Almighty painter

Chapter 989 Anna's Game

If Williams performs successfully, he will be performing one of the most expensive pieces in the history of classical music.

What a dreamlike scene!

At his fingertips, where the supple bowstring met the taut string, tiny specks of powder fluttered down and scattered into the air. Those fine powders of rosin shimmered with a light more dazzling than the sun.

A fairy with magical powers is scattering gold in abundance.

Every minute, every second, every gentle tremor of the fingertips, every drag of the bow, every friction between the bow and the strings—countless gold coins fall with each note, crashing onto the floor, crashing into everyone's heart.

First variation, second variation, third variation.

One and a half.

Two minutes.

three minutes.

Time ticked by, the music gradually built to a climax, and then Williams' fingers trembled.

The first mistake of the performance occurred when the music was about two-thirds of the way through, when his left-hand fingers trembled.

This is the relatively slow-paced part of the entire Capriccio in A major, and the technical difficulty is relatively low.

Williams was completely focused on the next variation, a section that required rapid, continuous plucking of the strings with his left hand to create leaping arpeggios. He was recalling the feeling of practicing it before, his whole body tense than the violin strings.

Then, he played the wrong note.

While he was focusing all his attention elsewhere, Williams played a wrong note in the most inappropriate place.

It wasn't exactly a mistake.

When he pressed the string with his left ring finger, the pressure was uneven, the tone was slightly weak, and it deviated by about half a tone.

Williams' heart sank to the bottom.

“GOD.”

You absolutely cannot stop at a time like this. If you stop, it's all over. If you play a note that's off by half, someone might not even notice if they're not paying attention. And even if they do notice, it might not be a big problem.

Even in top-level violin competitions, judges generally allow one flaw during the performance of a piece.

But whether others could hear it or not, Williams knew best that he hadn't played that note well.

"Damn it, damn it, there shouldn't be any problems here."

A punctuation mark appeared in the flowing music.

The burr not only pierced the lively music, but also pierced Williams' heart, like a nail driven into the wing of a butterfly specimen, completely nailing Williams' mind to that note.

A note that was off by a half-tone played repeatedly in his ears.

Williams knew he was making a mistake.

If you pull the wrong thing, you pull the wrong thing.

Regret is useless. No matter how much you regret it, you can't go back in time, drag yourself out from half a minute ago, beat you up, slap you 20 times, and then start over.

The most important thing to do is to maintain a good mindset, stop thinking about anything, and keep going.

Performing in a large orchestra, you might encounter any problem. Even if you play a wrong semitone, or even if a string breaks while you're playing, you still have to keep playing.

A string can snap.

People can't collapse.

They pretend to play, then find a break in the performance to snatch the violin from the second violinist next to them, and the second violinist snatches the third violinist's.

This is the standard processing template.

Williams is no newcomer; he has encountered all sorts of situations and is very experienced.

Williams just couldn't let go; he couldn't let go of that note, he couldn't even clear his mind—

Concertmaster of the Vienna Philharmonic.

Stop thinking about it.

Please, please stop thinking about it.

"If only I could do it one more time..." Williams thought to himself.

"Thinking about this is useless," he shouted in his heart.

Two solo recitals.

"God, if I could do it again, I definitely wouldn't have made that mistake. I shouldn't have made that mistake..."

Williams was obsessed with him.

Williams was devastated.

Then... he made another mistake. He was thinking about the next section of plucking the strings, but he pressed the wrong note.

He was now thinking about the notes his fingers had pressed wrong in the past, and how he had plucked the wrong string again.

Yes.

This time, it's not just a matter of the tone being off or the notes being slightly off-key.

He pulled the wrong one.

He should have plucked the A string, but he plucked the E string instead.

This is no longer a flaw; there's no room for explanation. This is an error.

Williams' heart stopped beating.

