Old-time musicians

On the premiere day of July 20, dawn has completely arrived.

The warm summer morning light is driving away the darkness of the office inch by inch.

Arriving with him were the two inspectors of the Special Inspection Department, seven senior investigators, and the impenetrable spiritual wall.

The third time you say hello with a tap on the shoulder like this?

A simple number in He Meng's words allowed Fan Ning to basically understand the true progress of the situation.

Surrounded by everyone, Fan Ning slowly turned around and walked back from the window to the desk where Norma Gunn was sitting.

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He lowered his head, leaned forward, and put the scattered music scores on the table back into place.

He went around to her back and carefully put the letter into the drawer.

"Are you sure you don't want to listen to the show? There are some people I want to see again." Fan Ning's tone seemed a little sad.

At the same time, he raised the porcelain cup on the table and slowly drank the small amount of boiled water.

"There are still 13 minutes." The female inspector gave a cold reminder.

Fan Ning looked around at the displays in the room, then closed his eyes and opened them again, shook his head and smiled coldly:

"Then please, everyone."

At 5:40 in the morning, the aisle was only dimly lit with dim security lights, and Fan Ning strolled on the red carpet.

He passed by Sheeran's exclusive guest room next door, but didn't turn around or slow down.

Keep moving forward without looking back.

The figures and footsteps behind were like ghosts, and dense spiritual barriers followed them like shadows.

He went to several dry storage rooms one after another and took out the nine paintings that had been inspected one by one.

It includes five forgeries, including four other originals that also make the Special Patrol Office suspicious. The real work is still in the cloakroom, but in fact it doesn't matter if it is handed over to the Special Patrol Office. The initiative for sublimation is in your own hands.

The investigator next to him took the nine canvases and rolled them up.

Finally, in the S-shaped exhibition hall area of ​​the Turner Art Museum, everyone followed him into a circular souvenir sales room.

A shelf containing exquisite picture albums moved out of thin air.

Going in circles does not change the outcome. Instead, violent searches or violence will destroy this art palace and threaten the lives of your companions.

Salman sighed: "It's a good isolation ritual. If it is completely aimless, it is indeed difficult to pay attention. If it were not for the re-examination of various clues and the key revelations of the 'disaster', we would have thought it was special." So much for the secrets of the Art Museum.”

"After you brought out "The Room of Pain", you sublimated into this rear, right?" He Meng's silver cane touched the wall: "Familiarity...strangeness...I'm curious about how you disguised yourself as Wa Xiu He has not yet been discovered, so how accurate is the content of your report to the leader at the meeting? "

"Can lies hide his mysterious knowledge?" Fan Ning shook his head and chuckled, "What I said are naturally guesses that I think are true. You have to judge whether it is right or wrong."

Under He Meng's methods, these walls seemed to gradually melt like wax, changing from a solid state to a viscous gel state.

"Commander Fan Ning, you are familiar with it." He made an inviting gesture.

"There is no need to use this kind of excuse to coerce the way. Do you think I dare to go down there without the company of you guys?"

Fan Ning asked in a calm tone, but he did not refuse to cooperate unnecessarily. He directly stretched out his hand and squeezed in through the sticky wax glue layer.

At the top of the black stone brick road, gems and minerals shine with an idiosyncratic shimmer. The ritual vessel "consecration curtain" hangs quietly above it, and the witness talisman of the "tower builder" flows with electric light.

After passing a certain vertical plane, the foul smell of decay instantly filled the throat and nose.

Fan Ning squatted by the well and saw Gang's black figure slowly condensing next to it.

When she discovered that there was a bottomless well behind the secret door and smelled an unpleasant stench, she frowned and understood Fan Ning's intention in setting up this secret ritual.

Then he turned back to Salman, the third one who squeezed into the wall and climbed up, and said, "You guys get off first."

"Okay, Miss Oka." After receiving the order, Salman and six other investigators grabbed the handrails on the well wall and entered.

Fan Ning naturally understood what they meant, and followed them into the well without saying a word.

Then came the two Insighters. When He Meng was the last one to enter the well, he sealed the wellhead with a thick wax shell, and the semi-melted wall wallpaper outside gradually returned to its normal state.

