The festival used ten small squares of this European styled tourist town. They were styled like a medieval plaza in a circular town square. The streets were red brick, and it was not a large area. In fact, it was quite simple, but there were several performers in such a plaza.
Of course, it was impossible to perform in the center of the squares, as that was where each celebrity column was placed. As they walked, Qi Mu passed six or seven squares and spotted the columns for different maestros like Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, and Strauss.
When they reached the seventh, he saw a familiar figure from afar.
A picture of a tall man was illuminated by a spotlight and hung in the center of the square. On the left side was information of his achievements while the right was filled with the dozens of sonata concertos he had written, including his piano etudes.
Qi Mu read the dense text and turned to look at the picture in the middle. The man in it was beautiful and elegant, wearing a black tuxedo and holding a baton. It was most likely captured during one of his concerts.
Seeing the noble character in the photograph, Qi Mu turned to look at Min Chenâs calm expression and couldnât help but laugh, âI didnât expect to see yours here. What a surprise. . .â
If this was a week ago, he would never dare say such a thing to Min Chen. After getting along for the past week, he had come to regard the other man as a friend so it was easy to say something playful.
While he was being teased by the youth, Min Chenâs face remained indifferent and his expression didnât change in the slightest. He glanced at the picture of himself with disinterest and pointed at the listening booth. âIt should be the ăDawn Concertoă and ăViolin Sonata in A Minoră.â
Qi Mu was a little surprised to hear him speak but went over to pick up the headphones. He put it on and started to listen.
During their walk, Min Chen would occasionally point out the songs being played at the celebrity columns. He didnât do it for all of them, but he had made almost no mistakes. Qi Mu listened to all twenty songs on the way there and Min Chen had only been wrong once.
The headphones had good sound insulation and were probably specially prepared for this, so they could showcase a variety of instruments. Qi Mu closed his eyes and focused on the songs playing. After a moment, he chuckled and set them down. He turned to Min Chen.
He just smiled without saying anything.
Under the bright sunshine, the young manâs hair was dyed golden. He stared at the man opposite him with a silent smile long enough that even Min Chen couldnât help but frown and ask in a low voice, âWhat is it?â
Qi Mu shook his head. Then he pointed at the headphones and said, âYou wrote ăDawn Concertoăthree years ago and the track selected should be from the type you performed in the Carnegie Hall two years ago in New York. As for the second one. . .â After a pause, Qi Mu laughed a little and said, âThe second one is ăVeronicaă, and it should be a recent performance. I havenât heard it before.â
Even if the same orchestra played the same piece, there were subtle deviations to the performance. To be able to pick out the differences while they played, however, proved that the listener had a good ear and was an extraordinary musician. . . It also proved that he was familiar with the song, or at least had heard it several times.
The words Qi Mu let slip surprised Min Chen enough that, even through the sunglasses, Qi Mu could see the man freeze up.
To guess someone elseâs song wrong, it was excusable. . . but to get his own song wrong, that was really. . .
Min Chen reached for the headphones and put them on. After listening for a while, he set them back down. His slender fingers removed the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose and revealed a pair of deep, unfathomable eyes.
Min Chen turned to look at the youth who was watching intently but laughing without a sound and said solemnly, âăVeronicaă was chosen for this yearâs tour in Berlin, and it hasnât been recorded for long.â After a while, when there was no change in Qi Muâs laughing expression, his mouth soured and his tone was not good, âThe number of people who would select this song is limited, you have to understand.â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
Seeing that the youth still seemed to be laughing, he coughed a little and switched topics, âI remember thereâs supposed to be a concert from Montreal tonight, should we go now?â
Since the other had gone so far as to change the topic already, Qi Mu had no choice but to whisper a laugh twice more and reluctantly stop. He nodded, and the two walked together to the concert hall further south.
The Montreal Symphony Orchestra was from Canada, and also one of the worldâs leading orchestras. The current conductor is Japanese and also famous, Mr. Nagano. Although he was Asian, his style was Europeanized and similar to Mr. Dorenza but had its own unique charm.
Everyone was listening intently and no one noticed Min Chen and Qi Mu. Once the concert was over, Min Chen quickly replaced his sunglasses and hat and hid from view again.
Watching this, Qi Mu felt dumbfounded.
He was beginning to feel like he was walking next to a. . . âspy.â
This sneaky trip to Hong Kong lasted about three days. On the afternoon of the fourth day, Min Chen and Qi Mu were appreciating the melodious saxophone of a street performer when they suddenly heard clear, fluent English amidst the festival.
âThe Sea Music Festival welcomes the arrival of several distinguished tourists. At 8 oâclock this evening, Master Allen Boswell from the New York Philharmonic Orchestra will lead a grand performance at the Gemont Theater.â
âNow, Master Boswell is recruiting a violin concertmaster to lead the orchestra in playing Sibeliusâ op.39 ăFirst Symphonyă. Recruitment will be from 9 am to 3 pm tomorrow. All music lovers are welcome to join!â
The broadcast was repeated three times, in Chinese, German, and Japanese. When it was completely over, everywhere the radio could be heard had fallen silent. After a moment, a burst of sound overtook the silence.
