The northeast corner of the forty overpasses in Yanjing East.

Poly Theatre.

The main concert hall of the Poly Theater welcomed a group of special people this afternoon.

They walked in through the back door of the concert hall in casual clothes, carrying or carrying various luggage.

But there were no performances in the theater this afternoon.

At this time, the entire concert hall was floating with the gorgeous chapter of "Piano Concerto in A Minor" that Grieg had created in his life.

On the stage, sitting in front of the piano, the girl performed affectionately.

There is no longer a black dress, her long hair swaying casually is floating with the music.

Below the stage.

The old man sitting in the middle of the audience was carefully watching the girl's every move on the stage.

After a while, a man in a black coat sat down beside the old man.

"Dean Zhou, the band has arrived."

"Thank you all, everyone," the old man said slowly, "Have you arranged the accommodation?"

"Don't worry, you've arranged everything."

"Okay," the old man nodded, "Then let's clean up and prepare to start. Boren has already contacted the theater, and someone will send the large percussion instruments to the next time."

As he was speaking, the large wooden sliding door on one side of the stage was opened.

The three people were carrying a set of timpani drums and slowly appeared.

.....

.....

On another wide stage.

The chief Basson player of the Lessib Symphony Orchestra was playing heavy and clear sounds after heavy.

At this time, the full combination of viola and cello sounds is used as the foundation of the symphony. The sounds of the three instrumental music are intertwined and sound particularly harmonious.

Sudden.

The crisp and fast sound stream of the piano appeared, with a sense of hostility.

At this moment, the volume of the bassoon was obviously suppressed, and the performer's expression instantly became like the music itself, which was extremely ugly.

The music in this state lasted about ten seconds.

“Stop!!”

“Stop!!”

With the irritating voice coming from the podium.

Everyone stopped and looked at the command stand

On the podium, a middle-aged commander with brown hair frowned and looked at the boy in front of the piano aside, sighing softly.

He turned around and said a few words to the woman beside him.

then.

The woman nodded her head while listening, but her expression gradually became a little embarrassed.

"What did he say?"

The boy in front of the piano obviously discovered this, "You talk, it doesn't matter."

"...Uh, he asked if you didn't wake up, and then, um, ask if you're sick?"

The podium started chattering again.

"He said, if it's really impossible to continue, then change the track."

The boy's hands posing on the keys suddenly burst out with blue veins.

He turned to look at the middle-aged man below.

After a long time.

His hand collapsed and he sighed softly.

He smiled at the female translator who was still full of embarrassment, "No need, keep going."

"I'm sorry for the mistake just now." As he said that, he lowered his head to the commander.

Five minutes later.

A quiet clarinet sound slowly appeared.

Under the extremely fast bow of the violin in a stormy rainstorm.

The boy's expression tightened slightly, and as Xingyun Zhiyu's music went to one point, he suddenly raised his hand and fell down.

There is no perfect fusion in a second.

At this moment, on the podium, Nelson's eyes once again showed the excitement of the beast discovering delicious prey.

His arms became stronger.

The glory of the Third Piano Concerto, which belongs to Prokofiev, shines on every corner of the stage.

But the middle-aged man in the audience has not yet recovered from the glance he saw from the boy.

It's hard to calm down in my heart for a long time.

......

......

The lens cuts back to the National Grand Theater.'

In the opera hall, the first part of the trombone and the second part of the trombone were alternately ringing, as if it were the last baptism of ancient warriors wearing armor and holding spears before going to war.

The volume of the fast rolling timpan drum gradually became stronger, like a black cloud thunder hiding over the ancient battlefield.

A sharp piccolo appeared in the air.

"Swish—————!!"

.....

"Is this the 24th variation of the band segment...?"

Qin Jian swallowed his saliva, even though his mouth was already very dry.

With a "gul" coming from his throat, he subconsciously glanced at Xia Dong beside him.

The eyes cannot be calm.

Twenty-three minutes passed.

Start from the first variation of the work to the last variation.

Without the lead piano, the entire orchestra actually interpreted this work like a complete symphony work.

Moreover, Qin Jian is not a pure appreciation, he has a complete set of music scores in his mind.

He pays close attention to some of the voice segments that need special attention.

Nothing is ignored by the orchestra.

Rigorous and meticulous.

What is even more incredible is that-

After waving his hand gently at the violin chief twenty-three minutes ago, Xia Dong returned to his seat and crossed his legs to transform into an audience.

No command throughout the whole process.

But the music seems to perfectly present every detail of the composer's musical wisdom under a pair of big hands.

The work is certainly great.

I once again admired Rachmaninov's genius creation. At the same time, Qin Jian's admiration for the men around him had reached an unparalleled level.

In fact, as one of the many orchestras in China, Qin Jian did not know that the reputation of the Yanjing Philharmonic Orchestra was not as good as that of some local orchestras before Xia Dong took over as the conductor.

Even in Yanjing, the most central part of the spread of Chinese culture, its location is very subtle

In a small classical music circle in Yanjing, there are three national symphony orchestras...

.....

“Pig!!”

"Buzz!!"

"Dong!!"

"Clang!!"
To be continued...