In the quiet lounge, even the sound of a pin falling to the floor would be heard. Feeling as if he had heard an auditory hallucination, Qi Mu asked, tentative, âMr. Farrell, excuse me. . . but who is that?â
Farrell was not bored in the least with Qi Muâs inquiry. He smiled and lifted his cup. He repeated it patiently, âQi, you didnât hear me wrong. Iâm talking about Reed Akkad. He went to the National Higher Conservatory of Music in Paris. As far as I know, he is still waiting for a student.â
This old manâs voice was casual as if he was saying something trivial. But in Qi Muâs ears, it stunned him to stillness.
Reed Akkad, who was he?
Well, the great Master of the violin was over seventy years old, but last year he put on a grand performance with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra.
Akkadâs skill with a violin stood at the top of the world. Due to the difficulty of his play and his fantastical hand-speed, he had a resounding nicknameââ
ââThe contemporary Paganini.
This was, of course, also because Akkadâs first performance on stage took first place in Genoaâs Paganini Competition. However, Akkadâs mystical ability truly made the entire world sigh.
Farrell and Akkad went separate directions. The former played each piece with skill and rich emotion. Whenever someone mentioned the latter, despite Akkad having a deep understanding of music, the first thing that came to mind was his dazzling skill.
What Qi Mu least expected. . . this master had entered a music school and became a professor?
He could not help but feel a little doubt in his heart. Qi Muâs brow furrowed, and he looked up at the smiling Farrel. âBut. . . Mr. Farrel, as far as I know, Master Akkad is reluctant to accept students.â
Akkad was born poor, and he was self-taught. So, when he was young, he threatened that he would never accept a student in his lifetime. He believed that a true master could not be taught by anyone and that only hard self-study could produce a first-class violinist.
Farrell laughed. He sipped his tea and said, âQi, you are still young. You donât understand an old man. . . in the last ten, twenty, half a year of life, what kind of mentality is that? When we were young, we said a lot, and a lot of it was rubbish. Now, at our age, it is natural to see farther and clearer. That kind of nonsense is stuff we said as children.â
Qi Mu took the initiative to renew the tea, and Farrel was a little surprised, then he smiled, âThank you.â
Farrell continued, âAkkad has a terrible temper, but, Qi, he will certainly be a good teacher. When I heard your ăD Majoră last night, I knew you had good skill, and you had an excellent feel for music. Yours was unique and delicate. After chatting with Hill today, I found out you are also good with Paganiniâs songs.â
Hill was Cheng Ting Wenâs English name. Qi Mu hadnât expected them to talk about his affairs.
He nodded, âYes, I prefer Paganiniâs songs. Whether itâs his 24 capriccios or the others, I have practiced them all.â
âThatâs great! Qi, since I spoke with Hill today, she gave me a copy of your performance last night and a few of your other albums. When I return to Europe, I will pass them on to Akkad.â Farrell paused then smiled again, âQi, you donât have to worry. I believe Akkad will be thrilled to have you as a student. I just hope. . . you wonât refuse my kindness.â
Farrell had learned from Cheng Ting Wen that Professor Karl had tried to take Qi Mu on a student and was rejected.
Professor Karl was also a well-known professor of music. Many of his students were in the worldâs top orchestras. If Qi Mu could refuse him, then he was also very likely to reject becoming Akkadâs student.
While Farrellâs thoughts went that route, Qi Mu lowered his eyes and furrowed his brow without responding.
The morning sun shone through the window, and the leaves outside rustled against the glass, isolating the light into dappled rays that scattered over the youthâs almost transparent cheeks.
After a long time, Qi Mu glanced up then at Farrell. He was surprised to find the worldâs top violinist, without even a hint of anxiety, watching him, waiting for his answer.
The last string holding his heart back snapped in two. He sighed, âThank you for your kindness, Mr. Farrell, but. . . I donât know if Master Akkad will accept me as a student. If I had the opportunity, I would be honored.â
The implication being that Qi Mu was hopeful about becoming Akkadâs student.
