Old-time musicians

Good sleep this time

So heavy, so confused

Fan Ning woke up leisurely from the auditorium, his head tilted to one side, almost parallel to his shoulder.

——A typical bad posture after falling asleep in a sitting position.

The environment is unusually quiet, my heartbeat is slightly faster than usual, and I can hear it.

Taiwan Novel Network→𝕥𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞

My neck felt like it was sealed with cement, and it hurt like hell every time I lifted it upright.

It took a while for Fan Ning to raise his head with difficulty and slowly open his eyes.

Vision is dim and blurry.

He could barely see the stage facing him in front of him through a few weak green light sources in the distance.

There is also a row of potted flowers at the front of the stage, a few chairs and music stands further inside, and a grand piano in the middle.

The object's black outline is shrouded in a dull, ghostly green.

Fan Ning finally came to his senses.

Isn't it? No one woke me up after the show?

The concert hall just ended and the lights were turned off?

Are all the staff here clearing the place for inspection?

…

Fan Ning is a recent graduate of science and engineering and a deep enthusiast of classical music.

Since childhood, I have enjoyed playing the piano, listening to records or concerts, and studying various composers and music theories.

With this kind of attribute, as long as the appearance is good and the emotional intelligence is online, it is easy to gain a group of peers and fans in school and experience a relatively rich emotional life.

Various titles similar to "great god" were attached to him, as well as the highlight moments in clubs or cultural activities, which made him once feel that he was not an ordinary person.

Until he started being beaten up by society.

A chemical company in the urban-rural fringe, moving bricks in the laboratory, embarrassing salary, workplace troubles, and the landlord's quarrel.

Within a few months, all the elements were in place, and everything was inevitably moving towards vulgarity.

Fortunately, I have this spiritual comfort.

——For example, tonight, a 2-hour drive to the city center during the break between 996 work, a concert of Bach’s chamber music works.

Fan Ning's memory of the last second was when he was listening to the performance.

In the dim concert hall, his vision gradually adapted and his physical weakness eased slightly.

"I have never felt sleepy before. Can I fall asleep while listening to a concert? It doesn't exist."

Confused, he stood up, ready to take out his phone to see what time it was.

Alas, I have to continue moving bricks tomorrow...

After groping around for a while, the feel of the clothes seemed unfamiliar, but I still felt the phone.

No signal, battery 1%, time 23:30, long after the concert ends at 10 o'clock.

A bunch of DingTalk work news shows that the boss still doesn’t forget to gank employees frantically even on the 996 weekend.

But the top one is——

SMS?

[Reproduce the music in your memory to the audience of this world. ]

[As fast as possible, as much as possible. ]

[If you want to live. ]

[0/100]

The time was 21:30, and the number was a bunch of garbled characters.

Wha, what's going on? What's the meaning?

The time when I received it was during the second half of the concert, perhaps when I was cutting off the piece.

Fan Ning looked around the concert hall doubtfully, feeling more and more something was wrong.

Although I couldn't see the far wall clearly, this concert hall was much smaller than I thought, with no more than a hundred seats for the audience.

The dim green light source was not a safe passage sign, but came from a few unclearly visible lights high up on the wall.

Fan Ning swiped down the control panel of his phone and turned on the flash.

Most naturally, he shined towards the stage first.

This photo scared him so much that his heart felt like it had been hit hard by a heavy hammer!

Two white figures jumped out under the flash!

No, to be precise, they are just two humanoid silhouettes on the stage plane. The twisted head, torso and limbs are outlined by indescribable light smoke-like traces, and then diffused radially.

It's like being dissolved, burned, or evaporated by something unknown.

The battery of the mobile phone is low, it automatically shuts down, and the vision returns to darkness.

Fan Ning's back was instantly covered with cold sweat.

"Is this the musician on the stage before?"

He felt as if he shouted instinctively, and then took a few steps back.

But in fact, his voice was hoarse and he didn't move.

It wasn't until I almost couldn't feel my body anymore that I mustered up the courage to move my legs.

He didn't dare to turn around, let alone run. Instead, he retreated step by step, retreated from the stage, retreated to the wall, retreated to a connection similar to a corridor, turned around and plunged into the darkness.

