Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The first page featured a sticker of a monster, with a line of artistic lettering written in pen in the blank space.
The second page contained sheet music, only the melody was present, and there were no lyrics yet. The sheet music spanned three pages, and Tan Ming and Qi Qiuluo, who didn’t understand music, could not decipher the series of notes.
On the fourth page, someone had written in fluorescent ink, "I want to capture the moonlight." The notebook was custom-made, consisting of five pages, and the paper had a texture that was not the usual rough kind.
Flipping to the last page, Zhao Xiang had signed his name in artistic lettering, followed by the words "Graduation Gift." There was also a note saying "Love you, Zhao Xiang."
Tan Ming and Qi Qiuluo exchanged glances and then turned their attention to Yan Qing. Zhao Xiang was indeed an interesting person. Qi Qiuluo stole a glance at Tan Ming, who appeared unfazed, as if all of this had nothing to do with him.
"Is there something wrong with this notebook?" Yan Qing furrowed his brow.
"No problem; it's just a gift from someone," Qi Qiuluo said meaningfully.
"What kind of gift?" Yan Qing leaned in to look.
Tan Ming ripped out a page from the notebook, crumpled it in his hand, and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Hmm?"
Tan Ming handed the notebook back to him. "It's nothing."
"Hahaha," Qi Qiuluo laughed.
Yan Qing grew increasingly curious and opened the notebook again.
Tan Ming said, "It's just a record of inspiration. It's filled with incomprehensible notes; perhaps those who create music invest more emotional value into it. Oh, and there are thirty-two corrections."
"Is there really that many?" Qi Qiuluo questioned.
"Are there not?" Tan Ming looked at him.
"There are at least a dozen black marks," Qi Qiuluo said. "How could I possibly keep track of how many corrections there are?"
As for the corrections, if someone is composing music, can’t they revise it?
Yan Qing gazed at the sheet music, becoming increasingly serious as he studied it. He felt joy and excitement, and in that moment, the clash of thoughts was unmistakable.
Tan Ming had never seen Yan Qing like this before; the light in his eyes seemed ready to overflow. Yan Qing appeared unsure of how to express his feelings at that moment, unable to convey his delight and shock.
His gaze quickly swept around the room before he took down the violin hanging on the wall. The instrument was carefully stored in its case, treated with great care by someone.
As Yan Qing unzipped the violin case, his hands trembled with excitement. He took out the violin as if completing a ritual, standing with his legs shoulder-width apart, naturally straightening his chest and drawing in his abdomen. With a mix of eagerness and nervousness, he began to play Zhao Xiang's piece.
His hands grew steadier, nimbly dancing across the fingerboard. The melodious and graceful notes resonated in the air, and his body swayed gently with the rhythm, completely immersed in his own musical world.
It was by the shores of Deer Call Lake.
It was a scene of spring flowers and moonlit nights.
It was a tale of lingering affection.
It was passionate and intense.
It was the clear lake waters, a long wait, day after day of patience, a stretch of lake blue—willful yet introspective—sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.
It was the fervor and surge brought to life by Zhao Xiang's heartfelt efforts.
As the piece concluded, Yan Qing felt a sense of completeness wash over him. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes and slid down his cheeks as he exclaimed, "Zhao Xiang is a genius!"
Qi Qiuluo, Ling Xingyuan, and Liu Xuanzhu were lost in the music. Tan Ming was entranced by Yan Qing's performance; they had never been this close to such a musical talent before—close enough to understand his joys and sorrows.
He truly is a genius, Qi Qiuluo admitted. As a performer himself, he knew that performance and music have always been intertwined. Even someone as critical as him could find no words to disparage Zhao Xiang's talent.
"You are also a genius," Tan Ming said.
He might not understand music well enough to empathize with Zhao Xiang's brilliance, but he recognized that just moments ago, when Yan Qing was focused on playing, he shone brightly.
"No, I am not; I am merely a performer. Zhao Xiang is the genius!" Yan Qing firmly rejected the notion.
His emotions were heightened, akin to a solemn defense.
Comment 0 Comment Count