musicians of old

Chapter 872 Nighttime Ramblings (Part 1): Childhood
“The word ‘night’ as the source domain has the following characteristics.”

"After night falls, people lose their energy, and with it comes the fear of sleep and death."

The stagnant pool of history, cold and slippery, seeped into Fanning's face.

He is still moving forward.

The interplay of horns, with their responses and pauses, creates a spacious and serene echo effect in the opening introduction, before the mysterious woodwind melody, reminiscent of birdsong, gradually brings the entire scene to life.

Although the putrid pool was pitch black and filled with the silent, ethereal whispers of the "worms," ​​Fanning still managed to see that behind the dark green reflection of the moon lay an endless land, the dwelling place of history and the homeland of humankind—atop the crimson peaks of the morning sun, in the sacred embrace of the sea, the sun dwelled, igniting the vibrant light of everything. Only the earliest offspring of the earth were pressed down beneath the mountains, harboring a destructive rage against the newly born, indescribable worms, yet utterly helpless.

Fanning gazed at this ancient scene, the water splashing as his shoes and trousers moved.

As the prologue to "Night Walk" ended, the "Warning Chord" from the "Tragedy" Symphony unexpectedly played again.

Unlike the somber feeling of the original song where the transition from major triad to minor triad was abrupt, this process involves breaking down the chords. The blurred and swaying sound flow greatly reduces the "dosage" of the toxicity, making it more of a reflection and exploration of sound.

Finally, at some point, the water receded.

The moss-covered pillar of memories emerges from the mud beneath.

In measure 31, the march-like theme appears for the first time, but its temperament and tempo are far too slow for a proper "march," especially the rhythm of the cello and double bass, which can only be described as a solitary "stroll."

Fanning's steps came to a halt before a vast expanse of ruins, overrun by bizarre vines and crystalline structures.

He looked up along some remaining, distinctively styled, dilapidated arches and statue pedestals, and could vaguely make out the writing above them.
He looked down at his black phone for an even longer time.

"here it is"

A fleeting thought of perspective and a tactile perception of cognition split and coexisted at this moment.

Fan Ning is still the same Fan Ning, holding a guitar and dressed in rags, coldly observing these sharp and distorted scenes in the shadows. At the same time, he is also a participant in the scene, moving between buildings and tree-lined paths. The cold touch of the black metal block in his hand is delicate and real, and you can clearly see the pop-up window of the Instagram girl's profile picture on the phone screen.

"The Vienna Conservatory of Music is still on the 'recommended route' list. I used to skip classes to listen to rehearsals, which was more interesting than my arts management courses. Mr. Hoffmann, the security guard, had a white cat that loved to curl up in room 107. That practice room had the best lighting, and I would feed it treats. If it were still there, it would be about ten years old now."

The oak floorboards vibrated slightly with the sound of the piano playing, and someone next door was practicing their singing.

Schubert's "Winterreise," No. 5, "The Linden Tree."

Fan Ning walked quietly down the corridor. The light was getting dimmer and older, and the furnishings and smells were somewhat melancholic. He had become thinner, his face and shoulders were more youthful, and his hair had grown a little longer, but his eyes still held that familiar light and warmth.

With a creak, the door to the music room was pushed open, and twilight streamed through the window, turning the musical staff a honey color. Wine was poured onto the leather chair, and flocks of white doves flew past outside the window. The shadows on the sheet music shifted, as if the students practicing in the music room back then were tracing notes with their fingertips.

As Fanning leaned down, she caught a whiff of aged pine and mint. Inside the rusty tin box with German lettering were Cat Bar wrappers and melted, solidified candies that had stuck to the velvet lining.

He smiled as he played the piano keys. Schubert's third movement, D.960, featured a scherzo with a lively and carefree melody, but it was so light that it felt unreal. Some of the darker key changes left a lingering sense of loss, as if something had been lost.

Moreover, the piano sounds from the other rooms gradually became eerie, with rich bass reverberation, mysterious flow of superimposed fourths, a fragrant and dangerous atmosphere, and flashing, striking sounds.

