And Chopin's days of playing the wind spectrum month

【frédérioischopin】

Even though the backstage lounge is far away from the stage where the official performance takes place, the noise from the concert hall still comes into the room from time to time.The hilarity in the distance contrasts with the silence here and makes the contrast even more stark.

Camille leaned against the lounge door, a lighted cigar in his hand.Sparks flickered on the cigarette butt, and tiny ash fell silently from his fingertips.The big businessman, who has never refused the temptation of cigars, turned a blind eye to it at the moment.The red light slowly ate away at the tobacco. He didn't care how much francs were spent on the cigar in his hand. All he cared about was the young Polish man sitting silently on the sofa in the lounge.

Frederick Chopin.

His friend and collaborator is also the protagonist of today's music concert.

From the first day he met the brown-haired Pole, Camille knew that his choice was not wise for a businessman.

He is more out of an inner preference, an appreciation of Chopin's musical talent.Camille could never have expected his friend to respond to Erard the way Liszt responded to Erard, a gifted pianist who was shy and introverted and would never initiate a concert unless absolutely necessary.

How miraculous—he could still hear his spokesman ask him for a music concert in his lifetime!

Camille finally remembered his cigar.Bringing it to his mouth, he picked it up and sucked in a big mouthful.

Heavenly Father, the overly shocked businessman even suspected that the soul of the friend in front of him had been changed—otherwise, how could Chopin, who has severe stage fright, take the initiative to hold a concert?

The astonishment brought to him by the young man was far more than that.There is no struggle and pain due to the concert, no fear and anxiety about going on stage, this is the most abnormal Chopin he has ever seen.The Poles seemed to be putting all their eggs in one basket, as if they were putting all their bets down to win one thing.

Camille looked up, and his eyes fell directly in front of him.His friend Chopin, the pianist who will be starring tonight, is sitting there.

The young man was dressed in an exquisite black dress, which made his tall and thin figure extraordinarily elegant.Carefully groomed brown hair swirls down, covering his eyebrows and eyes.His eyelids were lightly closed, covering those charming blue eyes, making the expression on his face even more indifferent.His hands were covered with a pair of white gloves, and his fingertips stood under his lips, as if he was quietly meditating.

No matter how you look at it, this is a gentle, handsome and young artist.

But who would have thought that it was such a young man who told him a week ago that he would hold a concert, and even set the time for him? After the concert hall and assistant performers were hired, this excessive man only gave him his repertoire the morning before the performance.

Camille looked resentfully at the young man who was both loved and hated.

This is the worst show promotion and preparation he has ever done - the kind that is almost ridiculed by the industry and used as a typical example - everything is so rushed, he almost didn't even have time to print the playlist... He really couldn't imagine what stimulated the pianist to force himself to stand on stage with such courage.

Chopin always hated playing in concert halls.

He couldn't bear too many crowds, and performing in public was a great torture for him... Camille actually saw that the young man sitting on the sofa was trembling - Chopin even vented his anxiety in advance No time for myself.

The businessman couldn't understand his friend's self-abuse behavior, so he could only quietly smoke his cigar.

There was a knock on the door of the lounge, and he saw the young man standing up slowly, smoothing out the tiny folds in his dress.

"Open the door, Camille, it's my turn."

Chopin's cold and calm voice almost knocked the cigar out of the businessman's hand.

From the moment the pianist stands up, he seems to be a completely different person.

It took a long time for the voices to stop.

Even when Aurora was about to start, she heard people in the private room next to them still discussing the haste of the concert that appeared out of thin air.Chopin does have extraordinary magic. Even though it looks like a temporary concert, there are quite a few people who come in to listen to it. If there is enough time, the seats in the Pleyel Concert Hall can definitely do it. There were no seats left.

The piano in the middle of the stage had already started playing, but the chatter downstairs gradually gathered.Aurora squeezed her dress tightly, the expression between her brows was not as expected as it was at first.The etiquette upbringing that still existed in her bones fixed her on the seat, no matter how bored she was, she would not complain like those people downstairs.