It was as if yesterday's experience was repeated, but instead of two companions that could be relied on, there were nine enemies, seven in front and two in back, surrounding him.

After Fan Ning climbed down about thirty meters, he discovered a strange anomaly.

"Why do the handrails on the well wall always have a slightly slippery feeling this time?"

He continued downward, during which his palms quietly touched the stone bricks on the well wall several times, and then found that these stone bricks were full of large and small cracks, and they still had a slippery feel.

Obviously, the stone bricks felt perfectly fitted, fresh and smooth during the previous exploration.

Could it be that something happened or is happening below the art museum?

Fan Ning secretly kept an eye on it.

"Do you know the whereabouts of the wreckage of the 'old days'?" Norma Oang was clearly more than one meter above her, but her cold voice seemed to be coming from her ears.

"Why don't you just say that the wreckage is in my hands? After all, I named a band after it."

"How deep is it here?"

"You should ask the diggers." Fanning responded to her question indifferently.

For various well-known reasons, his strong irritability was written on his face.

He Meng, who had been secretly guessing his words and deeds, was accustomed to it and didn't notice it. Since Vincent built an art gallery here to cover it up after coming out of the abnormal area, he must need the "Fountain in the Painting" to do something. He thought Fanning knew some information and was preparing for exploration, but it was likely that the preparations were not completed and he hadn't had time to go in.

"Sir, there is no sign of bottoming out yet." Salman's heavy voice came from the bottom.

Dark vertical passage, long descent, mechanical repetitive movements.

A slightly monotonous time without fierce conflict, taking advantage of the little calm, Fanning was calculating the current situation, the chances of winning and the final possible progress in his mind.

The Special Patrol Office highly suspected his relationship with the "Old Days" wreckage, but the purpose of this trip should be mainly related to the "Fountain in the Painting" wreckage in the "Grand Court School" ruins. After all, in their opinion, the purpose of his pretending to be Vassius to go to the sealed room was to steal "The Painful Room", which was completely consistent with the report on the "Seven Lights Gate" at the Lianmeng Conference.

He would not go back to that command platform. Either he would stand in it for a long time this time, or he would solve the trouble and return to the surface in advance, and then escape from it all before the pursuit came.

But the advent of "Symphony No. 2" is an irreversible fact. The nature and mission of the discussion group destined it to be unable to erase a real work of art. It is destined to be performed by the world one day, and it will not be too long.

Last night, Fanning had left the note he should leave. At that moment, he felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

He spent this time with awe, concentration and restraint. He did not let down art, did not let down anyone's heart, and did not have to consider any influence other than himself.

The several "opportunities to escape" left by his father Vincent are his greatest reliance. The invisible power of the third level of the profound enlightenment is a huge threat to He Meng and Gang, but can he seriously injure or even kill them? Fan Ning feels it is hard to say. This is different from Vincent's unlimited personal action. The biggest advantage is that they may not expect this - he is just a ninth-level knowledgeable person who is fundamentally different from the profound enlightenment. Facing seven investigators of the same high level is already difficult to resist.

Now going deep into this place, the unknown environment is also a huge threat. If you solve the enemy but can't escape yourself, it will be in vain. Look at their movements and intentions first, and don't act rashly.

And if you take action, you must burst out at once and catch them off guard. Kill all those who can be killed, and defeat those who can be defeated as much as possible.

Fan Ning, who was climbing down the escalator, had a calm expression and even breathing, but the murderous intent in his eyes had flashed by inadvertently.

…

It was six forty in the morning.

Xilan woke up about half an hour earlier than usual, but when she opened her eyes, she found that Joan had gotten up early to change clothes and sat on the sofa in front of the French window in the room, staring out the window in a daze.

This was indeed a bit unusual, but she didn't ask much except saying good morning to each other. After a simple wash, she put on her pajamas and turned the door of the music director's office, which was only a few meters away.

The door was not locked. He didn't have the habit of smoking. The air in the office was full of fresh and familiar wood smell.

The desk was clean and orderly. Next to the pen holder were his bow tie and pocket watch. A thin suit jacket was draped over the chair, and a pile of books and music scores were neatly placed in the middle.