“Did Miss Elena hear it? Is it possible she didn’t hear clearly… what if… what if…”

Williams felt as if a boulder was pressing against his chest. For a moment, he lost the ability to feel any emotion; he only felt cold and his mouth was dry.

He used to be so engrossed in the joy of music that whenever he called out to the notes, they would respond with the passion of a lover.

just now.

His mind went blank.

He stood in the sunlight, yet felt no warmth whatsoever from the daytime. The helium balloon in his chest rose higher and higher, rising into the clouds. He shivered from the cold, his fingers stiff, feeling dizzy, as if lost among the clouds.

Williams knew perfectly well that this was a pointless endeavor.

The violinist couldn't help himself.

He lifted his eyelids and glanced again in Miss Elena's direction.

That woman...she...was still playing with the cat.

She sat in her wheelchair, head tilted to the side, gazing absently out the window.

Williams couldn't see Anna's face.

She was like a boundless, endless sea of ​​white clouds surrounding me, making me lose myself in the mist.

Was she listening attentively, or was she not listening at all?
Is she mocking herself?

Did she feel that she was unworthy of the Elena family's sponsorship and that she was simply incapable of becoming an outstanding violinist?

Williams stared intently, as if he wanted to fly over and see for himself.

Miss Elena did not respond.

The fat cat lying on her lap turned its head and gently scratched its paw.

"Snapped."

The hydrogen balloon was popped.

Falling weightlessly from a great height.

Williams let his arms fall limply as if all his strength had been drained, and gasped for breath.

He pulled the wrong one again.

Moreover, there are too many mistakes; dragging it down any further would be pointless.

"Crack, snap, snap."

The new audience members were quite accommodating, as most of them were students from the same school, and several of them even recognized Williams. Despite a clearly unsuccessful performance, they still gave him a friendly round of applause.

Only those few students who were present just now and knew what this meant had extremely complicated thoughts.

Not everyone is happy to see someone they know suddenly win the lottery jackpot. Williams was jealous of Gu Weijing.

Among the classmates eating at the same table, perhaps some were also secretly envious of Williams.

Among those applauding, there might be some secretly gloating.

Among those who remained expressionless, there might have been genuine regrets, even heartfelt sighs, for Williams' missed opportunity. Williams himself, however, felt a hundred times stronger.

300 seconds is enough for one person to ascend to heaven, or enough for one person to fall into hell.

Williams placed the violin on the table to the side, clearly having lost nothing compared to before.

can.

He still felt like he was in hell.

The agent was also pale-faced; she wanted to say something.

“Again,” Anna said.

Williams' body jolted; he had been hit by the wizard's soul-controlling spell. He immediately tried to grasp at a straw and tightly gripped his harp.

Williams did it again.

then.

He failed again.

This time, he didn't play as smoothly as before. He forced himself to finish the piece, but the notes seemed to have disappeared, making it a complete mess.

The Violin Piano Concerto in A major is the pinnacle of all violin caprices.

When I was 15 years old.

This violin piece once brought glory and success to this artistic prodigy in front of the crowd. Now, it seems the Muse has abandoned him.

"I think the conclusion is obvious; there's no need to consult music critics. You shouldn't have any objections, right?"

"One more time, let me try again, this time I'll definitely succeed..."

Miss Elena turned her head and looked at Williams seriously for the first time.

She witnessed the undisguised pleading in Williams' eyes.

The woman shook her head and did not say "Again".

One was an agreed-upon opportunity.

the second time.

It was Anna who showed mercy.

“It seems you’re not suited for this,” Anna said. “I’m sorry, I have an appointment later. Mr. Williams, it seems you’re not Bach, and it seems that not everyone can become a great artist just by having the support of the Elena family.”

"Mr. Williams."

Before they left the restaurant, Anna looked at the piano Williams had left on the table and said softly.

"From now on, every time you pick up the violin, please remember this: everything you have dreamed of, everything you have wanted, all the honors, all the wealth, was once laid out on the table in front of you. It was your own inability to pick it up."

