Almighty painter

Chapter 966 Harmonious Melodies
"For Miss Tang?"

Old Yang stopped where he was and tucked in his stomach.

"Just sending this calligraphy copybook," the middle-aged man asked tentatively. "Don't you need to say anything else?"

Old Cao did not speak.

The old man's withered fingers gripped the corner of the thread-bound book, turning the pages one by one from beginning to end.

Is it necessary?
The meaning is already in the words; it's clear enough that no further explanation is needed.

If I can't see it, what's the point of saying more?
Yang Dekang's gaze wasn't fixed on the calligraphy copybook, but rather on the old man's face, from which he roughly deciphered the words "no need."

"Many years ago, when Xiao Ning was still very young, I also wrote the character 'Quiet' for her."

The old gentleman stood up from the podium, waved his hand, refused Old Yang's help, and silently walked out of the room alone, leaning on his cane.

……

After sending Old Cao back.

Old Yang was preparing to mail out calligraphy practice books. He held the small booklet in his arms, his clever little brain working rapidly.

Here comes the thought-provoking question.

It is known that Tang Ning was Cao Xuan's favorite disciple when he was a child.

It is known that many years ago, Cao Xuan wrote the character "静" (jing, meaning quiet/still) to Tang Ning, and then the matter was never discussed further.

It is also known that a month later, Cao Xuan wrote the same word "quiet" to Gu Weijing, and then, a month later, he handed in a stack of assignments to Old Master Cao. Now, Old Master Cao has bound this stack of assignments into a booklet, and then said "good" three times in a row, and specifically instructed me to send this booklet to Tang Ning.

In conclusion, my clever student, you can deduce that—

"Snapped."

After much deliberation, the clever Old Yang patted his belly and came to his final conclusion: "Of course, I should forgive him."

Yang Dekang pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Brother Gu, I heard your car got a cylinder blockage and was sent to the repair shop. Oh dear, why didn't you tell Brother Yang before? Taxis are so expensive in Germany. Brother Yang, you can borrow this 718 for now. No trouble at all. I have a car to pick up and drop off Old Cao. It just needs to be broken in. It's been sitting there all summer without being used. Consider it a chance to get some running and clean the carbon buildup... What? You went to pick up the car today? It's in the repair shop now. Sigh... Okay, okay. German cars are prone to burning oil. Hmm, Brother Yang, you still have two extra cans left from the last service. Take them. Volkswagen and Porsche are family."

"If you keep being so polite, I'll get angry. Don't worry about it, your brother Yang is just too generous. I'll deliver it to you."

Old Yang scratched his chin.

"They're all fully synthetic, and they'll expire if we don't use them soon... Okay, that's settled then. No problem, no problem. If you really want to thank me, I'll collect your coursework from now on, okay?"

Yang Dekang let out a breath.

He put his phone back into his pocket.

What's with this so-called NTR?

It's just a few hardships on the road to financial freedom.

Brother Yang would never be afraid.

True warriors of pure love are not afraid of the bullshit of NTR.

What is first love? — First love is first love. It's like first love has tormented me a thousand times, yet I still treat it as if it were the first time I met it.

To be clear, this is not because he lacks integrity.

Rather, it means that a prime minister's belly can hold a boat. His belly must be able to hold a large yacht and a sports car, and of course, it must also be able to hold a boat.

It wasn't that he was trying to curry favor with Gu Weijing, but the engine oil was about to expire. Besides, even if he didn't care about Gu Weijing, he still had to give Gu Weijing some face.

Even if you don't give Brother Gu face, you should at least give Brother Gu some face!

Yang Dekang stood up, picked up the calligraphy copybook next to him, and prepared to go out. After thinking for a moment, he walked to the door and came back. He ran to the storage cabinet, tucked the copybook under his arm, and carried a can of engine oil in one hand.

He then turned and left.
-
The engine, which had just been refurbished, whirred and made a slight oily sound as it stopped in front of the ranch.

Gu Weijing opened the car door and picked up his violin case from the floor in the back seat.

He stepped into the main hall of the room.

Miss Elena sat at the piano, her laptop on the piano lid, connected to a camera via a data cable, and appeared to be working on her photography assignment.

"How about it?"

Anna asked.

"A good haul," Gu Weijing said. "I have two coins in my hand. Can you guess what denomination they are?"

