The Parisâ National Conservatory of Music held these tests four times a year. Since it was one of the worldâs top classical music schools, orchestras often observed outstanding students at their assessments.
However, some believed the stream of talent was beginning to fade. For several years, no one was bright enough to catch anyoneâs gaze. Of course, that was the high-demanding masters.
The audience seemed unusually large. It made sense, though. To recuperate from the slump of the past few years, the college official specially invited the famous Spanish cellist Melinoff, French music connoisseur Master Leonid, âThe Queen of the Violinâ Bella Kem, and. . . Min Chen.
As long as any one of them appeared, it would create a disturbance in the French music industry. With all of them gathered together, the whole world of classical music couldnât help but sneak in to witness the event.
Melinoff, Leonid, and even Bella Kim, they could understand. But. . .why Min Chen?
All the others were excellent students who graduated from the Parisâ National Conservatory of Music. It was natural for them to return to their alma mater to honor the request. But, it was converse for Min Chen.
Everyone knew Auston Bertram graduated from the Leipzig Conservatory in Germany. Not only that, but this elegantly cold music master had not participated with a competition for three years. The last time he served as a judge was in Xiaosai four years ago.
So. . .
âWhy did Mr. Bertram become a judge this time?!â
Countless audience members and the media from various countries in Europe pondered this question.
When Qi Mu woke and started for the college with his violin case, he was shocked to see the horde of people standing in front of the gates.
It may as well have been the Chinese Spring Festival, the crowd was so lively. Some even carried valuables like SLR cameras and tried to squeeze in. At least the noisy group was detained at the collegeâs entrance. Beyond it, the cobblestone path was packed but much quieter.
Before Qi Mu got to the concert hall, he caught sight of Dylan, his violin case also in hand. They greeted each other and walked together.
Dylan nervously clutched his treasured violin. âLittle Seven, did you see the crowd at the gate? Itâs terrible! Iâve never seen so many people in my life!â
The brunet looked like a small child crying out, âToo scary, too scary! Mama, come and save me!â Qi Mu couldnât help but laugh. He patted Dylanâs broad shoulder and said, âDylan, you should never go to Huaxia. There. . . Well, how to say it? The subway is worse than this.â
Dylan touched his head, eyes wide, and asked, âWhat do you mean, Little Seven? Does the subway eat people? Iâve heard that there are a lot of monsters in Huaxia. . . Is the subway one of them?!â
Qi Mu recalled a famous saying. He looked at Dylan and spoke solemnly, âNo, Dylan. Thereâs a rule in Huaxia. After the founding of the republic, no one is allowed to become a ghost. So the subways youâve heard of are all forbidden from turning into monsters.â
Although the Swiss musician felt like Qi Mu was teasing him, when he saw his stern expression, he unconsciously took the tale seriously. Dylan shrunk his neck in fear and said with horror, âWell, no wonder my father always said. . . Huaxia is a magical and beautiful country. It turns out that Huaxia. . . is full of wonders.â
When he saw the manâs expression, Qi Mu couldnât contain his laughter.
After a few more jokes, they arrived at the concert hall.
Although it was a concert hall for their own use, the National Conservatory hadnât spared any expense. With an interior designed by world-renowned architects and materials carefully selected to create the best acoustics, the building itself was masterfully constructed.
Though it wasnât the first time he entered the concert hall, Qi Mu deliberately walked behind Dylan. He let the simple Swiss take him backstage, where the other students were starting their preparations. When he passed the preparatory room of the piano students, he heard two students talking excitedlyââ
âOh my God, Hooke, can you believe it? We will have the honor of Mr. Bertram commenting on our performance!â
âGood God, Lewis, I know youâre excited. I know Mr. Bertram is your idol, but could you let go of my sleeves?â
âNo, Hooke! You donât get it! The thing that inspired me to seriously learn the piano was Mr. Bertramâs performance at XiaoSai!â
âYes, yes, yes. Youâve said so three times a day. . .â
âAh, ah, ah! Hooke, I can get a commentary from Mr. Bertram. . .â
. . .