âThat New York Philharmonicâs Master Boswell?â
âMy God! Thatâs New York love, you can play on the same stage as New York love!â
âAh, why do you only need a violinist? My cello is pretty good, ah.â
. . .
This unexpected event had shocked everyone at the festival. Many violinists were so excited they couldnât speak clearly, and could only grab their companionsâ hands and cheer. The musicians that werenât violinists sighed helplessly but looked forward to this special performance by New York love.
The New York Philharmonic Orchestra was another worldâs leading orchestras. Although it had been founded for less than a hundred years, it had a record that no one could break. On December 18, 2004, they gave a total of 14,000 performances.
Such an orchestra was the best of classical music in the United States, and Mr. Allen Boswell, the music director and principal conductor, was also outstanding. His solemn but elegant style was well supported by fans.
It could be said that this orchestra was one of the leading attractions for tourists to attend this festival.
And now, New York love had officially announced that they wanted to collaborate with a violinist to play Sibeliusâ op.39 ăFirst Symphonyă. For many violinists, this was a great glory. Even the professionals wanted to have this opportunity.
Qi Mu felt his heart beating vigorously in his chest. But he hadnât even returned to himself yet when he heard a magnetic voice ringing in his ear, âGo participate in that recruitment pitch.â
He slipped a bit and subconsciously turned to look at the man.
He didnât know when but Min Chen had taken off his sunglasses and only the large hat was covering the upper half of his face. The sun shone down onto the black velvet and cast a shadow onto his face. Perhaps it was his mixed blood, but Min Chenâs eyes were especially profound and sharper than a knife.
Min Chen looked at him seriously and repeated, âThe New Yorkâs recruitment drive, go participate.â
Qi Mu stared for a moment then broke into a smile and nodded, âI will definitely go.â
Qi Mu wasnât shy or timid. Since New York had put out this opportunity, he more than had the qualifications to fight for it.
Min Chen hadnât expected him to be so direct, but after a moment of hesitation, his lips curled into a smile.
There were some Chinese who were too humble and werenât interested in seizing opportunities in public. Min Chen mistakenly thought that Qi Mu was also hesitant and spoke deliberately to motivate him.
After thinking for a while, he asked, âYou came with a violin, right?â
Qi Mu laughed, âOf course I brought it. I plan to go back and practice a little to prepare for tomorrow.â
Since the announcement, several violinists packed up their instruments and left. They wanted to hurry and practice to better their chances.
Qi Mu was no exception. Once he had decided to return to the hotel, Min Chen casually decided to accompany him. The taxi traveled over Hong Kongâs famous Tsing Ma bridge, and the distant horizon was only layers of blue where sea met the sky.
Qi Mu couldnât endure the excitement in his heart and turned to look out the window.
âAllen is better at Mahlerâs symphonies. At last yearâs new year concert in Vienna, he mentioned that out of Mahlerâs repertoire, he preferred ăThe Boyâs Miraculous Hornă.â
Qi Mu turned his head to look at Min Chen with surprise. But, he only saw the indifferent man looking at his phone. It seemed to be a casual statement.
What he didnât know was that Min Chen was telling him. . . to choose ăThe Boyâs Miraculous Hornă for tomorrow.
In fact, Qi Mu had met Allen Boswell while in the Vienna Symphony Orchestra. He was good friends with Evra, so he occasionally went to see him in Vienna. So Qi Mu knew that he preferred Mahlerâs work, but he didnât know. . . that he preferred ăThe Boyâs Miraculous Hornă.
Min Chen had suddenly said something like this with such a cold demeanor.
Qi Mu couldnât explain the sudden warmth in his chest, but he nodded and said, âThank you, Min Chen. . .â
The handsome man only said âhmm,â as if he hadnât heard anything at all.
When he looked out the window again, the taxi had passed the Tsing Ma bridge and the scenery outside had switched from the bustling port city to the slightly deserted Lantau Island. Looking at the clear sky, Qi Muâs mood was much better and he felt less stressed.
What he didnât know is that, at his side, Min Chen looked at the texts on his phone and finally relaxed a little.
Daniel: You asked why New Yorkâs suddenly attracting people. I heard it was to deliberately create some activities for the festival. I heard there were some problems with publicity early on, so the organizers are using this to help spread the word.
Min Chen stared at the fluorescent screen and tapped at it, quickly sending a message.
After a while, Danielâs response came back: God, hey, why are you asking so carefully? My God, you donât want to go to the recruitment drive, right? Your violin is worse than Christoleâs. While itâs expected to be an amateur this time, donât make me lose so much face!
Min Chen hadnât even read the first message and another one came in: No, no, no. If youâre going to be this ugly, Iâll call Boswell and ask him to give you a piano. Can you see it?
Min Chen: â. . .â
Daniel, who was in Berlin, received a brief message.
ăShut up, donât intervene.ă
Without giving him time to react, another came in.
ăMy violin is good.ă
Daniel: â. . .â
Oh, God!
Even if you do beat those amateurs, itâs nothing to be proud of, ah!