Please, come home and practice the piano

Chapter 1404, Section 624: The Bell Ringing Under the Dome!
Bright sunlight streamed through the crack in the door, carrying a wave of silent heat, and fell upon Ang Lee's figure.

Ang Lee looked up at the warm light, and a moment later walked out of the backstage door.

"Wow!!!"

Instantly, thunderous applause erupted from the audience and surged fiercely toward the stage.

Unlike last year, Fang Yongbo did not accompany Ang Lee on stage this year.

As a tribute from the orchestra to the soloist's performance, the musicians who sat and applauded last year all stood up this year.

Swish!
As all the musicians on stage stood up, the first mini-climax of the evening seemed to have arrived.

"Whoa!!!!!!!!!!"

As he walked past rows of musicians, Ang Lee walked with a smile toward the center of the stage.

Under the spotlight, his steps were steady, combining the vigor of youth with the composure of middle age.

His black and white tailcoat added a touch of classical elegance to his already slender figure.

Ang Lee stopped next to the band's concertmaster, Lin Qingfeng, and shook hands with him. However, he did not shake hands with Fang Yongbo on the conductor's podium. Instead, he went directly to the piano and sat down.

The entire hall gradually quieted down.

All eyes of the audience were now focused on the black grand piano.

A short while later, the scene fell into an inexplicable silence, as if even a cough would be amplified a thousand times.

moment.

Ang Lee and Fang Yongbo exchanged a glance.

next second.

Raise your arm!

A powerful aura erupted from in front of the piano, enveloping the entire stage.

All was quiet.

It was as if anticipation was hanging in the air before a momentous occasion.

No one knows what Ang Lee was thinking at that moment.

"when!"

As his arm fell, a resounding boom, like the hum of a great bell, echoed from the center of the stage.

A heavy chord, as if struck by a flash of inspiration, rose up, and the lights in the entire hall seemed to be coated with a layer of gold.

It was truly moving for the audience.

Whether you've heard this piece or not—Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2.

First movement, Moderato, C minor, 2/2 time, sonata form.

The rolling tolling of bells drew back the curtain on the slumbering melody, like the first call in the darkness.

The eight bars of bells were filled with a somber tone, yet also carried a hint of profundity.

The deep bass notes alternate with chords, creating a rhythmic and even sound.

"when!"

Ang Lee used his unique rear-touch controls to imbue each chord with a penetrating power!

As the string section began, his power gradually spread from his fingertips to his entire upper body, forming a continuous wave, with each chord spanning a sufficient distance.

This is roughly the vastness of the boundless Slavic land.

Rachmaninoff's music, bearing the shadow of Tchaikovsky, inherits Romanticism while also harboring the sharp edge of Modernism.

Mr. Tang could confirm just by listening to this opening scene that Ang Lee understood the essence of the work and maintained its tragic tone from the very beginning, while also adding a touch of Eastern subtlety.

As the first theme played by the string section unfolds slowly on the piano arpeggios, the dialogue between the soloist and the concerto begins.

Ang Lee fearlessly unleashed the full expressive power of the piano, with a sense of strength overflowing from the strings.

There were a few moments when it seemed to drift off and take over the melody of the strings, then create a brief development effect, giving people a clever and mysterious sense of magic.

"when!"

When the melody shifted to E-flat major, there was a slight commotion in the audience.

The transition from C minor to E-flat major is like a ray of light shining through dark clouds. Under Ang Lee's ripple-like touch, the melody spreads across the piano keys like flowing water.

Time passed second by second in the vast ocean of music.

The cars below the stage had completely forgotten where they were.

At this moment, all that remained in her mind was the lingering afterglow of the magnificent scene, like a shooting star streaking across the sky.

The fleeting orchestral music unfolded naturally, like night spreading across the sky, drawing all the grandeur in her heart into a vast space turbulent with undercurrents.

Hearing Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto live for the first time was completely different from hearing it during rehearsals, and she was deeply moved.

From the very beginning, the music was like an inextinguishable spark, flowing back and forth between the powerful waves of the band and the crisp sharpness of the piano.

The long, mournful strains of the strings had barely subsided when the piano's arpeggios pierced the air like shattered jade.

As the deep, resonant horn of the brass pipes first rises, a silvery wave of sound surges from the black and white keys.

The two sounds waxed and waned, intertwining and weaving the tension of the music into an impenetrable net, imbuing the air with a tense rhythm.

The climax arrived suddenly in the midst of breathlessness.

The original theme, which was shrouded in melancholy, suddenly broke free from its constraints, was infused with fervent vitality, and transformed into a powerful and stirring march.

"when!"

The piano's octave forte sounds like war drums urging on an expedition.

Every keystroke carries a resolute determination that transcends time and space; as the sound waves surge, it's as if a thousand troops are galloping in, stirring the heart with excitement.

Before the stirring melody had faded, the orchestra quietly retreated, leaving only the piano standing alone in the center of the stage, reiterating the main theme.

The melody had lost its previous sharpness, gaining a touch of desolation like the mournful cry of a lone goose, and flowed slowly through the empty concert hall.

Suddenly, the sound of a clarinet rose faintly, but it was no longer as clear and expansive as before. The tone was filled with an inescapable gloom and melancholy, like the cold fog of late autumn spreading across the wilderness, gently entwining the heart full of sorrow.

The piano notes gradually slowed down, as if drawn by the melancholy, sinking step by step into a deep valley, until the sorrow completely melted away and returned to silence.

The silence was like a frozen lake, and then the theme of the Development Department slowly emerged, like a reef exposed after the tide recedes, carrying the roughness and tranquility of having weathered storms.

By this point in the first movement, Ang Lee, sitting at the piano, was already drenched in sweat.

Finally, he waved his arms again!

The piano music suddenly soared to a high note, like thunder breaking the dawn, and the orchestra responded with a thunderous roar, like a raging torrent.

The two intertwined and collided once again.

Ang Lee's hands flew across the piano keys, rapidly passing through phrases of notes as dense as raindrops.

The octave playing was even more stunning, with two notes being separated into independent parts, creating a coherent yet spacious sound.

Audience members near the stage could even feel their seats vibrating slightly.

Under the lens, the ten fingers on the keyboard burst forth at a specific angle, and with the pedal control, the sound of the piano becomes as magnificent as a pipe organ, with a stereo sound field enveloping the entire hall.

Finally, it all converged into an overwhelming force!
"Dang!!"

As the piano finished with a resounding chord, the lingering sound echoed long beneath the dome, as if marking a breathtaking conclusion to the first movement.

In an instant, the entire hall fell silent, and the scene on the stage seemed to freeze.

suddenly.

Under the spotlight, Ang Lee raised his hand and gently rubbed his forehead.

It was just a casual gesture of wiping away sweat, but it brought out a string sound that seemed to come from another world.

Below the hall, before the lingering echoes of the first movement had faded, the adagio of the second movement began to slowly rise.

Like the calm after a storm.

Slightly slower adagio.

E major.

The car seemed genuinely unaware at that moment.

She stared intently at the stage.

Unconsciously, his left hand under the seat had already gripped the hem of Wang Xiaohu's clothes.

(End of this chapter)