Old-time musicians

Dawn has completely arrived on the premiere day of July 20.

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

Along with it came two inspectors of the second level of the Special Patrol Office, seven senior investigators, and the spiritual wall that was packed with people.

The third time he patted his shoulder and said hello like this?

A simple number in He Meng's words made Fan Ning basically understand the real progress of the current situation.

Surrounded by the eyes of the crowd, Fan Ning slowly turned around and walked back from the window to the desk where Norma Gon was sitting.

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

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

"Are you sure you don't want to listen to the performance? 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 little boiled water.

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

Fanning looked around the indoor display, then closed his eyes and opened them again, shook his head and smiled coldly:

"Then, please, everyone."

At 5:40 in the morning, the corridor was only lit with dim security lights, and Fanning walked on the red carpet.

He passed by Sheeran's exclusive guest room next door, but did not turn his head or slow down his pace.

He continued to move forward without looking sideways.

The figures and footsteps behind him were like ghosts, and the dense spiritual barriers followed him like a shadow.

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

Including five fakes, including another four originals that the Special Patrol Office also doubted. The real works are still in the cloakroom, but in fact it doesn't matter if they are handed over to the Special Patrol Office. The initiative of sublimation is in his own hands.

The investigator next to him took over 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 with exquisite picture albums moved out of thin air.

Going around in circles will not change the result. On the contrary, violent search or fighting will destroy this art palace and threaten the life and safety of your companions.

Salman sighed: "It's a good isolation secret ritual. If it is completely aimless, it is indeed difficult to pay attention. If it is not for the re-examination of various clues and the various key revelations of the "disaster", we really thought that the secret of the Turner Art Museum has ended before."

"After you took out the "Pain Room", you sublimated into this back, right?" He Meng's silver cane tapped on the wall: "Familiarity... strangeness... I am curious how you disguised yourself as Vasis and were not discovered. So, how true is your report to the leader at the meeting?"

"Can lying hide his mysterious knowledge?" Fanning shook his head and chuckled, "Of course, what I said are all guesses that I think are true. Whether it is right or wrong, you have to judge it yourself."

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

"Commander Fanning, you are more familiar with it." He made a gesture of invitation.

"There is no need to find such a reason to force someone to open the way. Without you guys accompanying me, do you think I dare to go down?"

Fanning asked calmly, but he did not refuse to cooperate unnecessarily. He stretched out his hand and stepped forward, squeezing through the sticky wax layer.

On the top of the black stone brick road, gems and minerals shone with heterogeneous glimmers, the ritual vessel "consecration curtain" hung quietly above, and the witness symbol of the "tower caster" was flowing with electric light.

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

Fanning squatted by the well and saw Gang's black figure slowly condensing beside him.

When she found that there was a bottomless well behind the secret door and smelled the unpleasant stench, she frowned and understood Fanning's intention to arrange this secret ceremony.

Then he turned around and said to Salman, the third person who squeezed into the wall and climbed up, "You go down first."

"Okay, Miss Gang." Salman received the order and entered the well with the other six investigators, grabbing the handrails on the wall.

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

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

It seemed like yesterday's experience was replayed, but there were no longer two companions to rely on, but nine enemies, seven in front and two in the back, surrounding him in the middle.

After Fanning climbed down about 30 meters, he found a strange abnormal point.

"Why does the handrail on the well wall always feel slippery this time?"

He continued to go down, and his palm touched the stone bricks on the well wall several times without making a sound, and then found that these stone bricks were actually covered with cracks of various sizes, and still had a slippery feeling.

Obviously, the stone bricks felt tight, smooth and smooth when I explored it before.

Could it be that something strange happened or is happening under the museum?

Fanning secretly kept a watchful eye.

"Do you know the whereabouts of the wreckage of the Old Days?" Norma Gang was clearly more than a meter above him, but her cold voice seemed to be coming from his 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.

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

He Meng, who had been secretly trying to figure out his words and deeds, was accustomed to it and did not notice it. Since Vincent built an art gallery here to cover up after coming out of the abnormal area, he must have needed 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 had not 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 and temporarily no fierce conflict time, 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 its 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 ruins of the "Grand Court School". After all, in their opinion, the purpose of pretending to be Vassius and going to the sealed room was to steal "The Room of Pain", which was completely consistent with the report on the "Gate of Seven Lights" at the Lianmeng Conference.

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

But the advent of "Symphony No. 2" is an irreversible fact. The nature and mission of the discussion group are destined 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 that should be left. At that moment, he felt an unprecedented relief.

I spent this time with a respectful, focused and restrained attitude. I did not let down art, did not let down anyone's heart, and did not have to consider any influence other than myself.

The several "opportunities to get out" left by my father Vincent are my greatest reliance. The invisible power of the three levels of profound understanding is a huge threat to He Meng and Gang, but can it seriously injure or even kill them? Fanning felt it was hard to say. This was different from Vincent's unlimited personal action. The biggest advantage was that they might not have expected this. He was just a ninth-level knowledgeable person who was fundamentally different from the Profound One. Facing seven high-level investigators, he was already overwhelmed.

Now going deep into this place, the unknown environment was also a huge threat. If he defeated the enemy but could not escape, it would be in vain. He should first observe their movements and intentions and not act rashly.

And if he took action, he had to burst out at once and catch them off guard. He killed all those who could be killed and defeated those who could be defeated as much as possible.

Fanning, 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 was sitting on the sofa in front of the French window in the room, staring out the window in a daze.

This was indeed 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 tray 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, he had developed a habit of working and sleeping. 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 was "Choral Teaching and Conducting", which is the "Carroll 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"

Further down are...

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

Sheeran's white and thin arms were trembling 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 Unaccompanied Violin" with both hands.

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

The sonatas and suites seemed to be arranged alternately, and the stop here was the 4th, that is, Suite No. 2.

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

I didn't have the heart to look at the notes above.

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 foreign colors of light 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 music scores, records or theoretical teaching materials that I have published or created, are all permanently and free of charge to Miss Hiran Conner, as evidenced by the handwriting. Carolyn Van Nin."

"Bang!!"

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

She felt like the sky was falling.

Yesterday... what he said yesterday...

...

"Old works are okay? You have a really small appetite."

"Did you have a big idea in your mind?"

"Very big."

"How big?"

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

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

"I'm serious." He blinked.

...

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

She closed her eyes, her thin shoulders trembled violently, tears poured out one after another, dripping 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 take your bow...you will hug me gently..."