musicians of old

Chapter 946 Counting Snails

Music director Walter received a very strange assignment.

He felt he had always been highly valued, and he was very honored and proud of it. For example, at the beginning of this year, when Fanning returned to Teolain—at that time, Fanning had just ended his life on the run, his shocking secrets had not yet been revealed, and he was just his boss—he was the first person to be interviewed.

Although this wasn't a formal conversation with me directly, the first task assigned to me was still to be my responsibility.

But the job itself was indeed a bit too strange.

It's the second day since Fanning returned. It's still dark, and Walstan Street is still asleep. The streetlights cast dim yellow halos in the fog, and tattered confetti, flattened hats, empty bottles, and other trash are "neatly" scattered along the street's drains—the citizens' nightlife at the end of the year is rich and "orderly."

Walter stood by the cast-iron fence in a corner of the garden, wearing a thick woolen overcoat with the collar turned up, holding a notebook and a pencil, watching his two subordinates working busily in the flower bushes in front of him.

His men had been lying in the flowerbed for twenty minutes, and Walter had been standing behind them for twenty minutes as well.

“编号：3-005。位置：前院西南角，离地10-40厘米。数量：3。是否感染：否。附着植物：冬青。爬行方向：基本静止。备注：叶片有少量蚜虫。”

His men were reporting, and Walter was writing.

He received the task an hour ago, when it was still completely dark, when there was a gentle knock on his door. Miss Roy was standing outside.

“Good morning, Director,” Roy said. “I’m sorry to bother you so early, but there’s something that needs to be arranged immediately. Mr. Fanning wants all the theater chains to send over some data within three days, uh, including our own.”

“Data? No problem, let me see.” Walter wasn’t that confused at first. He thought there might be some urgent statistical task. Recently, the theater chain has been too busy with annual audits, music examinations, theater operation assessments, and faculty contribution evaluations, not to mention performances. He took the paper from the other person.

Miss Roy's handwriting was as graceful and elegant as ever; she must have taken notes while listening to Fanning's lectures, but the content was truly...
"Each theater chain must submit the following data for the past three days by December 24th: 1. The number and approximate density of snails in the green areas and private courtyards of all schools, concert halls, theaters, and other facilities within their jurisdiction or cooperation scope; 2. The proportion of snails infected with parasites, primarily judged by abnormally swollen antennae, bright colors, and hyperactive behavior; 3. The plant species where snails most frequently gather, specifying the genus, such as ivy, rose, clematis, etc.; 4. Whether the snails exhibit directional preferences in their crawling patterns, such as phototaxis, hygrotaxis, or moving to higher ground at specific times. Note: The data must be accurate. Teachers, students, and gardeners can assist in maintaining a natural state; do not capture, lure, or disturb them."

Walter then wondered if he had gotten up too quickly after hearing the knock on the door. Of course, he still accepted the task and executed it as efficiently as ever, so he was now standing here.

"Number 4-013. Location: Southern fan-shaped green area, approximately 305 cm above the ground. Infection status: Yes. Attached plant: Linden. Climbing direction: Clearly upwards, target suspected to be a high tree branch."

The subordinate's head was already embedded in the branches, relaying information intermittently, while another person below was swiping notes.

"Hey, be careful." Walter rushed over to steady the ladder, instructing his subordinates, "You guys take notes on these after you come down, keep an eye on things, I'll go check the other sides."

I think the boss must have his reasons, but it can't possibly be related to music exams. Could it be that he discovered something fishy in the audit report? What kind of integrity risks exist in the "greening and landscaping maintenance" expenses? That doesn't seem likely either. Okay, maybe he's about to venture into the fields of biology or botany.

Walter was completely baffled as he walked, feeling as if his usually sharp mind was about to burst.

Then, at a certain moment, he subconsciously looked up and was stunned.

One tall, one short, staring at each other with wide eyes.

Isn't this exactly the master Fanning that I've been thinking about?
The sky was still dark, with only a faint glimmer of dawn. His boss had actually gotten up early and come up to the roof for some fresh air. He stood by the eastern railing, raising his hand with fingers spread, as if waving to him. "Good morning," Walter said with a smile.

Just then, the skyline lit up.

But it didn't seem to be the soft, gradual brightness of a typical sunrise. Instead, it was a clear, sharp light, as if a switch had been flipped, with darkness neatly sliced ​​open like a curtain, and the edges of the light sharply defined.

The sky changed from deep blue to indigo, then to light purple, and finally to a golden-red hue, all in less than three seconds.

At dawn, when the world is pristine, one wants to hold their breath and savor the moment.

But Walter felt that something was different from usual, or rather, the sunrises during this period seemed different, only this time it was such a coincidence that he happened to be there when he greeted Fanning.

Of course, he couldn't quite figure it out. Walter felt that it might be because he had been thinking too much about "counting snails," which made everything seem strange. He waved the paper and pen in his hand and pointed ahead, indicating that he was going to continue to complete the task of "making a sample."

On the rooftop, Fanning nodded in response.

“Master Fan Ning, you have persisted for a month.”

From behind, Mr. F's voice drifted over.

"And then what? Can it continue for another month, or two? This work is quite strenuous. Maybe we should try to find more areas with rainy days?"

The man, leaning on a cane with his top hat tucked under his arm, stood conspicuously in an open space a little further inside. His face appeared exceptionally pale in the morning light, and the shadows under his eyes were as deep as bruises.

"Is this a big deal?" Fan Ning asked casually.

The instant he withdrew his hand, a subtle shift in light and shadow, resembling a "channel," appeared on the infinitely extending straight line connecting his hand and the sun overhead.

On his calm face, however, there seemed to be some more weary details that were sinking deeper and disappearing from the surface.

“Theoretically speaking, there is absolutely no need to worry about this,” Mr. F said.

"A motor with a margin that keeps decreasing at a noticeable rate is indeed a slightly tricky problem, but the key reassuring thing is that the cable is right there and the power supply is right next to it. Just make the decision to plug it in and you can rest easy afterwards."

Mr. F chuckled and lit a slender pink cigarette.

"The 'Unfading Flame' is gone, and the 'Endless Fugue' is no longer in the dwelling. Friends of the Holy Sun Church should know this and won't mind too much. As long as Saint Lavoisier is still there, the sun of the new world still needs to rise every day, otherwise these lowly humans wouldn't understand. This kind of work that only the Witness Lord can do indefinitely is not easy. If it were any other sixth-level Order, they would probably be exhausted after just one day."

"So, esteemed Master Fanning, when exactly do you plan to officially cross the 'Gate of the Dome'?"