"10 euro cents?"

"50 euro cents?"

The woman asked casually.

"You're half right." Gu Weijing took out the change he had received as a tip from his bag and put it into the piggy bank in the wooden box on the shop window, making two clinking sounds.

"There's also a one-euro coin, which is the largest denomination coin."

"Oh, at least we can get some bread," Anna commented.

“From a conservative point of view, that’s true. No, you can’t play with this—” Gu Weijing squatted down, patted August’s head as it approached, signaling it not to touch his precious piggy bank, “From an optimistic point of view…”

"A Michelin-starred dinner is within reach, victory is in sight."

"Oh, then I might be disappointed if they don't have it."

Anna said.

Gu Weijing unfolded the violin case on one side, took out his viola, and rested the violin on his shoulder.

"Hold on."

Miss Elena extended her hand.

"Wait for me for about five minutes." Anna imported the last bit of data from the camera into the computer, closed the laptop and put it aside, then opened the piano lid.

The woman took the metronome from the piano, pulled out the lever, adjusted the scale to 120 bpm, and gently plucked it.

The metronome lever bounced back and forth like an inverted pendulum.

"Tap, tap, tap, tap..."

Anna waved her hand to the rhythm of the music.

Is this speed acceptable?

Gu Weijing was silent for a moment, then said—

"Personally, I think it might be a bit too optimistic. Sometimes, it's better to be a little more conservative."

Anna smiled.

"Ok."

"Anyway, I've started to become pessimistic about Michelin-starred restaurants," she said.

That being said.

Anna pulled the measuring scale on the lever up again, placing it at the "60" position, and wound it up at the bottom.

“We’ll start with 60, which is exactly one beat per second. Once you’re comfortable with it, you can try going up to 80.”

Gu Weijing nodded.

Anna plays the piano.

Gabriel is a violinist, his sister Carrie is a cellist who plays "heavy instruments," and Gu Weijing plays the viola.

A piano with the widest range and three stringed violins of different sizes, covering high, middle and low frequencies, make up the classic configuration of a family orchestra.

Gu Weijing would have a music lesson with Gabriel every Saturday morning.

There's a rather cynical joke in the violin industry: those who don't practice properly in an orchestra end up playing the viola.

This describes how, since the Renaissance, the violin has held a significantly higher position than the viola in the string section of all Western orchestras. Therefore, competition among violinists is much fiercer, and their income is also higher.

There are many, many well-known violin masters in music history.

Famous viola virtuosos are relatively unknown, and there are very few pieces written specifically for the viola. This is because the violin and viola have three overlapping octaves in their ranges. Many viola players were even "forced" to switch to the violin halfway through their careers.

However, in the field of teaching, it is usually the other way around. Viola players can teach violin, but violin teachers usually don't teach viola.

of course.

To reiterate, given Gu Weijing's playing level and having a teacher like Gabriel, there's nothing he could criticize.

Anna and others carefully flipped through the sheet music.

She waited for two seconds.

"One, two, begin."

The sound of Gu's classic violin piece "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" wafted from the ranch.

Behind the pasture, a cow standing in its pen suddenly stirred, almost as if by some unseen force, its gentle eyelids twitching.

Huh?
What should I do if I suddenly feel like hitting someone?

"Could it be... that I was originally a... fighting bull?"

Moo!
Without mentioning Gu Weijing's piano music, the innocent cows in the distance were unconsciously experiencing a strong sense of identity crisis.

The atmosphere in the main hall was still very peaceful.

Gu Weijing's violin playing, mixed with piano music, was like a sawmill and a concert hall combined, creating a unique and charming atmosphere.

It's mainly fun.

The two of them played "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" over and over again; more professionally speaking, it's the K.265 Sonata.

Mozart's K265 consists of a theme and 12 variations in different styles. The theme is the familiar tune, originating from a French country nursery rhyme.

Gu Weijing could sometimes keep up with the rhythm of Anna's playing.

Sometimes I can't keep up.

Sometimes I play the wrong notes, and the tune goes completely off track.

Undoubtedly, they were having a great time, immersed in the correct and off-key notes all around them. Miss Elena had played the piano in this room countless times before.

Those times.

Even when she played at her best, she didn't feel any satisfaction.

