Chapter 7: The Chord of Death (Part I)

Night, which we humans fear, is also a time of love, for most people "the night life has just begun, no one will want to go to bed"

However, human beings are often the most afraid of the night, I don't know why there is a night, how many people, lost in the night, how many people can't find the meaning of their existence in the night. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

Some people are lost in the night, they are lonely, they are lonely, they wander alone, they can't find the intersection where they came.

Always...... Always...... Waft.

――――

In the city, in the bustling area

In the Xiujing Stage Drama Club of the famous academy, the erhu plays a melodious, high, and infinitely close to the vocal music.

A figure appeared on the huge stage, one was emaciated, and his back looked slightly hunched.

"He" turned his back to the audience, and the erhu movement played by "he" filled the entire stage drama club with a sad, sad and painful atmosphere.

It's definitely sad to smell and cry.

However, the huge stage drama club emits a faint smell of decay.

"Tick"

The sound of dripping water is very obvious in the stage drama club.

"Tick"

"Tick"

The sound of dripping water became more and more obvious, and the sound of erhu stopped, but the aftermath kept echoing in the stage drama club, and the sound of dripping water was also extremely harsh.

The smell of decay is getting stronger and stronger, and the sound of dripping water is getting stronger and stronger, and the smell of decay turns into a thick and pungent smell of rancidity.

His body, with his back to the audience, slowly melted like a burning candle, until finally, turning into a puddle of oil and water, leaving only his head to fall to the ground.

On the way to roll his head, he faced the audience, and at this time, he could barely see that "he" was wearing black disc sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and a felt hat on his head, looking very lonely and in pain.

――――――

A new day is coming again, Wang Yi, Xu Qian, and Jiang Guo are back in the classroom, and the three of them sit together, listening to the classmates on the left and right talking about vulgar and pornographic jokes, and watching the classmates in front of them show their affection without a lower limit.

Looking back at the classmates who were reading quietly, at this moment, the three of them were very quiet in their hearts, they had experienced things that ordinary people could not experience in their lives, and they felt the obscurity of this world, and the three of them also had a little more indifference in their hearts.

"Something's wrong, there's an accident" A classmate came to the classroom in a panic, out of breath, and quickly said in the puzzled eyes of everyone: "The drama club is haunted, and a ...... was found in the drama club this morning Not counting the corpse of the corpse, the corpse's body disappeared, leaving only a puddle of oil and water, and a human head"

After the classmate finished speaking, there was an uproar in the classroom.

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm from the drama club, and there have been several times when we rehearsed late at night, and when we packed up our things and left, we could hear the sound of erhu and singing, but the president and the school didn't let me publicize it, so not many people knew."

Wang Yi and Xu Qian's hearts burst out.

In the middle of the night, a "corpse" with no body, only a puddle of oil and water, and a head was found

There are also erhu and singing...... This is definitely not a simple incident

"Hehe, the three of us are already soul file recorders, this kind of evil thing is also within the scope of our work, or let's take a look"

Xu Qian pulled Wang Yi and Guozi, Guozi didn't pay attention to Xu Qian, Xu Qian looked at Wang Yi with a look of impatience on her face.

Wang Yi glanced at Jiang Guo, who was looking at a thick book, and said, "Guozi, why don't we go and take a look."

Jiang Guo continued to look at the "Centennial Archive Record of the Recorder of the Ninth District" in his hand

This book is Jiang Guo like Hou Ye wants to come, in the ninth district of the recorder, the archivist Jian Wunian has happened for hundreds of years, Jiang Guo doesn't know why, he always wants to fully understand the Wu Nian.

"Fruit, you have something to say, you are so fascinated by it"

Xu Qian waved her hand in front of Jiang Guo's eyes and said.

Wang Yi thought for a while and said, "Don't make trouble!" Although we are now the same as Bound Wunian, but we don't have weapons to deal with ghosts like Binding Wunian, we can only see some ghosts that are not high-level, in case we can't defeat your ghost, then we will be the one who suffers."

Xu Qian pouted, so she had to give it up.

The fruit on the side slowly closed the book and said, "Let's go and join in the fun."

Xu Qian's eyes lit up, but Wang Yi frowned, and said, "But our current ability, I'm afraid something will go wrong."

Jiang Guo smiled. said: "I just saw from the "Centennial Archive Record of the Ninth District Archivist" that Jian Wunian also encountered this kind of thing back then, and it was the same as what the classmate said just now, erhu sound, singing, no body, only a head"

Wang Yi was stunned, glanced at Jiang Guo, and said, "Guozi, why are you suddenly so interested in binding Wunian?"

Jiang Guo smiled: "Learn more, it's beneficial"

To be honest, Jiang Guo himself didn't know why he was so interested in Binding Wunian.

