Blade and Poetry

Although the injuries suffered in Yuzhen will disappear the moment we return to reality, the mental exhaustion cannot be erased after all.After leaving the small door, we were arranged to rest in various rooms in the castle, and we would not rush to gather in the well-arranged banquet hall until dinner.

I soaked in the hot bath for half a day in the big bathtub in the room, held my breath and buried my nose under the foam, stretched my limbs in the water, and felt my whole body became lazy.There was still some time before dinner, and I didn't think about disturbing Odd, so I put on my black uniform jacket and went out, slowly walking down the corridor.

The castle that houses "Yuzhen" is actually huge.I wandered around taking advantage of the lack of people around - but there was really nothing to see, and the doors along the way were closed, and there was no way of knowing whether they were just an ordinary room behind them, or just another one to be revealed. secret.I was thinking about changing the way altogether, so I walked quickly towards the banquet hall, only to hear the sound of music coming from a certain door I just passed.I immediately turned back and stopped in front of the closed door with my head down to listen.

It was like a folk-style ditty, and the main theme was not complicated. Perhaps an instrument with a light and gentle sound like the accordion could better interpret its connotation, but this player was using a piano.It's not inappropriate at all - it's just that this person's playing adds an indescribable flavor to this piece.I'd like to say it's full of melancholy, but feel that generalization falls far short of it.It's lighter than a note that can actually land on a human ear, but it's more tightly wound, and I can see it through this door as it's tied to each key, as the paint turns black or white. The wooden blocks are pressed down lightly, and they are released in turn, rising and dissipating together with the ending sound.

The player seemed to be playing the first four bars over and over.I probably listened to it four or five times before I heard what came next.

The tune that followed seemed much more complicated, but the man didn't stop for a moment because of it, and the uninterrupted notes jumped out smoothly under his hand.I don't really have any exact feelings about this performance, except that it has become more orthodox—maybe when someone comes to a domed concert hall, all he can expect is this gorgeous and cloudy music.

But this time the playing stopped abruptly halfway through.The last note was a little bit heavier, as if the person stopped working temporarily by throwing his hands away.

If it is indeed the same as my guess, then this behavior is very childish.But I didn't have the urge to smile, I just stopped in front of the long silent door in a daze.I let my eyes wander aimlessly over the door for a moment before realizing that waiting for that elusive continuation was unnecessary.However, just as I was about to leave, the door creaked without warning and was pushed open from the inside.

There was no light in the door opening, probably because all the light switches inside had been turned off.A person came out from inside, his back was still half sunk in the darkness, and his face was faintly visible under the wall lamp in the corridor.

—It was Karajan.

He met my gaze directly, but he seemed to have forgotten to say hello to me, just staring at me intently, without smiling or making any special moves.

We stood on both sides of the door, and I only had his eyes in my eyes.Their dark black pupils are so distinct from the surrounding light blue circle, as if they were firmly locked, separated and solidified on both sides.Everything turned still there, only a faint light rippling on it.

I think I must have looked as dazed as he was now.Behind his unretracted expression, I seemed to see some kind of slight panic that broke free.

That kind of fear was not directly aimed at me, and I naturally understood it—it was like the emotion left on a pale face after embracing driftwood by chance in the big waves, which was absolutely different from fear.

"Vicente?" I suddenly heard him calling me.Everything that flashed in the past few seconds is like an illusion, only under this light is the most real.

He said good evening to me.

"You passed by here?" Karajan said again, as if studying my expression with interest.

Only then did I fully wake up, and I hesitated twice with a hot face.

"I heard someone playing the piano inside. It's very smooth..." I subconsciously suppressed my impressions of the first few bars that were repeatedly played.But the second half of the song seemed empty compared to the former, and I couldn't find any adjectives for a while, so I said, "...it's very nice."

He didn't take my momentary lack of vocabulary as disobedience, but smiled instead.

"Does it sound good? It doesn't play very carefully," he said. "I can play it to you anytime you want."

He blinked again, "Except when I can't."

I was very much looking forward to hearing that player play another piece-preferably to pick up the broken half.I had long since given up hope, but he rekindled the idea.All my doubts and confusion were temporarily swept away by the joy at this moment.

"Do I have the honor?"

"Of course you have," he said. "There are still more than 20 minutes before the dinner party begins."

I followed him through the door.The space inside the door is unexpectedly large, similar to a studio that can hold hundreds of spectators.The stage was directly in front of it, with the piano at about [-]

We walked all the way down in the dark, and the wooden door creaked shut behind us.My eyes have not yet adapted to the sudden darkness, and I rely on the soles of my feet and the faint movements of Karajan around me to judge where I am staying.He seemed to be aware of this and walked very slowly.

The sound of our footsteps was sucked in by the thick carpet.I focused on identifying the path, but still accidentally tripped over the steps.Karajan moved a little closer; I had hoped not to notice the slight sound, but he stopped.I couldn't see his expression clearly in the dark, I could only feel his hand gently resting on my shoulder when I walked towards him.

This time there were no more ceremonial requests.We walked down this seemingly endless staircase side by side, and we kept silent at the same time.I can still feel his hands through the shirt; there's some warmth, but not too much.

I feel stiff all over at one moment, but feel extremely ironed at the other moment.

When I got closer, I realized that there was indeed a shiny grand piano in the corner of the stage.Karajan only turned on a small light, and I stood behind him to watch him start playing.

That was indeed much better than what I had heard through the door before.The contrast is so strong that it is like a person with empty eyes being suddenly injected with soul.Notes flowed out from under his fingers like spring water, it seemed to be extremely joyous, turning and dancing tirelessly up and down; it also seemed to be mixed with melancholy and whispering, occasionally confined to a sinking syllable, but eventually floating to sweetness.Lingering but not intimacy, crazy but not deviant.

Only then can I hear that this piece of music should be affectionate.

Although I didn't hear the four bars that he played repeatedly... maybe I guessed wrong before, they don't belong to the same song.

At some point, Karajan stopped.This time the song is complete - he asked me: "How is it?"

"Very good," I said, "I don't know how to describe..."

He was still sitting on the piano bench, looking at me deeply, and the light from the only small lamp fell on the bottom of his eyes and deep in his smile.I think I will never meet such a pair of gentle eyes again.Even if I may walk many years in this world and meet many other people, nothing will touch me as much as they do now.