The girl's irritability has nothing to do with the performer, she is willing to listen to someone else's performance on the keyboard at any time - if that person is sincere enough.Concerts in the [-]th century were simply terrible: conversations that were harsher than coughing in a concert hall today, a bunch of vocal programs were said to be concerts, and most importantly, it had been more than an hour, Chopin's didn't even show up.

If he hadn't known in advance that the concerts of this era were like this, Aurora would almost have accused the great piano maker Mr. Pleyel of selling sheep in his own concert hall.Especially the pianist who appeared on the stage, it seems that he only practiced the piece at home for a week, and then he performed on stage.

Oh, dear Franz Liszt, why haven't you invented the recital yet - I really don't want to see these strange, uneven performances.

Chopin, when will there be Chopin!

Aurora rubbed her temples, and seeing the empty chairs around her, her boredom suddenly turned into melancholy.

The concert had already started, but François missed the appointment.

He has always regarded punctuality as a virtue, so it is extremely worrying to be so abnormal.

The little note has been seen countless times.Aurora picked up the small box on the table, and the delicate touch of flannel came from her fingertips.

She was about to open it when she found that the concert hall was instantly quiet.The surroundings were so quiet that even her breathing could be heard clearly, everything seemed to be enchanted with silence magic, as if the night had fallen, everything was still.

The brilliant sound of the piano rushed out in the silence, washing away all the traces on the beach like waves.

No, it can't be said to be strong, but it is too ear-catching, making people forget all the previous unpleasantness in an instant-this is the level that concerts should be, and this is the piano sound that should exist in Chopin's concerts.

Aurora closed her eyes, as if bathed in sunlight.She was lying on the beach, and the sea water came over, gently covering her feet, calves, and body.The magnificence and majesty in the sound of the piano seems to be covered with a soft filter, and the undulating tone is as sacred as the embrace of a god, but so close and warm.

Then, night fell.

The misty artistic conception is conforming to the rhythm of poetry, pouring out the inner world into the murmur of a sonnet.Whispers, intoxication, tears on the strings of the harp, crystals gathered on the tips of the blades of grass.

He recites only euphemistically, his mind hidden in the metaphors of the Psalms.You need to dig out the imagery, and you need to listen with your heart.Then follow him into a clear wind, flowing in the quiet and gentle night, wandering into a continuous heartbeat.

Aurora rushed to the terrace, the cold touch of marble permeated her heart through her skin, but it couldn't wake her up from the intoxication.The piano in the center was replaced, and she could only see the thin figure of the performer and the brown hair swaying with the body.

Liszt's horizontal piano on the stage has not yet become a model, and what pianists leave most to the audience is their backs.The girl remembered that the Hungarians did not intend to underestimate the mysterious Chopin—you know, just the back view and the sound of the piano touching the keys had already made her heart beat so unbalanced that it was as if she was indulging in Francois' kiss.She just felt sorry, if the piano was turned around... the sound she could hear would be even more shocking.

Oh, it can't be like this.

She is already intoxicated in this kind of performance, if there is any more, she will definitely get lost in his piano and refuse to come out.

Fortunately, fortunately, she met love long before she met Chopin - without Francois, she would definitely fall into an almost hopeless unrequited love.

"First Etude in C Major" and "Nocturne in E-flat Major", the first piece she played after she was able to play the piano again and the piece that saved her lost soul, were recreated by the composer himself, and the sense of happiness has been reduced. Let her go limp.

Aurora lay on the terrace with tears in her eyes, leaning against the sound of the pianist and listening to his heartbeat.

His expression is Chopin and not Chopin... But what is certain is that hidden in those crystal-like transparent timbres is a familiar heartbeat that cannot be expressed.

The chords sounded, and the aura that was about to find the answer was shattered.

The charming misty mist was blown away, and the fast-running sixteenth notes reconstructed the haze with the allegro.Even this kind of progress is endowed with exquisite melody by him, his showing skills are not exaggerated, and there is elegance and calmness in his enthusiasm.The lyrical middle plate is as soft as a song, full of romance.

Aurora seemed to understand that comment at the moment, Chopin's best melodies are always improvised.

