musicians of old

Chapter 859 The Composer's Hut
The music did not stop because of the uninvited guest's intrusion.

After the initial "two short and one long" signal motif and the heavy, stubborn call of the French horn, each voice gradually intervenes with a rhythmic pattern like oars cutting through dark water, establishing a heavy and somber sense of movement.

Then, in the latter half of the theme, the band’s potential seemed to be suddenly awakened, bursting into a powerful and painful climax!

The texture is so complex it's mind-boggling. Multiple melodic lines and rhythmic patterns intertwine and clash with exquisite counterpoint techniques, yet are strangely unified within a tragic and grand narrative framework. In particular, the majestic and unsettling thematic transformations of the brass section seem as if nature itself is roaring at night!
Enveloped by such a surging sound, most of the team members gritted their teeth and continued to walk towards the riverbank, except for the sturdy leader, who calmed down a bit and frowned as he further examined the surrounding environment.

As one ventures deeper into the "shelter" from the transition zone, the suffocating dark green light, the cloying, putrid air, and the twisted, writhing landscape of the outside world gradually disappear.

Instead, there is an overly full, even somewhat artificial, brightness.

“These characteristics, these elements, no, no, the contents of the intelligence.” The team leader’s mind raced, his unease gradually receding, replaced by a growing excitement and disbelief.

Every investigator team that ventures out at great risk has a similar purpose and mission: to search for usable supplies and to locate and recruit people from the scattered "shelters." But in reality, there is an even more "rare and precious" priceless bounty—

Find the whereabouts or clues of that "number two" person from the former discussion group!

As experts at this level, the two team leaders knew more secrets.

During the "Maslenitsa" incident, Fanning's other identity, "Schelle," contained the "projection shell" of the Southern Dream in an incredible way!
Regarding that dream projection, there are some possible characteristics that we can speculate on.
Right now, walking inside the "shelter," the scorching sun shines down, the air is filled with a faint fragrance of flowers and the salty smell of the sea, and the hoarse sounds of water birds and the tides are constant in your ears.

If it weren't for the white sand beach extending outwards and abruptly ending at the edge of a swirling patch of color, everything would feel like waking up from a nightmare in the real world.

"Oh, it's not one of Koseli's men who came this time." A cold, girlish voice came from behind.

Following the sound, everyone looked and saw a girl in a light purple dress sitting in a rattan wheelchair on the riverbank, enjoying a sunbath, her feet covered in warm, damp sand.

"Miss Bologna!"

The team leader was the first to react, suppressing his excitement as he stepped forward to pay his respects.

"I never expected to have the chance to meet again after something like this."

“That’s not my name either.” The girl moved her lips with a half-smile, wiping a gleaming silver flute with a soft cloth in her hand. “The people from the Special Patrol Bureau still have such a keen sense of smell. This location is already quite remote. What, are you here to track down that ‘new member of the Bologna School and former principal flute player’ who disappeared a few years ago at the premiere of the revival performance?”

"You're joking." The team leader paused for a moment, then smiled apologetically. "It's an extraordinary situation, an extraordinary order. We've been ordered to investigate all suspected private 'shelters' in order to gather as much manpower as possible to search countless collapsed areas. We've lost a lot of manpower, and we never expected to find the most important and rarest target."

"You've worked hard, it's not easy." The girl nodded approvingly, "Even in this situation, you're still maintaining order."

The other party's tone and attitude made the team leader break out in a sweat.

The atmosphere of the initial negotiations seemed somewhat unpredictable.

The symphony that resounds between heaven and earth has entered the development section. The signal motif roars in the deeper night, countless thoughts collide and struggle fiercely, and the call motif of the French horn stubbornly emerges from time to time, only to be swallowed up by darker and more uncertain sounds.

"Um, I'd like to ask, what's inside this 'shelter' right now?" another knowledgeable person said with a cautious, ingratiating smile.

"Looking for Fan Ning?" The girl finally interrupted him in the most direct way, a strange smile curving her lips. "Hey, what are you up to?"

