"So your great-grandfather participated in the research of 'The Secret Realm of Revelation' during the Soviet era. Other participants included Shostakovich. But at some point, they jointly advised the Supreme Leader to stop it. Did this letter receive a response and have any effect?"

"Whether it was actually delivered to Brezhnev is unknown."

Qiong shook her head and took another bite of the dumpling.

"The arms race between the two opposing camps during the Cold War was almost frenzied, and in addition to military technology, the study of 'psychic supernatural powers and mysticism' was also an area of ​​great interest to several generations of leaders. The advice of a scholar or an artist could probably have a very limited effect."

"Judging from subsequent historical records, the research activities of the 'Neurology Laboratory of the USSR Academy of Sciences' continued as scheduled and were not interrupted. My great-grandfather was still in charge of this work."

"But he may have subtly led the research direction of 'The Secret Realm of Apocalypse' astray behind the scenes. The two groups of people in the team split up, one group tended to study the music itself, and the other group tended to study the mystical texts, worms and other supporting elements. Gradually, a gap appeared in the cooperation."

"Thus, the research work did not achieve any success 'smoothly' during the Soviet period, but it is difficult for one person to decide what happens after his death. More than 30 years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, on the centenary of the death of composer Scriabin, 'The Secret of Revelation' seems to have reappeared."

"For my father, this was a chance to find out why the family was afflicted with the curse, or even to break it completely. He took me, a young child, to settle in a foreign country. He eventually joined the mercenary team for that tribute event, then had an accident, survived, went insane, and soon committed suicide. Finally, it all came to me."

After listening, Fan Ning remained silent for a while: "Could it be that fulfilling those two conditions will allow me to break free from the curse? Was this what your father told you before he committed suicide?"

“I guess so, but I can’t be entirely sure,” Joan said, fiddling with the bamboo skewers in the campfire. “Before my father died, his world was filled with ‘flashes of thought.’ These things drove him mad. The words he left behind, which are called ‘prophecies,’ might actually be just nonsense.”

"Could you give us a more detailed account?" Ruoyi asked.

He said that worms are a product destined to proliferate under the law of cause and effect, and cannot be eradicated. However, only worms at the end of things grow fat and strong. Destroying the "Secret Realm of Apocalypse" will make them wither. Then, when the signposts to the secret mountain are destroyed, the "sanctuary" that helps me resist the erosion of "flash thoughts" will appear.

Fan Ning pondered without speaking.

If one could say that his father Fan Chenxun's last phone call could be considered a kind of "last words"...
He felt that both of their last words were unresolved, full of mysteries, yet intricately connected.

"In short, I can't get too close to the summit of the secret mountain, or the progress of the flash of inspiration will deteriorate rapidly. As for the curse and such, let fate decide. Whether it's a signpost or sheet music, if you really find the remains of the fallen artist or a memorial site up there, it's quite possible you'll find the sheet music. Bring a few more lighters."

Nothing more was said that night. When the morning light broke through the clouds the next morning, Fan Ning was the first to step out of the tent. He looked up and saw rows of icicles hanging between the rock crevices, which refracted into rainbow-like stripes on the ground as the morning light pierced through.

"Keng!!"

The ice axe swung in a sharp arc, slicing an ice spike that shattered upon impact with the ground.

Fan Ning stepped forward and used the tip of his pickaxe to break the ice into even smaller pieces. Then he squatted down and frowned as he looked at the shriveled and brittle things inside the ice crystals.

A freeze-dried snail with unusually bright and raised tentacles.

The trip started soon.

Today, Ruoyi's physical condition has improved slightly, but not significantly, thanks to Qiong's guidance and medication adjustments yesterday. However, she seemed afraid of worrying everyone, so she waved boldly before setting off, then shouldered her oxygen tank and walked silently in the middle of the group.

The glacial moraine, like the spine of a giant beast, stretched out before us. The L-peak stood jagged like a severed finger beside the bright light of the sky, while the possible "R" position opposite it was obscured by nothing but clouds and ice fog that blotted out the sun.

"Follow the ridgeline! There are hidden fissures all beneath the glacial till!"

The mountain peaks stretch endlessly, their steep saddles covered with a blue, icy glaze that gleams like ceramic in the sunlight.

Qiongbian tapped the rock wall with his ice axe as he gave a warning. As the light gradually intensified, some of the icicles hanging upside down from the cliff or crevices fell one by one and disappeared into the eerie green light of the valley floor, which glowed like hemlock.

"At an altitude of 6290 meters, we're almost at the fork between L and R peaks." Joan exhaled white breath. "The last section is very winding and difficult, but after turning, I can accompany you for a short distance, at least until tonight."

Seeing that everyone was in good spirits when they set off today, she didn't call them to set up camp, rest, or have lunch at noon. She only took a short nap an hour earlier and heated up their drinks.

Altitude 6385 meters.

"How about we rush until 2 p.m. and then set up camp? We'll be at the fork in the road soon." Joan glanced down at her pocket watch, which pointed to 1:30 p.m.

Everyone unscrewed their energy drinks and took a swig. Fan Ning tightened the brake bolt on the rope, about to swing his ice axe and say something.

From behind a giant, jagged ice tower, a series of orange-yellow figures suddenly appeared!

"We've been waiting for you for a while, young men and women." The long-haired deputy toyed with the multi-functional entrenching tool in his hand.

The last person to emerge, the leader, was not wearing mountaineering clothes or a helmet, but only a gray cashmere coat. He slowly took off his sunglasses, revealing his signature slicked-back silver hair and a mocking gaze that seemed to be both smiling and not smiling.

Fan Ning and Ruoyi exchanged a glance, their expressions becoming subtle.

I had met this person once before at the Gongjue Tea House. He was none other than Leriqi, who controlled the entire mountaineering market in Himachal Pradesh!