She was almost overwhelmed by happiness—how could there be such a beautiful piano sound, how could there be such wonderful people, and how could there be such charming music in the world.

The sophistication in etudes, the tenderness in nocturnes, the fantasy in impromptu songs, the grief and indignation struggle and exquisite depth in ballads, the high-spiritedness in Polonaise... It is by no means the elegant Chopin described in words, he is Multifaceted and complex, gentle but never weak, his masculinity is almost all in his battle songs gathered with musical notes.

Extraordinary.

The piano poet, who doesn't like to perform, performed the entire second half heartily.No alternation, flawless enjoyment!

Aurora just hated why he didn't play the piano concerto so she could hear Chopin for a longer time.

"I finally understand why some women fainted and passed out at Franz's concert... It turned out to be true—this is how I am now..."

The girl clutched her chest and slumped on the seat. There was continuous applause outside, but she was so shocked by the grand music that she had difficulty breathing.

……

When Aurora really calmed down, everyone in the concert hall had already left, only the candlesticks were still dutifully shedding light.

She rubbed the small box, but Francois still didn't come - there was only a huge flower basket on his empty seat, which the girl was going to present to Chopin, and it seemed that he had missed the best time.

The small box was opened, and there was only a ring inside—and inserted into the ring was another rolled-up note.

She froze, took off the note, hesitated for a moment, and put the ring on the ring finger of her left hand.

"If I haven't shown up after the show... Go downstairs, Aurora, to the first row of auditoriums closest to the stage. I'll wait for you there."

Unable to understand François' intentions, Aurora chooses to follow his instructions.

Anyway, after meeting, he will explain everything to her properly.

It seems that because of the late time, the candelabra chandeliers are no longer as bright as when the concert opened.Aurora walked cautiously, carrying the basket of flowers, and walked forward in the dim light.

The crisp footsteps of the shoes on the steps of the seats echoed in the concert hall. For some reason, her heart began to beat faster and faster again.

Waltz.

The sound of the piano, which had long ceased to sound, started to sound again, and the girl who had just groped to the first row raised her head in amazement, and the pianist who had already left the stage appeared on the stage at this moment.

Dull heartache.

Surrounded by his piano sound at such a close distance, you can truly feel his delicate and affectionate.

The beat of the waltz, the simple but touching melody and chord accompaniment, are like two fallen leaves in the wind.They are obsessed with Xuanwu, wandering around without knowing their way back.Time seems to have ceased to exist, only him, the piano, and her listening to the piano are left in the world.

He asked questions with music, once was not enough, so he whispered a second time.

He is answering with music again, bright, hopeful, melancholy, beautiful, not wanting to end, but there will be a stop eventually.

The fallen leaves fell to the ground, falling into two halves that cuddled but separated.

Aurora saw a faint circle of metallic silver light on his raised left ring finger.

She watched her god turn around.

His facial features, his hair, his figure, his fingers...everything about him, slowly approaching, slowly confirming.

Chopin stepped down from the altar, only one step away from Aurora.

She opened her amber eyes wide, trying to see a possibility in all the impossibilities, but she was completely breathless by the familiar things emanating from him right in front of her eyes.

The most despicable dream turned out to be a reality that is not a fantasy.

It turned out that Francois could play the piano better than anyone else. He could play almost the first note, which made her wish to give her heart.

"pi, pi... cho..."

"Pippixiao? Aurora, it's 'chopin'."

"Xiao, Xiao—"

"Frédéric François Chopin. As I said, 'Chopin' will definitely play to you the piece you like."

Aurora felt that her ears were like when a steam train whistled, and a stream of smoke came out with a bang.But the heat didn't dissipate completely, and her skin color became more and more reddened, and gathered in her body into surging magma.

silence.dizzy.trembling.Heart rate imbalance.Difficulty breathing.

It was impossible to distinguish the emotions that almost broke through the top of her head—Chopin was François. The shock brought to her was like an earthquake followed by a tsunami, shock, surprise, fear, anger, shyness... She blushed and picked up the words on the ground. A huge flower basket excitedly threw it at the strange yet familiar face of the god.

"Liar... bastard!"