"I understand why the 'worm faction' has come to visit multiple times, but I don't understand why you guys have come. They think the current state of things outside is particularly amusing and want to see if it can become even more amusing, but you guys... I don't think so, do you?"

“You’re joking, Miss.” The team leader shook his head repeatedly, then gritted his teeth and said, “We are mainly on orders to invite Master Fanning to our current temporary headquarters, which is the ‘Central Control Area’.”

"Is something important?" The girl looked up with a half-smile.

"I have something important to discuss." The team leader nodded, eagerly awaiting a reply.

"There are no 'masters' anymore. Please leave, he won't see anyone." Unexpectedly, the girl lowered her eyes the next moment.

The group looked at each other.

“Your Excellency, this invitation is related to the leader's previous arrangements. We would appreciate it if Master Fanning would consider it!” another insightful person spoke up. “This is interesting.” The girl in the purple dress smiled faintly. “Pogrerich’s ‘strategic planning’ has been going on for so long, it’s even into the ‘afternoon’ now. His enthusiasm is really something. Even now, he can still pull off that. But at this time, isn’t the ‘Director’ still upstairs?”

"The specifics are too secretive for even those of us with deep knowledge to know," the team leader tried to make his voice sound calm, but his urgency was increasingly evident. "All I know is that the leader did make such arrangements beforehand."

The surging, struggling music suddenly stopped.

A calm voice pierced through the summer dream, coming clearly from the direction of the white house:

"Alright, Joan, let them in."

The embers of the music slowly settled in the air, leaving behind a vacuum-like silence that felt even heavier.

The white cabin is small and simply furnished, with several wooden curtains separating the area, and is equipped with tables, chairs, a piano, a fireplace, a hammock, and other items.

But whether it was the bright sunshine outside the window, the sound of the rustling water, or the aroma of tea in the air, all of these gave the investigators a kind of "gift" of respite and enjoyment.

After receiving Fanning's permission, Joan became more obedient, even to the point that everyone felt she was being unusually "polite."

Each person took a cup of fruit tea from her hands, then moved their stiff legs, repeatedly thanked her, and sat down in the wicker chairs.

They met Fanning, who was sitting behind his desk.

The first impression was somewhat unexpected.

Based on intelligence analysis, this former number two figure in the discussion group, the only "torchbearer" of the post-Romantic era, already possessed the ability to advance to "Order Master"! At that time, it was just because the timeline was too tight, and in order to practice the principle of "ascending through art," he was waiting for the complete integration of his multiple artistic identities upon his return.

Now that the "time sequence is unified" point has passed, he has likely already completed the passage through the door.

This is a piece of pre-reserved intelligence, meaning that the intelligence was predicted ten days in advance.

Now that the situation has deteriorated to this point, intelligence personnel in the "central control area" of the Special Patrol Bureau believe that if Fan Ning were still alive, he would probably not be easy to deal with.

Emotions, or attitudes, etc.

But when the investigation team actually met Fan Ning today, they found that his clothes and expression seemed no different from usual.

He seemed to still be composing, his hand holding the pen writing intermittently.

Occasionally, I would press my fingers to my temples, trying to grasp some vague fragments of music.

Everyone sat anxiously opposite, but dared not move.

It probably felt like three or four hours had passed when Fanning started crumpling the paper into balls.

One sheet after another, one after another, until the creative "progress" reached zero, all the previously written scores that everyone could see were swept to a corner of the table by Fanning.

This seems to be a very stumbling and difficult creative process. It's hard to imagine how it could be related to the "Signal and Roar of Night" that everyone had heard before, even though the latter's music sounded so ingenious and seamless.

However, Fan Ning's expression remained calm, as if this scene of crumpling paper had become a habitual occurrence many times recently. After putting down his pen, he glanced at everyone and finally spoke:
"You should be able to guess why we were able to meet this person."

"Because I became slightly interested, though only by a pitiful amount, but you can imagine how rare that is in today's world."

Fan Ning lifted the lid of her teacup, took a sip, and then leaned back in her seat.

"Well then, in about a minute or two, before my meager interest wears off, you can start organizing your thoughts."

(End of this chapter)