musicians of old

Chapter 874 Night Walk (Part 1): First Wish
Dean Gould

As the two Fanning figures passed each other, one of them seemed to be muttering to himself.

Behind him, above him, and at the doorway, a group of people who looked like reporters swarmed forward, shouting at the blood-covered Fan Ning, bombarding him with a barrage of questions from all sides.

Fanning, holding a guitar, continued walking towards the lower part of the hall and the front of the stage.

The middle section of the dance music suddenly becomes almost savage. The rhythm of the clarinet and oboe is somewhat like the rural "Liandler" in the second movement of "Giant", but it is not. Fanning's fingers slide on the guitar fretboard, bringing out the ghostly glissando of the string section. Everything is distorted by the sudden key change.

The stage presents a blasphemous and twisted pit, with a gap in the sky above. A dark green crescent moon is faintly visible in the darkness. At the edge of the gap, large pieces of bricks, stones, and steel bars, along with dust, fall down.

"Carol, run! Run!"

"Keep playing your piano well and composing your music."

The old man, his body mutilated beyond recognition, struggled and repeatedly urged on from inside the deep pit.

Even though Fan Ning, covered in blood, had already walked out of the hall.

Dean Gould Fanning finally choked up.

He reached out with all his might, trying to catch a glimmer of amber starlight, but the scene spun around him, and the name he uttered somehow changed—

"Teacher Gu!!"

The hazy, diffused light from the fluorescent lamps converged and focused.

It was late at night outside the window.

A middle-aged conducting teacher, wearing an ordinary jacket, with slightly messy hair but focused eyes, was leaning against a desk piled high with scores, discussing something rapidly with Fan Ning, who looked like a college student.

There are also "No Smoking" signs posted on the wall above.

"Teacher Gu, I think I'd like to give it a try. I feel that the Kodály method is very suitable for the students' current situation."

"Hmm? Kodály from Hungary? What do you mean?"

"To be honest, after learning about it, I feel it's quite a departure from common sense." Fan Ning flipped through the pages of her printed materials, eagerly listing her discoveries with her still somewhat clumsy "reporting skills." "This teaching method might mainly be used to teach children abroad, but it's really suitable for us. In principle, well, it mainly focuses on 'stimulating musical instincts' and 'training inner hearing.' It believes that the human voice is the best instrument. You see, the earlier courses don't even teach sheet music or basic music theory, and you don't even need a piano, because it considers the worst-case scenario—just a tuning fork. Of course, we're not that poor."

"Yes, these singing and imitation exercises are indeed very easy to learn." Teacher Gu nodded. "Next, let me see, is there a set of 'twelve-tone hand gestures' here?"

“Kids can remember it after practicing for a few days, and adults will definitely learn it in no time.”

"Give it a try. Remember to find some training materials that they're familiar with, like pop songs or Japanese-style ones. What are you called again? Anime/manga? Yeah, those anime songs are fine too. You can also arrange some two-part rounds or backing vocal melodies. You're young, so you're more familiar with these styles. The key is to make sure the students are interested."

The exchange of information and the achievement of consensus are highly efficient.

There was no grand pronouncements or orders with a hierarchy of importance; there were only discussions, suggestions, and guidance that addressed the issues at hand, as well as meticulous calculations about the music itself and the "feasibility of stimulating interest."

It was this ordinary teacher, Mr. Gu, a music educator with a dedicated teaching attitude, one of the millions of ordinary "moths" in the world, who accepted the seemingly whimsical suggestion of the "Kodály Method" from a science and engineering college student and was willing to put in extra effort to try it.

Fan Ning, who had finished his discussion late at night, rushed down the stairs at lightning speed. Holding his guitar, Fan Ning stood at the window and quietly watched the boy in the dark gray windbreaker run out of the teaching building.

After midnight, the clock on the wall suddenly became disordered; the hour hands first trembled, and then even began to reverse.

The readings on the time scale also turned into a jumble of nonsensical characters.

"Keep playing your piano well and writing your music," the old pianist repeatedly instructed until he was on his deathbed.

Professor Gu's office seemed to "spread" out like diluted paint, and Fan Ning felt as if she were standing in a university activity room with pale lights and mottled walls, filled with dust and the plastic smell of cheap audio equipment.

"Come on, everyone, let's practice the chorus a couple more times."

"A school-level arts festival is on a completely different level! We need to bring some honor to our college!"

Then a terrible "chorus" began to play in my ears. The speakers played a cassette tape, and dozens of students mechanically followed along, singing in unison, with male voices taking turns, female voices taking turns, and finally a chorus. The only difference between the vocal parts was that they were an octave apart.

Dry, rough, and utterly devoid of any aesthetic appeal.

"This is supposed to be a choir? It's more like a 'unison singing group'!"

Fan Ningren, who was in the team in his previous life, was stunned. His voice, filled with shock and resentment, echoed clearly in his past consciousness.

Even Fan Ning, who was observing from the sidelines, still instinctively felt anxious and stung. This had nothing to do with any sense of "superiority" or looking down on anyone. It was purely a sigh of regret after seeing the essence of "beauty" and the nature of "aesthetics" being obscured.

"Young men and women, let's play a fun game first."

Fan Ning's gaze was somewhat unfocused. He suddenly realized that someone was looking at him, another version of himself who had spoken.

The Western-style classroom was newly built and very high-end, but the clothes worn by the young men and women sitting in the seats were cheap and faded, forming a stark contrast with the two student representatives from the Saint Lennia Conservatory of Music sitting in front of the piano.

“Come on, you can sing along with me.” Fan Ning, dressed in a sharp suit, waved to the people in the seats to his left.

"do." "do——————"

"Very good." Fanning clapped his hands. "Again."

"mi." "mi——————" "sol." "sol——————"

"Alright! Young men and women, remember your pitches: ten, nine, eight."

“do/mi/sol——————” The bright and warm C major triad was slowly sung out by the boys and girls.

The voice should be ethereal and clear.

It should have been like a pure ray of light piercing through the barrier and descending upon the world.

But Fanning, who was holding a guitar, couldn't hear it clearly at all.

He quickly walked down the aisle between the seats.

"Everyone knows what sheet music is, right?"

"It's just 1234567."

"Yes, yes, could you try singing a bit of this?" Fan Ning handed a simple sheet of sheet music for a trial singing test to someone on the table.

"Uh, no way." The young female classmate shook her head.

"And you?" Fan Ning asked, switching to another boy with flowing hair.

"I'll give it a try, but I'm not familiar with this song," the boy said, shaking his head again.

"Aren't you a karaoke enthusiast?" Fan Ning asked in surprise.

"Ah, he's a legend, our college's new singing champion!" someone nearby fanned the flames.

"Uh, I haven't heard of it before, I'm not familiar with it, and I can't sing it directly," the boy with flowing hair said somewhat awkwardly.

As a fellow freshman, he knew that the person in front of him was a true "piano prodigy," a reputation that had already spread during military training. Teacher Gu trusted him implicitly, and if he said "If you're so good, then you do it," he would definitely be proven wrong in an instant.

"Isn't there sheet music?"

"Uh, well, we're not really that familiar with each other."

"Let me think of something else." Fan Ning covered her face helplessly.

That sense of powerlessness in the face of a vast, rigid system, that regret of knowing what beauty is but being unable to spread it to a wider land, falls like cold raindrops onto the warm starlight that is about to gather.