The two students squealed as they walked away, but Qi Mu stopped to watch them go with wide eyes. He was so shocked, someone might as well have shouted, âThe heavens have collapsed!â
âLittle Seven? Why are you stopping?â
Dylanâs voice brought him back to his senses. He slowly turned to Dylan, then asked calmly and clearly, âDylan. . . Please tell me honestly. There is another Mr. Bertram who participated in XiaoSai, right?â
Dylanâs eyes also widened. âIs there another Mr. Bertram? I donât really know, Little Seven. Didnât Mr. Bertram tell you. . . he would be one of the judges today?â
Qi Mu: â. . .â
Qi Mu smiled reluctantly. âIt seems. . . thatâs what he might have been wanting to tell me.â
Dylan: â???â
. . .
When Qi Mu walked into the violin departmentâs lounge, he set down his violin case and sent a text to Min Chin.
He received, âIâm already sitting at the judgeâs table,â as a response. Qi Mu couldnât stop himself from covering his face with his hands. He finally understood. . . why Min Chinâs face was so stiff yesterday.
Indeed, the yearâs main judge couldnât be a violinist. So, wasnât a world-class pianist qualified?
Qi Mu should have thought of it earlier. Min Chen had been in Paris for quite a while, maybe the academy had contacted him long ago? Perhaps Min Chen as the main judge was set in stone well before then?
He heaved a long sigh and dismissed that thought. Qi Mu didnât have the time to think about it. Dylan already roped him along to discuss his ârank snatching strategy.â
The assessment didnât divide the students by their musical instruments. Departments like piano and violin could send 4 â 5 students to participate. Whereas, it was rare for departments like the drums or harp to send more than 2 students. Most of the other departments only sent one student.
Therefore, for the equally matched violin and piano department, it became a contest to see which department would occupy the higher ranking and who would place at the top of the ranking in every assessment.
âDylan, try to keep Lewis under control. He was scolded a lot by his mentor recently. Perhaps his violin has suffered.â
âZach, how are you doing these days? Can you suppress Hooke?â
âJenny, if you beat Lenna, I think we can have it easy.â
âOh, Little Seven, itâs your first time participating, so take it easy. We will not give you any task. Get acquainted with our enemies. The guys in the piano department. . . are good opponents!â
The leader was called Angelo, a proud student of the violin department. He was an American adolescent with brown hair and blue eyes. Tall and lanky like a bamboo pole, he was quite enthusiastic and talkative.
At the sound of his name, Qi Mu nodded. âI understand.â
As soon as Qi Muâs voice fell, Zach sighed. âDamn, this yearâs judge is Mr. Bertram. Although itâs an honor to have him as the main judge. . . Mr. Bertram is a pianist. Iâm afraid heâll be partial to those guys in the piano department.â
Dylan disagreed. âAh, Zach, you donât know. Mr. Bertram and Little Seven. . . uh. . .â
Qi Mu covered Dylanâs mouth with his hand, and everyone turned to look at him. He sighed helplessly said, âMin and I. . . know each other. But I believe he will never be partial to anyone. When it comes to music, he will fair and just.â
Shocked for a moment, Angelo blinked then smiled. âLittle Seven! Of course, we know Mr. Bertram will be fair. Donât listen to Zach, this jerk. Letâs leave him alone and discuss. . . What track are you going to perform today?â
Seeing Angelo walking away with Qi Mu, Dylan stared at them for a moment. Then, he realized, âDamn it! That Angelo guy worships Mr. Bertram! He must want to ask for Mr. Bertramâs signature on his CD from Little Seven!â
âHey, Ange! Angelo! You come back here!!!â
. . .
Most of the audience went to their seats.
Aside from the judgeâs ten seats at the front, there was also a seat for the dean.
A handsome, black-haired man sat at the center of the judgesâ table talking with the other masters, occasionally making them laugh.
A gold plaque rested on his table.
There was an English name engraved in small cursive on the lower part of the metal plaque, occupying about a fifth of the spaceââ