There was also a breakfast plate that was obviously just delivered by the servants, and it was still steaming hot.

He hadn't gotten up today?

In the past six months, the work and rest habits developed, the servants would deliver the meals to the office on time at 6:30, and then he would sit here and start eating.

After taking a glance at the table, Xilan stepped on her slippers, tiptoed to the living room door on the side, knocked on the door gently, and said in a low voice:

"Good morning, Carol."

"Are you up?"

She smiled and leaned the side of her head against the door.

"Carol, can you bring me another breakfast?"

Without a response, the girl smiled and blinked, stood there for a few minutes, and then knocked on the door again.

"If you don't get up, I will eat all the vegetable and fruit salad in your portion first."

"Drink the milk too."

Finally, Xilan's eyes flashed with doubt, and she took the keychain that Fanning gave her from her pocket.

He had never slept so long in bed. Even if he hadn't gone out yet, he should be washing and changing clothes.

After a little hesitation, she opened Fanning's living room door.

The morning light shone on the spacious three-section room, and the silhouette of the black grand piano in the distance shone with gold edges.

The light blue bed sheet with plant patterns was flat and clean, the pillow was in place, and the white blanket was neatly folded.

There was no movement in the bathroom.

After saying goodbye late at night, didn't he go to bed?

Why did he suddenly talk to me so much last night? Except for the day of Ms. Hamilton's funeral, this seemed to be the second time this year. Why did he smile and ask me about the birthday present in two months?

Sheeran's heart suddenly became anxious and uneasy.

She walked quickly back to Fanning's desk outside.

The top cover of the pile of books and music scores is "Choral Teaching and Conducting", which is the "Carron Conducting Method" that has entered the research field of music and education circles.

She took the thick textbook away and picked up the textbooks below one by one. They were still in the handwriting stage, but after flipping through them, they seemed to have been completed.

"Harmony Course" "Counterpoint Course" "Form Analysis Course" "Orchestration Course"

Then there are...

"Six Sonatas and Suites for Violin" "Six Cello Suites" "Six Flute and Piano Sonatas"

Sheeran's white and thin arms were shaking slightly.

At the bottom was the score of the "Second Symphony", which he held in his hand yesterday while leaning on the chair.

She felt a little difficult to breathe and held up the "Six Sonatas and Suites for Violin" with both hands.

While flipping through the pages, the page stopped at a page with letter paper.

Sonatas and suites seemed to be arranged alternately, and the stop here was the 4th one, Suite No. 2.

The fifth movement of Suite No. 2 in D minor, "Chaconne".

She didn't have the heart to look at the notes on it.

The back of the letter was as black as ink, and she turned it over with trembling hands.

The handwriting was familiar, but it seemed to be mixed with heterogeneous colors of pale gold and purple.

"From now on, I declare in writing that I will unilaterally withdraw from the Guidance School, resign as the president of the Uvransell branch, and resign as the music director of the Old Symphony Orchestra. All businesses and assets under the Turner Art Hall, as well as the copyrights of the scores, records or theoretical teaching materials that I have published or created, are all permanently and free of charge to Miss Hiram Connell, and the handwriting is a witness. Carolan Van Nin."

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"Bang!"

The music score in the girl's hand slipped and fell to the ground.

She felt like the sky was falling.

Yesterday... Yesterday he said...

...

"Old works are fine? You have a very small appetite."

"Did you have a big idea in mind?"

"Very big."

"How big?"

"As big as Turner Hall." He opened his arms and gestured.

"What a cold joke." He was amused and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm serious." He blinked.

...

"I don't want this kind of birthday gift!

!"

She closed her eyes, her thin shoulders trembled violently, tears flowed one after another, and drops fell on the music score on the ground.

Gradually, she squatted on the ground, sobbing breathlessly, picked up the "Six Sonatas and Suites for Unaccompanied Violin" again, and hugged it tightly in her arms.

"You asked me...why I just want to...play a few more violin concertos casually...I plan to wait for the premiere...I'll tell you after the premiere..."

"Because every time...you hug me gently during the curtain call..."