It bounced down smoothly.

At best, I'm not annoyed, but I'm not happy either.

Anna felt her emotions drifting far, far away from the music; the music was a surging river, a dialogue between the sea and the wind.

She drifted to the far end, sipping coffee by her seat, then glancing at the music room from afar.

It's like watching TV in a coffee shop; whether the screen shows a documentary about the Pacific Ocean or the scenery of the Amazon rainforest, it has nothing to do with Anna.

just now.

He didn't do a good job.

She played with great enjoyment.

A month ago, Miss Elena was restless when she closed the piano lid.

A month later, Anna opened the piano lid again and played these simple beginner-level pieces, her voice cheerful and lively.

She could use the piano notes, one note at a time, to "pick out" the mistakes in Gu Weijing's playing, as if using a knife and fork to pick out pebbles from water. The rhythm was so slow it was almost like a sloth's, but Miss Elena was completely immersed in the music.

The speed was 60, and Gu Weijing was pulling it with a lot of stumbling.

At a speed of 80, Gu Weijing made numerous mistakes.

at last.

Play until the very end.

The energy stored in the spring slowly stopped, and the swaying metronome came to a halt.

Anna saw that it was almost time, but her fingers didn't stop.

She sped up, sped up, and sped up again.

The stream became a waterfall, then a rapid, and finally a waterfall again. Twelve variations, twelve rapids, with scales, arpeggios, ornaments, rhythmic changes, and harmonic variations played at an extremely fast pace by Anna's alternating left and right hands.

K265 is a piece composed by Mozart with a certain virtuoso quality. It incorporates various variations in the variation section, similar to a canon etude.

There's a proper way to play it slowly.

There are different ways to play fast.

Some musicians who have studied piano for more than ten years still play Canon from time to time to practice their finger dexterity.

at last.

Miss Elena finished playing the last section.

He raised his finger and turned his head to stare at Gu Weijing.

Gu Weijing waited by with his violin, but he only held the violin with a show of poise. The moment the metronome stopped winding, he lost his rhythm.

He thought about it.

He raised the bow as if raising his hand, and then spoke.

"Miss Elena, you played so well."

He said.

"Was that very good? It seems you still have a lot to practice, little artist—"

"This playing is about the same level as when I was around twelve years old."

Miss Elena commented sharply.
-
Gu Weijing opened the door to the second-floor room.

After finishing his piano performance, he had just discussed exhibition-related matters with Anna. 200 days—it can feel like a long time, but it can also feel like a short time. They had decided not to change the exhibition dates, and many preliminary preparations for the exhibition needed to begin now.

Neither Gu Weijing nor Anna felt that they had wasted their time.

pleasure.

Fun is important.

They had been driven by a strong sense of purpose almost every minute of the past year, yet ultimately, they still lost their way in the exhibition. This proves that having a strong sense of accomplishment doesn't necessarily equate to acquiring a sufficient number of excellent works—it could be Menzel's painting skills, or Gu's violin playing.

Without a sufficient sense of accomplishment, without this level of immersion and engagement, one often cannot even produce the sound of Gu's violin.

Gu Weijing took out a color palette.

This palette is made of porcelain, which Gu Weijing fired himself. The "Impressionist Limited Task" required painting porcelain, so after Gu Weijing went to university, he immediately paid for a porcelain art training class and also bought an electric "porcelain" stove.

To possess a sharp weapon.

Murderous intent arose.

For playing the violin.

Birds and beasts fled.

Gu Weijing acquired a small stove for firing ceramics, so the ranch was filled with utensils of all sizes, all byproducts of his practice firing.

From his water cup to Awang's litter box.

Awang was initially unwilling to use it.

He has absolutely no sense of propriety; this hillbilly cat is completely clueless.

Picasso loved these kinds of things. Of his tens of thousands of works, a good half were various ceramics and silverware. Today, the average price is around tens of thousands of US dollars, with some costing hundreds of thousands of US dollars.

The vast majority of "Picasso" works circulating in the art market are not actually paintings.

When he, Gu Weijing, became a great painter.

This litter box could be traded for a whole warehouse of cat food cans, you know?

Gu Weijing, with a look of disdain, fixed the drawing paper to the easel and began to sketch the outline of the picture with a smile.

(End of this chapter)