() The northeast corner of the forty overpasses in the east of Yanjing.

Poly Theatre.

The main concert hall of the Poly Theater welcomed a special group of people this afternoon.

Dressed in civilian clothes and carrying all sorts of bags, they walked in one after another through the back door of the concert hall.

But there are no performances scheduled in the theatre this afternoon.

At this time, the entire concert hall was filled with the magnificent chapter of Grieg's Piano Concerto in a minor key, the only one he had ever composed in his life.

On the stage, sitting in front of the piano, the girl performed affectionately.

No longer dressed in a black gown, her long, casually swaying hair was fluttering with the music.

Under the stage.

The old man sitting in the center of the audience was carefully watching the girl's every move on the stage.

After a while, a man in a black coat sat next to the old man.

"Dean Zhou, the orchestra has arrived. ”

"Thank you for your hard work," the old man said slowly, "Is the accommodation arranged?"

"Don't worry, it's all arranged. ”

"Okay," the old man nodded, "then pack up and get ready to begin, Boren has already contacted the theater, and someone will send a large percussion instrument soon." ”

As he spoke, the large wooden sliding door on the side of the stage was opened.

Three people slowly appeared carrying a set of timpani.

Another wide stage.

The principal bassoon of the Lesiby Symphony Ensemble is playing one heavy and clearer articulation note.

At this time, the rich chorus of the entire viola and cello parts serves as the foundation of the symphony, and the sounds of the three instrumental instruments are intertwined to sound exceptionally harmonious.

Suddenly.

The crisp and fast sound flow of the piano appeared, with a sense of anger.

At this moment, the volume of the bassoon is visibly suppressed, and the player's expression instantly becomes like the music itself, which is extremely ugly.

The music in this state lasted for about ten seconds.

“！！”

“！！”

With a grumpy voice coming from the podium.

Everyone stopped and looked at the podium

On the podium, the middle-aged conductor with brown hair frowned, looked at the young man in front of the piano again, and sighed softly.

Turning to the woman next to him, he whispered a few words.

Then.

The woman listened a little with her head bowed, but her expression gradually became a little embarrassed.

"What did he say?"

The boy at the piano apparently noticed this as well, "You say, it's okay. ”

"Uh, he asked if you didn't wake up, and then, um, asked if you were sick?"

The podium rattled again.

He said that if it really can't go on, then change the track. ”

The boy's hands on the keys suddenly erupted.

He turned his head to look at the middle-aged man in the audience.

After a long time.

His hand slumped and he sighed softly.

smiled slightly at the female translator who was still embarrassed, "No need, go on." ”

"I'm sorry for the mistake. As he spoke, he bowed his head towards the command.

Five minutes later.

A faint clarinet voice emerges slowly.

Under the swift bow of the stormy violin.

The young man's expression tightened slightly, and he suddenly raised his hand and fell in one place in the middle of the music of the clouds.

There is no perfect fusion of gaps in a second.

At this moment, on the podium, Nelson's eyes once again showed the excitement and ferocity of the beast discovering its delicious prey.

His arms became stronger.

The brilliance of Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 3 shines on every corner of the stage.

It's just that the middle-aged people in the audience haven't recovered from the glance of the young man.

It was difficult to calm down for a long time.

The camera cuts back to the National Centre for the Performing Arts. ‘

In the opera hall, the first trombone and the second trombone are sounded alternately, like the last baptism for the ancient warriors wearing armor and holding spears before going on battle.

The volume of the timpani grew stronger, like a black cloud of thunder that was hiding in the sky above the ancient battlefield.

A sharp piccolo appeared in the air.

"Whoa——————!!

"Is this the band fragment of Variation 24?"

Qin Jian swallowed, even though the skin of his mouth was already very dry.

With a 'grunt' in his throat, he subconsciously glanced at Xia Dong beside him.

The gaze could not be calm.

Twenty-three minutes passed.

From the first variation of the work to the last variation.

The whole orchestra performed this work as if it were a complete symphonic work without a lead piano.

And Qin Jian is not a pure appreciation, he has a complete set of music scores in his mind.

In some parts of the voice that need special attention, he pays close attention.

There is not a single place that has been overlooked by the orchestra.

Rigorous and meticulous.

What's even more unbelievable is -

After gently waving his hand at the principal violin twenty-three minutes ago, Xia Dong returned to his seat, crossed his legs and turned into a spectator.

Cheng has no command.

But the music is like a pair of big hands that perfectly present every detail of the composer's musical wisdom.

The work is great, of course.

While admiring Rachmaninoff's genius creation again, Qin Jian's admiration for the men around him has reached an incomprehensible level.

In fact, as one of the many orchestras in China, Qin Jian did not know that the reputation of the Yenching Philharmonic Orchestra was not as good as that of some local orchestras before Xia Dong took over as conductor.

Even in Yanjing, the most central place of Chinese cultural transmission, its position is very delicate

In Yanjing's small classical music circle, there are three national-level symphony orchestras alone

"Tate!!"

"Buzz!!"

"Boom!!"

"Boom!!"

In the bassoon, the French horn and the tuba, as well as the timpani and the last of the bowed strings!

Xia Dong stood up suddenly, pressed his hands, as if playing a piano in the air, and let out a "Bang!!"

All that left the hall was the orchestra with infinitely derived fifths of the same sound, rising higher and higher, gradually dissipating completely under the warm light.

Applause rang out, from Kobayashizel, "It's spectacular." ”

"You should have played this last blow just now. ”

Xia Dong turned around, glanced at Qin Jian with a smile, and waved his big hand on the stage, "Let's rest first." ”

"How do you feel after listening to it all?"

"It's amazing, I've never seen a symphony without a conductor. ”

"Thank you," Xia Dong waved his hand, and suddenly became serious, "I very much approve of your performance, and for my orchestra, you must have a good idea in your heart." ”

"I think now we can talk about the next step of the partnership. ”

"With me, every player I work with is the same, in any form. ”

"I have two thoughts right now. ”

"First, when the time comes, I'll raise the conductor and we'll finish the twenty-three minutes together. ”

"Second. ”

Xia Dong paused, and his little eyes suddenly flickered.

"On the day of your finals—"

"Remove the podium!"