musicians of old

Chapter 869 The Final Prayer
“Oh, you know that phrase.” A flicker of emotion crossed Fan Ning’s eyes.

“You told Sheeran, and Sheeran shared it with me, so you don’t mind, do you?” Joan said.

"Of course not, what else have you shared?"

"Anything else? That's all."

"It's only been a few years, but it feels like it was so long ago." Fan Ning shook his head and smiled, memories surfacing in his expression.

"The sunshine that Professor Anton mentioned should refer to 'the fire that never falls,' and to this day, I am happy to understand it that way, and I am even more willing to associate it with all the extended meanings related to it, just like I associate it with all the extended meanings related to music. Waking up in a bed filled with sunlight in the morning, strolling in a street full of flowers, watching the sunset, rainforest, lightning, dew, wilderness and sea, listening to the orchestra in the symphony hall hitting the hammer and cymbals on the strong beat."

"I, in the 0th history, was listening to such a concert one night, and then along with the whole world, I was erased by the 'disenchantment ritual' that took place on the top of the distant Himachal Pradesh mountain. After that, my cognition was abruptly connected to this history that had passed for who knows how many years."

"The so-called time travel incident, in reality, before and after my death, I am still myself. Apart from the letter left by Teacher Anton before his death, I also remember an earlier time when he said that since Shiran grew up, she was not so willing to listen to what he said. Hahaha, a rebellious girl, although she is gentle and weak, she actually has a very strong opinion in her heart. The teacher often said that since she is the only one who is willing to listen to reason when I talk to her, then he asked me to do more positive guidance."

“I certainly agreed, and I have been doing so all along. But could it be that I only realized later that Professor Anton had a ‘request’?”

"If time could go back to the past, would you have ultimately chosen Sheeran? I thought it would have been Roy," Joan, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up.

She feels that nowadays, many topics that are not so easy to talk about directly are no longer a big deal.

Moreover, she herself felt that asking this "unrelated" question was actually quite subtle.

"Going back to the past. Where do you mean? And what choice is the final standard?" Fan Ning's question startled her.

"In that rich and rare history, the answer may be clear, but I did not know. I pondered it with reverence and vowed to think more seriously until I made a decision, but fate gave me too little time. The days I spent writing 'Giants' and 'Resurrection' were too short, the days after my return from my wandering were too short, and even after I reached San Porto and the top of the Harvest Festival, it didn't give me even an hour, half an hour, or a few more words on the topic."

"And what about the time and space that are more subservient to 'noon'? What is the past? What is an encounter? What is a choice? How can we confirm and settle the uncertain fate and the predetermined fate?"

Fanning's eyes glazed over for a moment.

At the edge of the clear stream behind us, in the vast expanse of azure sky, patches of desolate and crumbling color begin to appear.

“Joan, all I can tell you is that I revere each and every one of you as I revere the highest morality and the purest ideal; I praise the eternal femininity as I praise the eternal starry sky; I cherish the memory of yesterday’s earthly world as I cherish the memory of each day I love my beloved. If I must submit to ‘noon,’ then it is not so bad to look back at every significant moment in time and space. But it is indeed recorded in the Book of Ecclesiastes that all is vanity, all is vanity, all the myriad layers of history are vanity.”

The sky Fanning was looking at seemed to have dimmed a bit, and the once clear and bright "Lymphinas Garden" seemed to have suddenly become somewhat desolate and dilapidated.

Joan stared blankly at Fanning, feeling as if it were a confession, a declaration, and even a prayer, but none of them were quite right.

These tones sound somewhat disheartened, yet they also carry a captivating frankness, enthusiasm, and introspection.

She sensed divinity.

“Now it seems, what good is all man’s labor, which is his labor under the sun?” Fan Ning’s fingertips gently brushed the withered foxtail grass in front of the grave as he murmured, “Joan, do you know, I have tried to seek and investigate all the things that are done in the world with wisdom, but I have seen that God has made the world undergo extremely heavy labor.”

"One generation passes away, and another generation comes, but the earth endures forever. The sun rises, and the sun sets, and hasten back to the place from which it rises. The wind blows to the south, and turns to the north; it turns constantly, and returns to its original course. All the rivers flow into the sea, yet the sea is not full. To the place from which the rivers flow, they return again."

"Everything is weary and full of weariness; no one can fully express it. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again. Is there anything that one can say, 'This is new'? Everything was already there in the age of noon."

“The generations that have passed are forgotten, and the generations to come will not be remembered by those who come after me. I once boasted of being a descendant of poets, a root of Janus, a morning star in the night sky of Theolain; but now I stand in the valley of the shadow of death, looking back at all the work of my hands and the toil of my labor, and find it all vanity and a chasing after the wind.”

Qiong, in her wheelchair, found tears streaming down her face. She suddenly regretted bringing up such painful things. She hugged Fan Ning's arm, but Fan Ning gently pulled away, lingered on her shoulder for a moment of comfort, and then squatted down in front of the tombstone.

The moment she crouched down, the scene shifted like a shuttle, with vibrant fox lilies blooming all around her feet, like a raging sea of ​​fire. Fanning picked up a bunch of flowers from the floral display.

"Perhaps love is also vanity, also chasing the wind. Love is a question, and the 'Poet of Fragrance' promised in His remaining years that He would never teach me, but now I am willing to answer with affirmation."

Love is patient, love is kind.

Love does not envy, does not boast, is not proud. It does not dishonor others, is not self-seeking, is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Leaves sway and flutter everywhere. In a daze, a little girl with snow-white hair seems to be standing to the side, holding a coconut and gazing blankly. The swing is also swaying, and the nightingale's song drifts into the distance.

“I had heard of you by the wind, and now I see you with my own eyes. The wind blows as it pleases, and I hear its sound, but I do not know where it comes from or where it is going. But soon I will go to seek you out,” Fan Ning said softly.

Joan couldn't resist reaching out to him, but her hand stopped in mid-air.

This is a divinity even more moving than the final movement of the Third Symphony.

The sea of ​​flowers quickly turned into an almost illusory white thorn, peeling off piece by piece, along with the cemetery and tombstones.

Only the "Unfading Fire" witness symbol remained in the visual field for a longer period of time.

In the surrounding scenery, indistinct overlapping shadows began to appear.

It resembles Qiming Church, but also those art venues.

"And you devout believers, if the world hates you, know that it hated me before you."

Fanning's tone was low, frank, and compassionate.

“If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own. But you do not belong to the world; I chose you from the world, and that is why the world hates you. This is vanity and a chasing after the wind.”

“If we must call those noble deeds of olden times the Holy Spirit, why not? Although it all began with an involvement, a collaboration, I have kept them for years. I have said, ‘I wish my circumstances were as they were in the past, as God has kept me.’ I must long for them.”

“I am being poured out as a libation now, and my time to leave this world is coming soon. I will eventually have to find my own ‘deficiency’. I will no longer preach or spread the gospel, but I will have no regrets.”

"For I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

“From now on, the crown of righteousness will be reserved for me.”

Fan Ning slowly stood up and turned around.

The garden and lawn have changed beyond recognition, with bloated and garish patches of color spilling in from every edge.

"Joan, let's go back to the cabin. I want to stay a little longer."

"Stay a little longer? What are you going to do?" She was suddenly jolted out of her reverie.

"Let's get ready to go." Fanning's figure disappeared at the top of the cabin steps.

(End of this chapter)