What a jian.

Qin Jian looked at the little old man in front of him, although he felt a little emotional, but in line with the principle of respecting the elderly and caring for the young, he still politely extended his right hand.

"You should call me Qin Jian. What do you always call me?"

"You can call me Potter."

Porter? is a good name too.

"Uncle Potter, ma'am, I have to go up."

…

Qin Jian said goodbye to Old Porter and went directly to the second floor.

Opening the door, in front of a white piano in the corner, Liao Linjun, dressed in a white coat, was busy holding tools.

"Sister Lin Jun, morning."

Qin Jian greeted politely.

"Find a corner and memorize the score of the Presto from the First Sonata."

Liao Linjun did not look back, as if talking to himself.

Qin Jian's subconscious reaction was that he didn't need to memorize music at all, but he immediately gave up the idea.

After a simple conversation.

Qin Jian stuck out his tongue, found a place near the heater, unloaded his backpack, and sat down.

Open the panel and read the score carefully.

When it comes to the fourth movement Presto, Qin Jian really has never memorized it. He has only practiced the first three movements before. In addition, there is a sonata collection in the space, so the matter of memorizing music has been ignored.

Soon, Qin Jian's entire attention was focused on the music score.

The brain quickly analyzes every combination of note values ​​in each section and every emoticon that appears below the line score.

Perhaps because he has always been accustomed to playing in the style of Lao Che, Qin Jian himself discovered some things that he had never noticed during the process of reading music.

For example, a p (weak) mark heralds the beginning of a mysterious atmosphere, or a modulation may show an interesting conflict between the two tones before and after.

Qin Jian would occasionally close his eyes, move the five fingers of his left hand, and hum in his mouth.

In the quiet hall, only the female tuner would occasionally pluck a few strings and make a buzzing sound.

When the first ray of sunlight in the morning breaks into the house through the window.

Qin Jian stood up and shouted to Liao Linjun who was lying on the black grand piano, "Sister Lin Jun, I think I can do it."

"bomb."

The other person's faint word still seemed like he was talking to himself.

Qin Jian found a piano nearby and turned on his cell phone to record.

He placed his hands on the keyboard, and after a moment's hesitation, he opened the panel.

Angry and frustrated.

The fourth movement, Presto.

After going through it again, Qin Jian felt that some of the music score marks he had just focused on memorizing had played a different role in adding bricks and tiles.

The whole song is a little clearer in expression.

Just when Qin Jian was waiting for the other party's comments.

"Go on and carry it."

There was a sound, and then a thin book flew over and landed on the piano board.

Qin Jian picked it up and saw that it was a sheet of music for the Piano Sonata No. 1 in F minor.

The score also has a large letter L written in the upper corner.

Open.

The paper is slightly yellowed, and there are no various marks or writing marks on the lines of the music that I imagined.

Clean and tidy.

Looking at the score in his hand, Qin Jian thought for a while.

Judging from the other party's reaction, it was obvious that his performance just now was denied.

Since the other party emphasizes memorizing this word again, it must be that the aspect of memorizing it must not be up to standard in the other party's auditory experience.

It seems that the relationship between back and performance is the key to solving the problem.

"Recite the score." Qin Jian curled his lips and fiddled with his fingers relatively unconsciously.

Suddenly, looking at the music score in his hand, Qin Jian sat up smartly.

There was a flash in my heart.

Memorize music.

I have never memorized this score at all!

Although in the eyes of others, I am playing off the score, and even subconsciously I feel that I already know the score by heart, this appearance is always because there is a sonata collection in my own space.

This should be the problem.

Qin Jian vaguely grasped a feeling. Although he was still unsure of the ultimate purpose of Liao Linjun asking him to memorize the score, the other party could conclude that he had not memorized the score just by listening to it. This at least explained one problem.

From the other party's perspective, my own room for improvement regarding this piece of music lies in continuing to memorize it and truly memorize the score.

Come again!

Qin Jian then turned the music score to the fourth movement.

This time, Qin Jian did not open the panel again.

Without Uncle Che's performance in his ears, Qin Jian felt that his concentration was more concentrated when looking at the paper music score.

Qin Jian still starts from the first measure of each section, but this time, Qin Jian pays more attention to each note.

There was no longer the sound of the demonstration piano in my ears, and every dry tadpole text seemed to have undergone some subtle changes.

Even if he sees an ordinary sf symbol again, Qin Jian can quickly think of several playing methods and sound sensations by associating the word "sudden force" in his mind.

There is no longer just one sound, although this sound belongs to such an important role in the history of human pianos as Czerny.

But behind this melody, it actually consists of the height and length of each note on the score.

Each stroke after stroke comes from that divine figure who comes like a comet.

Beethoven is something that cannot be copied.

Qin Jian scratched his head, smiled sheepishly, and then continued to immerse himself in the yellowed paper.

…

"Xiao Liu, has the list of domestic judges for this competition been finalized?"

In a small office, a middle-aged man with a Chinese character, about forty years old, sat behind his desk, flipping through the book in his hand, and asked calmly to the young man standing in front of him.

"Most of the invitations we sent out have been responded to. Take a look." The young man, who was called Xiao Liu, handed the document in his hand to the desk.

The middle-aged man picked it up and glanced at it. Suddenly, the muscles around the eye sockets moved slightly, fleetingly, "Okay, I understand, is there anything else?"

"Recently, several international brand musical instrument dealers want to invite you to sit down. What do you think?"

The middle-aged man pondered for a moment and said, "Let the news go out. The use of designated musical instruments will be cancelled."

"Understood."

After the young people left, the middle-aged man picked up the list again.

Looking at the familiar name between the lines, his expression was slightly complicated.

"Are you finally willing to come back?"

…

Two hours have passed, or three hours.

Qin Jian was not sure.

When he put down the music score in his hand and came to the piano, he didn't even notice that he was alone on the second floor.

This time there was no other preparation work, and the panel was not even opened again.

When the falling sound comes out, it is still the running of the instant sound flow.

It's not fast.

The sun shone on the young man's back, and a shadow covered the piano.

As the shadows undulated and swayed, the music seemed to have a touch of vitality, and it seemed like it was expanding crazily.

Despite the restlessness, the calm sound of the piano filled the entire piano hall.

Next to the bar on the first floor, Liao Linjun took a sip from a glass of light green wine, looked at the cedars outside the window and said, "17 years old, how do you think?"

"Jian!!"
Chapter completed!