musicians of old

Chapter 958 New Year’s Eve

New Year's Eve in San Pelto, viewed from above, resembles a breath of light.

The warm lights lit in the windows of thousands of homes connect to form an undulating land of light. The addition of gas streetlights on the main street and colorful light strips in shop windows outlines the golden contours of the city's artery. As dusk completely sinks into the dark blue, the decorative strings of lights hanging on the squares, parks, and church spires also light up one by one, and the night sky is adorned with a sky full of jewels.

"Whoosh—" "Bang!!"

Even before the turn of the year, a firework shrieked as it shot up from a rooftop, exploding into a fleeting cluster of silver chrysanthemums high in the sky—like a signal. Immediately afterward, a second and a third dazzling, thunderous firework rose, bloomed, and fell from every corner of the city, filling every inch of the sky and earth with brief bursts of light and deafening roar.

The second-floor reception room of the villa on Walstan Street.

The fireplace was burning brightly, and a thin layer of condensation covered the glass door, blocking out some of the outside noise, but the atmosphere inside was still lively.

Many of the colleagues from the cinema chain's headquarters came; those not on the second floor were on other floors or on the lawn in the courtyard. Several people were busy in the kitchen, where the aroma of roast goose was already wafting out, mixed with the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon and orange peel from the simmering red wine. Walter also brought his family and children, whose chattering noises darted up and down the stairs, around the sofa, and inside and outside the cabinets.

When Fan Ning returned, he was also in the hall. He had changed out of his recently worn gray suit jacket and put on a soft beige sweater. He sat on an armchair by the fireplace opposite him, with a book of poetry open on his lap, and the firelight flickering on his face.

His attention seemed easily drawn to the movements of anyone, including the girls huddled together on a sofa talking, a colleague making a funny remark, or a child shouting at the top of his lungs. His gaze would fall on one person, then after a few seconds he might lower his head to read a few lines of poetry, or after ten seconds he would shift it to another person, as if he were listening, or as if he were daydreaming.

After sitting for a while, Walter said, "It's getting a bit noisy as I get older," and went back to his room. He told everyone to call him out again when they had dinner later. Judging from the noise in the inner room, he must have gone to listen to the radio.

In San Pelto, the New Year's Eve tradition, whether in the palace or in the city, usually involves a formal dinner after midnight, which is the New Year's meal. Around 11 p.m., Fanning and his companions changed back into their outdoor clothes and went out onto the street outside the villa to join the celebratory crowd.

The square was teeming with people, almost impossible to move. The air alternated between cold and hot, thick with the smells of gunpowder, alcohol, and the steaming heat of the crowd. Shirley, having just stepped outside, nearly bumped into a group of skipping children; Fanning pulled her back just in time. Joan, seemingly recovered from her trip to Raven Gardens, insisted on buying a large tub of handheld sparklers, constantly replenishing and replacing them for everyone. The slender metal rods hissed and sprayed dazzling silver sparks, tracing four brief arcs of light in the darkness. A relaxed smile gradually appeared on Roy's lips in the light.

A huge countdown projection, illuminated by lights and mechanical devices, is projected onto the ancient walls of the city hall.

When the number jumped to "ten", thousands of voices began to shout in unison, the sound waves seeming to tangible, pounding against chests: "Nine! Eight! Seven!" The girls finally joined in the loud counting, their faces glowing with a fleshy light and an excited blush.

"Three! Two! One!!! Happy New Year!!!"

The bells rang out with a thunderous roar, not just once, but a torrent of metal from all the church bell towers in the city, heavy, magnificent, and with a lingering echo, instantly drowning out all the cheers and fireworks.

On January 1, 917 (Gregorian calendar), countless top hats were thrown into the air, strangers embraced, high-fived, and clinked glasses, and more fireworks rose into the sky, turning the night into a dazzling and ever-changing tapestry.

Sheeran hugged Joan, and the two of them exclaimed "Wow!!" Roy also smiled even brighter, raising two small glasses of champagne to Fanning, who seemed to have received them from nowhere. Fanning looked at them, feeling the warm bodies around him, the bright eyes of the people, and the laughter without any gloom. He smiled along with them, taking one of the glasses Roy handed him. Fine bubbles rose along the cold glass, the taste was refreshing and slightly stimulating on the tip of his tongue, and there was the unique burning sensation of alcohol in his throat.

The four of them wandered around, circling 360 degrees in front of the city hall, before following another wave of people back. The streets were littered with confetti and empty bottles, but the atmosphere didn't ease. Fireworks were still going off, illuminating faces that were either still enjoying themselves or slightly tipsy.

Back at the villa, four steaming roast geese were already on the table, served with mashed potatoes, purple cabbage, and cranberry sauce. The cranberry sauce, in San Pelto, was practically a "miracle sauce." Fanning tore off a goose leg, dipped it in, and thought it tasted somewhat like ketchup with mustard. After everyone had devoured the four roast geese, the other dishes and drinks were served. The radio clearly broadcast a live recording of the San Pelto Philharmonic Orchestra's New Year's concert; the melody of "The Blue Danube" filled the room, which was filled with the aroma of food. Everyone sat together, knives and forks clinking, talking about the fun they'd had, debating which fireworks were the best, and planning to perhaps go to a real concert the next day.

Fan Ning didn't eat much at first, but listened very attentively. Occasionally, he would smile slightly at Joan's exaggerated descriptions. However, after the other colleagues quickly dispersed, he seemed to become more and more relaxed at the banquet. Everyone joked around for another hour before the villa gradually quieted down.

The screams came from Sheeran's room in the middle of the night.

A short, sharp hiss, like being choked, filled with pure, incomprehensible horror, instantly shattered the silence of the villa.

Almost in the next breath, Fanning's figure silently sat down at the foot of Sheeran's bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

It doesn't seem like the work of dangerous individuals.

During this period, the man's words and actions seemed very consistent; he spent almost every day in his attic, waiting for the so-called "countdown to joy."

The room was dark, with only the intermittent bursts of fireworks outside the window casting flickering light on the furnishings. Xilan was curled up on the bed, the blanket kicked to her feet, her hands gripping the fabric of her nightgown tightly, her knuckles turning white.

The door was pushed open abruptly, and two other people in bathrobes rushed in.

"Shelan!" Joan rushed to the bedside and grasped the girl's cold hand. "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Experiencing nightmares is not the "patent" of the ignorant. In a sense, if one has mastered dream control techniques but still encounters uncontrollable dreams, their content or meaning is usually even more terrifying.

"Tata is moving. It's not stone, it's soft. It's colorful. It's breathing."

She described it intermittently, with chaotic and abstract words, but in short, after entering the dream, she saw the entire Shining Tower become a giant, colorful eye stalk, and she was climbing inside the tower, not because of desire, but because she was being pulled by some kind of attraction, getting closer and closer to the slowly opening and closing boundary at the top.
Roy leaned against the wardrobe, his brow furrowed. Joan gently patted Sheeran's back, her eyes fixed on Fanning with a silent question.

Fanning held Sheeran's hand, seemingly sensing something, before letting go a few seconds later.

“It was just a nightmare.” His voice remained steady in the silence, his judgment powerful and convincing. “You’ve been at the first level of the Deep Understanding realm for a few days now, haven’t you? There are no signs of obsession or distortion.”

"Rapid spiritual growth can sometimes stir up deep-seated fears in the subconscious. You've all been too tired lately."

He attributed the cause to being "too tired," but recently everyone felt that he was the most inexplicably tired person.

"Alright, no need to sleep anymore." Roy took a deep breath and finally smiled. "Everyone, shall we go out and find somewhere to have a couple of drinks?"