Tightening the notebook in her hand, the girl turned around again.

Walk towards the agreed location.

‘Fuge。 ’

It is a genre of polyphonic music that flourished during the Baroque period.

It can also be used as a tavern shop name.

It's a bit deserted in front of the fuge tavern today.

Qin Jian crossed the road, and as soon as he approached the door of the store, he heard a quiet sound coming from inside-

"Scarlatti?Sonata in B minor?"

Stopped, looked up and looked at the door number above his head again, the four letters of fuge seemed to be cast by music, exuding some kind of magic, people couldn't help but step in to find out.

Inside, a one-man tall oil painting hangs on the wall on the left.

"The Three Goddesses of Grace?"

Qin Jian is not an art lover, but he happened to come across this oil painting in a book about the art style of the Baroque period.

The three female bare backs representing charming, elegant and beautiful women were enough to attract Qin Jian's attention both in the past and now.

"That's art. ”

Passing through a short corridor is the hall

Not a lot of space.

There were no charming women of all kinds, no glasses of colour, not even a cold smell of oak barrels in the air.

The entire ground seems to be paved with gray rocks, which gives people a sense of gloom under the cold light.

A group of young people were sitting around the bar in the center, surrounded by a few tables of strangers.

On the backmost stage, there is a matte brown piano, and behind the piano sits a man with a beard.

The man's hands touching the keys were very gentle, like caressing the cheeks of a lover.

Qin Jian has a hard time associating this raunchy man with the work of one of the most elusive composers of the eighteenth century.

But this is undoubtedly the best depiction Qin Jian has ever heard, a unique joke about Scarlatti's legacy in the world.

Surprising, yet full of uncertainties.

After looking around, Qin Jian came to a two-person table against the wall and sat down.

From this angle, you can see the stage in its entirety.

"What do you need, sir?"

A waiter approached, his voice soft.

"A glass of iced Americano, thank you. ”

Qin Jian's voice was also very soft, and his gaze never left the figure on the stage.

Under the spotlight, there is also a cello on the stage, as well as a flute inserted in a triangular stand, which exudes a silvery sheen.

The stage is entirely configured by a trio of flute chamber music, but at this time there is only one figure.

The lonely sound of the piano.

Qin Jian sighed softly.

Gradually, the number of people in the tavern gradually increased.

It's just that everyone who came in subconsciously slowed down their pace and became soft-spoken.

Until the man on the stage stopped sliding his fingers.

There was a gentle applause in the corner of the audience, and Qin Jian also applauded gently.

The man got up and picked up the bottle at his feet, walked slowly off the stage, sat down casually on an empty table, and drank the wine in the bottle.

At this time, the atmosphere of the entire hall relaxed.

Someone even invited him to do another song in a small voice, but he ignored it, just raised the bottle in his hand in the direction of the bar.

Soon a waiter brought a bottle of wine to his table.

The sound of laughter and talk gradually spread.

The atmosphere in the tavern is getting higher and higher.

Occasionally, people will take to the stage to show off their skills, from Beethoven's to Alice to Bach's preludes.

And no matter what your craft is, there's always applause and praise.

However, the rest of the time there will be a fixed person who will come up from the backstage to play, and it should belong to the pianist in the tavern.

"It's a nice place, it's like a real gathering place for classical music lovers, except it's a bit expensive. ”

In such an environment, just sitting in a corner and holding a cup of coffee for 88 yuan that exudes cold air is enough to make people feel very comfortable.

An hour passed, and the music in my ears never stopped.

Qin Jian sat comfortably, his eyes wandering between the stage and the crowd, and gradually fell into some kind of thought.

As an important musical theme of the Baroque period, fuge represents rigor, balance, and order.

In such a space with the name of fu***, it is like a solid but not heavy island.

People seem to be balancing music with wine, or faith with other in an orderly way.

A pure moment of seclusion and truth, not only wine, but also music.

Sitting in such an oriental time listening to the West is like an endless exotic journey in itself, like an echo on a pin, whirling for a long time, and all the troubles can be left behind.

Music, while provoking thought, often points to philosophy.

Qin Jian seemed to feel some kind of guidance, and his heart couldn't calm down for a long time...

......

Long.

Qin Jian returned to the Americano in front of him, and the noise in his ears became clear again.

Raising his head in confusion, a seat was once again vacated in front of the piano on the stage.

Stare at the piano for a moment.

Qin Jian gently put down the cup in his hand, as if driven by some idea in his mind, got up and slowly walked to the stage.

The hall gradually fell silent, and someone applauded softly, and everyone was more enthusiastic about this kind of stranger who spontaneously came on stage than the resident pianist.

Most of the eyes were on the stage, except for a few people, such as the man holding the bottle and the girl at the same table as her, plus a bartender.

The bartender was intently mixing the drinks for the guests, appearing attentive, while the man and girl were not affected by the atmosphere around them, and remained immersed in their own conversations.

"Teacher, do you mean that the competition will start as soon as the opening ceremony is over?"

The man nodded, took another sip of wine, "Is the song for the first round set?" The clear words that did not fit the image at all sounded half drunk.

"Hmm. "The girl's voice is a little cold," a sonata in F minor. ”

The man didn't seem to hear the girl's words, and gradually turned his head and looked in the direction of the stage.

Qin Jian didn't choose any of the tracks he was proficient in, not because he was worried that he would miss one of his cards in this sensitive time-sensitive place.

It's just the idea of playing a fuge, or the brain telling him, 'You should play a fugue, even if it's just the simplest one.' ’

Qin Jian chose a small song that belonged to his childhood.

A little reminiscence.

With his memory, Qin Jian's left hand roamed over the keyboard, and a single melody floated to the top of the entire hall.

It's a very simple little melody.

Looking at the self-absorbed expressions of the performers on stage, the crowd did not think that it was not a good performance because of a few mistones or disconnects

"This big brother seems to have played the wrong game. ”

For a child's voice in the audience, everyone just smiled lightly

One melody has not yet ended, but another similar melody quietly flows softly.

Qin Jian's left hand joined in at a certain moment.

It's obviously a piece of music, but at this time, it looks like two people are talking at the same time.

Caught up in something mysterious, exquisite.

The two hands are staggered left and right, no flickering flow, no gorgeous sentimentality, the simplest phrases, the most mediocre melodies.

Overlapping each other, forever maintaining a trace of space.

"I see. ”

At the end of the song, Qin Jian opened his eyes, and a flash of surprise flashed between the constriction of his pupils.

A credible starting point seems to have been found for a question left by Bach.

The audience burst into applause.

Qin Jian stood up, bowing with his usual Qin Jian-style smile.

...

Offstage.

"Acquaintance?"

The man turned his head and saw that the girl's locked gaze was still on the stage.

The girl withdrew her gaze and shook her head, but her mind was still remembering the white bandaged left hand.

"Zippoli's little fugue, this piece was written in the exam tutorial when I was in the academy. ”

The girl continued, "Level two." ”

"Ninety-five percent of your generation have played this one. ”

The man paused, then took another sip.

"He's the worst I've ever seen. ”

The girl smiled.

"Who plays the best?"

The man pondered for a moment.

"It's still him. ”