"You can't blame anyone else."

She turned and left, leaving only her agent and a blank-looking Williams.

For someone whose heart is tied to the golden balloon, when the hydrogen balloon falls from the sea of ​​clouds, their heart is shattered along with it.

Williams didn't lose anything?
No.

He lost his soul.
-
Gu Weijing silently flipped through the brochure for his solo art exhibition.

The brochure, meticulously produced by the Ma Shi Gallery, is elegant and exquisite in its fan shape, with each facet corresponding to an element from one of Gu Weijing's paintings.

Whether it's sunrise or sunset.

Or a constellation of stars.

When all parts are unfolded and combined, they resemble a large clock, forming a time wheel.

"you are not happy?"

The driver was driving ahead when the agent beside him asked a question.

"No, I don't think so," Gu Weijing said.

A brief silence fell over the spacious interior of the SUV.

Miss Elena glanced at Gu Weijing.

"you are not happy."

she repeated.

"The promotional materials are printed very well, and everything is progressing smoothly," Gu Weijing said. "Why would I be unhappy?"

"Stop being sarcastic," Anna frowned. "You're clearly unhappy."

"Well, maybe."

Gu Weijing shrugged: "But to be honest, you don't want to hear it."

Miss Elena gave a cold laugh: "I guess it's because of Williams."

Gu Weijing did not answer.

“I saw that video a few days ago. Someone uploaded a recording of Williams’ performance online, and many people said…it was a disastrous performance. Williams simply doesn’t have the ability to play that kind of music.”

The SUV's rear seats were spacious enough for Ms. Elena to cross her legs and arms, displaying a powerful and disdainful posture.

“Was he really that good?” Anna scoffed. “I’m not saying this, am I? Even someone who knows absolutely nothing about music appreciation knows it was a complete failure.”

"Our sentimental Mr. G is going to soften his heart again."

“His performance wasn’t good, but that’s understandable,” Gu Weijing said.

"Jesus."

Anna shook her head.

"Are you accusing me? I didn't force him to play. Did I do anything excessive? Believe me, if I offered the terms, ten thousand violinists would be willing to play for him."

“In watercolor class, Professor Kozens asked us a question: why would people tell the truth when lying could bring huge benefits?” Gu Weijing said. “He asked us if we knew how to answer.”

“That’s Wittgenstein’s question,” Miss Elena answered casually. “When he was nine years old, Ludwig Wittgenstein thought that when lying is in one’s best interest, there seems to be no reason to tell the truth. But that has nothing to do with the issue we’re discussing today.”

"you know--"

"Does Ole like to mention Wittgenstein to everyone he meets? Although I've always felt that the Kluge family is closer to that German Wittgenstein."

Anna sneered: "But our family is indeed related to the Wittgenstein family. One of my great-grandfather's cousins ​​married into the family; they even sponsored Klimt together. There are also some other miscellaneous marriages."

"If you were to seriously search through the family tree, in a sense, you might be talking to a 'Wittgenstein'."

Miss Elena once complained to Osborne that being related to Wittgenstein and being related to paramecia were essentially no different.

But... when arguing, it's more important to gain the upper hand.

She glanced sideways at Gu Weijing.

how?

"How dare you try to defeat me with my magic, Potter?"

"So?" Gu Weijing asked.

"So what?"

"So—is this Miss Wittgenstein also going to tell me that lying is right?" Gu Weijing asked.

“I didn’t lie,” Anna said angrily. “If he wants to do it well, then those things are his.”

“This is not the same thing as what happened at the Singapore Opera. A deal is a deal. If Williams plays the Capriccio in A major, I will really get him a position at the Vienna Philharmonic and give him Gabriel’s violin.”

"A promise is a promise."

Miss Elena said.

"With so many people present, even if I wanted to back out, there was nothing I could do. It's his own fault for not being capable enough! Should I applaud his incompetence?"

(End of this chapter)