Perhaps Qi Mu was a tad too proud. The moment news that âReed Akkad wished to take a studentâ was released, there would be more than a hundred people gathering outside Parisâs National Conservatory to set eyes upon the master.
But, Farrell did not appear upset with Qi Muâs answer. He knew this promising young man must have had his own reasons for rejecting Professor Karlâs invitation. Therefore, it was justifiable for him to not make a decisive decision in the face of his own request half a year later.
Farrell stood up and smiled. He extended a hand and said, âTrust me, Qi, you are very good. You are the student Akkad has been looking for.â
Qi Mu immediately stood up and clasped hands with Farrell. His lips curled upward in a smile, âThank you for your praise. I was fortunate to have this opportunity to meet you today.â
The two exchanged a few more sentences, then Qi Mu saw Farrell off at the S City Symphonyâs entrance.
Zhu Wen Jun and Cheng Ting Wen also came over to send him off. The group chatted politely, then Farrell turned to step towards the car, but he seemed to think of something. Farrell turned and looked at Qi Mu.
Everyone knew that Farrell Louis had presbyopia (farsightedness). He squinted a little and seriously looked Qi Mu up and down again. He seemed to look straight through him.
A long stretch of time passed, then just when the polite smile on Qi Muâs face was about to falter, the master burst into laughter. He asked, âQi, do you have an English name?â
Silhouetted by the winter sun, the young manâs face appeared softer, even as he frowned in confusion. Qi Muâs eyes flashed with a trace of bewilderment, and he shook his head. âMr. Farrell, I never took my English name.â
Farrell nodded. âI was too far away last night, and I couldnât see clearly. Today, it was too dark in the lounge, so there wasnât much I could see. But now, Qi. . . I think there is a name that suits you very well.â
Somehow, Qi Muâs heart leaped with a bad feeling. He subconsciously took a half step backward, but he could not ignore Farrellâs presence. He bit the bullet, pushed through, and asked with a smile, âFarrell. . . I donât know what youâre talking about. . .â
âHow about Angel?â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
âPfffft. . . â Cheng Ting Wen, the closest, suddenly burst into laughter. When Farrell looked at her, she waved a hand and said, âMr. Farrell, I think. . . ah, Angel suits Xiao Qi very well, pffffft. . .â
Zhu Wen Jun looked at his wife helplessly then whispered, âYou. . . really, ah. . .â
Farrell did not seem to notice how drastic his words were. He nodded and gazed at Qi Mu solemnly. âQi, you are truly a beautiful child. Your music is also excellent. Cute as an Angel. This name really suits you.â
The mascot Xiao Tian Shi*/Xiao Qi: â. . .â
Cheng Ting Wen laughed until Farrellâs care had disappeared around the corner. She heaved in breathlessness. In contrast, her husband was positively stern, his expression making Qi Mu feel much more comfortable.
However, it did not last for long. He only saw Zhu Wen Junâs eyes squint a little, then he looked at Qi Mu and said, âXiao Qi, I heard Mr. Daniel Duke used to call you Engelchan*. . . or something? Why donât you make your English name Angel?â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
. . .
In a single afternoon, the entire orchestra learned that he had been given an English name by Farrell. âAngelâ of all things.
After spending several hours at the headquarters, Qi Mu had seen countless members laughing and beckon him over with a grin from ear to ear, all shouting âAngel.â
This ubiquitous âbad nameâ was unavoidable. Qi Mu changed his flight to B City for that evening. In the face of Cheng Ting Wenâs enthusiasm, he did not hesitate to board the plane.
Just before he entered the security checkpoint, Cheng Ting Wen, who came to drop him off at the airport, raised her hand to wipe away the nonexistent tear in the corner of her eye. Her tone was low when she said, âAngel, you have to go study in Paris. Your auntie Cheng. . . I will certainly go see you often!â