At the end of the darkness, after groping wildly, I finally found something similar to a gate, and then pushed it open.

A bright light shone into his eyes.

It's not the sunlight from the outside, but the flashlights in the hands of several people outside the door.

"Police, stop, calm down!"

Amid the dazzling discomfort, Fan Ning's vision was intermittent and blurry.

He first saw the three-breasted black uniforms, then saw the khaki tasseled epaulettes and sleeve ornaments, and finally saw the red and white checkered wide-brimmed hats on their heads, and the solemn expressions under the hats.

"" Fan Ning was stunned, not only because of their attire and appearance, but also what they said.

He had never heard this language before, and now he was familiar with it at a strange speed.

This sentence was like a huge spoon, stirring up something in his mind, causing something to break, bringing out a lot of chaotic memory fragments:

This is Uvrancel in the year 912 of the new calendar, the second largest industrial city in the Theolian Empire.

Carloen van Nin, a fourth-year student at St. Lenya University, majoring in music.

His father was once a well-known folk artist in this city and the director of the Turner Art Gallery. He lost contact three years ago and has not been heard from since; his mother died of illness many years ago.

In this era, there is no longer a feudal-style strict hierarchy, but social classes are still distinguished by superiority and inferiority. The upper resources belong to the nobles, academic tycoons, large factory owners, and the extraordinary group of mysterious rumors who have a transcendent status - "the knowledgeable".

With his middle-class background, it is difficult to reach the threshold of this imperial aristocratic public school.

But his father's identity as an artist seems to have a great bonus in this world.

Of course, as soon as he disappeared, his status in the school quickly changed from passerby level to sewer level.

If it weren't for the high tuition fees for four years that he paid in one lump sum when he enrolled, he might have been kicked out now.

The operation of the art gallery is naturally unsustainable.

At first, he sold some of his father's paintings to settle debts, maintain equipment, and pay staff salaries.

Later, he had to lay off staff, close the museum, live frugally, and live alone in a small apartment.

Traveled through time, did he travel through time?

Fanning's head ached again and again, and the chaotic and complicated fragments of memory crowded and pushed each other, gradually turning into upset roars and mutterings in his ears. He went from standing to squatting, and from squatting to lying, and the figures of the police in his sight became more and more blurred.

...

When he opened his eyes again, Fanning saw the ceiling.

And

Why is this thing still in front of him?

The last line of the text message: [0/100]

The faint light gold color made Fanning suspect that he was dazzled.

It seemed that when he had this thought, it would be more obvious, and when his attention was diverted, it would fade to almost transparent.

"Awake? Mr. Carloen Fanning? If you are still in good spirits, please get up first."

A voice very close interrupted his thoughts.

This is Hoffman, the official language of the Theolian Empire, and the language used by the Hoffmans, who make up the largest proportion of the population.

Fanning stood up and propped himself up on the edge of the hard bed.

A small room with four gray walls and two mahogany tables.

The pale light of the carbonized lamp shone on the only pen, paper and a vertically striped glass on the table.

The water in the glass reflected the cold light.

Sitting opposite were two policemen, dressed neatly, burly and serious.

One of them unscrewed the cap of the pen: "Let me introduce myself, Newman Elens, senior inspector of the Uflansel Police Department, responsible for the security of the Nelenia District."

"I slept all night? And, are you going to interrogate me?"

Fanning, who had just crossed over, was a little flustered.

He didn't know whether the human figure on the stage was a prank or the abnormal death of a living person, nor was he sure whether he was an innocent party or the initiator?

Calm down At least from the original owner's relatively complete memory, this matter was not done by him, and there was no need to hide anything, so he answered truthfully first.

Fanning calmed down: "Okay, Officer Ellens."

The officer took out an item from the drawer and placed it on the table: "Explain first, what is this?"

Fanning looked at his brand new touch-screen phone and checked the original owner's memory of this world again.

Then sweat began to break out on his forehead and vest.

In this steam-industrial world similar to the Victorian era, it is not easy for me to explain it to you, you know?

If I say this is the latest flashlight in the empire, do you believe it?

No, how can you be exposed right after crossing over?