Someone was actually practicing Scriabin's "White Mass".

"Student, your registration time has exceeded the limit."

The girl in the purple dress knocked twice and then pushed open the door, holding a black music book in her hands. Her voice was polite yet cool, and she spoke in the most familiar Chinese.

"Excuse me."

Fan Ning stood up, glanced at the sticker in regular script on the upper right corner of the piano that read "Please take your personal belongings with you," slung her backpack over her shoulder, and brushed past the girl in the purple dress.

By the way, the piano isn't an upright Steinway; the marking on middle C indicates it's a generic brand.

The surrounding displays have changed from Western style to Chinese style.

Comprehensive universities have no shortage of research funding, but at that time, the hardware conditions for art education were very limited. Each student could only book a practice room for a maximum of 2 hours a day with their student ID number. But the experience that was quickly learned was that after registering, you could ignore everything else and usually practice until the next person came to urge you.

A floor-to-ceiling mirror at the end of the corridor in the university activity center reflected the figure of a boy in camouflage uniform carrying a water bottle.

"Welcome to the Class of 11!" "Fun Club Recruitment Season!" "China Mobile and China Unicom Authorized Service Points"
Banners and colorful tents are everywhere on campus. The buildings are a mix of old and new, with several twisted ruins and construction sites with warning signs hanging around. The shadows of fractures linger, and lichens are constantly wriggling, some even spreading to the ground. The malice is persistent.

Fan Ning walked step by step along the main road, his slightly tanned face returning to its original whiteness. His camouflage uniform turned into a T-shirt, which in turn became a thin jacket and a thicker windbreaker.

"Master Fan, let's have a five-person dinner together. Tiger is going to turn on the camera."

"So, should we go for Karl or SF first? Guys, help us pick them?"

At the queue window on the first floor of the cafeteria, a few roommates and their best buddies were talking about their DOTA ranking plans. It was the same familiar lines and the same familiar style. One of them, a bespectacled man, had messy hair and a thin build. He was carrying several plastic bags filled with boxed lunches and pastries in his hands.

"We have a rehearsal today," Fan Ning waved his hand.

"Ugh, the master stood me up again, I'm so disappointed." The burly Northeastern guy instantly looked dejected.

"Rehearsing with a female student... you know what I mean."

"Ahem, junior girls, junior girls."

"Art is wonderful, and I want to dedicate myself to it."

Some people are smirking, some are making corrections, and some are giving serious evaluations.

These guys are genuinely close, they really do tease each other, but their envy is genuine, their belief that "Master Fan is awesome" is genuine, and their misunderstandings and jokes, brimming with hormones, are also genuine.

"It'll be the weekend," Fanning shook his head and smiled. "SF will take you guys flying tomorrow."

"Sure, I can secure the late game with a single Anti-Mage."

"Get lost, Antimage who gets a Perseverance every twenty minutes."

Fan Ning chuckled and cursed, then strode away with the takeout container, leaving her roommate's fervent and angry roars far behind.

"I'm going to build Battle Fury!!"

The faded outline of the cafeteria was already far behind him as Fanning continued walking along the overgrown path.

These no longer exist.

It's not that it only recently stopped existing; it's been like this for a long time.

Fan Ning smiled slightly, a mixture of joy, melancholy, and relief.

No one can simultaneously possess youth and experience youth.

As dusk fell, a dark green crescent moon hung in the sky, casting a nostalgic, dangerous, and distorted glow over the campus. "Night Walk" then transitioned into a dance-style section, the melody lines resembling the subtle, undulating emotions of a young girl.

Gentle, beautiful, carefree, perplexing yet captivating, unwilling to delve into whether it is a dream or reality.

The scenes flowed like water, stretching and converging together.

Fan Ning walked quietly.

More familiar things and scenes came into view.

White stone bricks, grass dotted with flowers, a blooming fountain and floating fallen leaves, and in the distance, classical red walls nestled among oak and camphor trees.

This is clearly Saint Lennia University, Meyer Square.