Late at night -

Jiang Guo and the three of them came to the stage drama club and gently pushed open the half-hidden door of the drama club.

The three of them sat quietly in the last row of the drama club, the three of them were obviously still a little nervous, quietly, and did not speak, as the time gradually passed, the hour hand pointed to twelve o'clock

"Hmm"

The sound of the erhu sounded, and a song full of sadness and pain resounded in the huge drama club.

Those who hear are sad, and those who see are in tears.

The lights on the stage suddenly lit up, and the gloomy figure still had his back to the audience, and the sad song seemed to flow.

The song gradually slows down and melodious, and the three of them also recall the sad past in their hearts, the music gradually rises, and the hearts of the three of them gradually become enthusiastic, the prelude is like a sad old man in the twilight, and the music is stirred up in the back, just like the pain of being seriously ill and disabled.

"It's ...... What a tune."

Xu Qian said with some emotion

"This is Erquan Yingyue, which is the Erquan Yingyue in the 20s when a famous musician cut Ah Bing's multiple compositions into a song"

A familiar voice came, the door of the drama club was gently pushed open, Jian Wunian walked in with a large plate of grapes, sat next to Jiang Guo at will, stretched out his hand to stuff a grape into Jiang Guo's mouth, and stuffed one himself, and said: "A Bing, born in 1893, formerly known as Hua Yanjun, a native of Wuxi, Suzhou, is a Taoist priest, he studied Taoist music hard, Jingyi sought refinement, and widely absorbed folk music, and created more than 270 folk music in his life, his father was a Taoist priest in Wuxi City Sanqing Temple, and Lei Zundian Taoist priest"

Jian Wunian forced a grape into Jiang Guo's mouth and said: "When I was 20 years old, my father died, and he succeeded him as a Taoist priest in Lei Zundian, and later because of careless friends, he went to the Qinglou to get a young lady who was infected with drugs and lost his sight in one eye."

The three of them remembered the story they had learned about Ah Bing with them

At the age of 34, he lost his sight in both eyes. In order to make a living, he carried an erhu, took to the streets, wrote and sang by himself, rapped news, and became a street performer. At the age of 40, he lived with his widow and brother. Every afternoon, he sings in the paddock in front of the Sanwanchang Teahouse in Chong'an Temple. He dared to cut to the point and attack the darkness of society

After losing his sight, Ah Bing's fate was determined in the moment when it was pitch black in front of his eyes, and he had no room for struggle, and all the strength in his body was exhausted.

He began to embark on the end of the street art and begging for a living. He blended into the ranks of the most tragic fate among ordinary Chinese people. The beggar's perennial identity is a straw rope, tattered shoes, a scrawny hand waiting for handouts, a blackened hand, and a slightly rickety shoulders that resign themselves to fate, the silence of hunger and cold, the stares or insults of the people, and the sordid appearance - some of which may be a dramatic disguise - forced to make a living, but Ah Bing has no such trivial disguise. Under the care of his wife Dong Cuidi, he still wears the only decent clothes in the family as much as possible when he goes out every day, although most of them are worn, they are all sewn and washed. His hands are always cleaner than other beggars, after all, he is a performer, and he is still the most skilled artist in Wuxi City. He officially used the stage name "Blind Ah Bing" - "inspiration" came from the street. The stage name was approved by him, which illustrates his unsavory attitude towards his own situation, and there is also some self-mockery in it, and a hard-boned sense of humor.

At this time, Ah Bing had already transcended life and entered the sublime realm of death. He silently gave up part of the noise and lust of life and prepared for his own death. The last twenty years of his life gave people such a sense of tranquility and calmness, while the more than 50 years of his life gave people two completely different feelings: violent and quiet, hot and indifferent. In the middle seven or eight years, it happened to be his eyes, which were blind one after another, one right and one left, as the painful and striking line. All the gains and losses of the earthly world, good and evil, and conflicts of interest have disappeared forever with the sudden retreat of the light world, and what remains is a colorless, desireless, eternal night. This eternal darkness gradually gave the rustic child a new and strange power. Now, he relied on this sober and lonely power, rock-solid to support his crippled body to live in the market, to live! Year after year, the cuckoo weeps of the soul of one of the most astonishing exiles in the history of human music continues.

Every song he sings in exchange for his daily food, but more than he gains is the heart of a singer who still beats tenaciously under the oppression of a deformed society. He never succumbed to his fate, even in the misadventures of losing his sight. He belongs to one of the few people in the human race who truly believes in and ultimately sees the dawn of God. Few people can comprehend and learn the rare poetic lesson of death in life, but Ah Bing has learned it! As he walked through the stormy course of his life, he endured the most bizarre and extraordinary pain that all human beings could endure, and this pain condensed into a realm in his heart or soul that no one else could surpass, and in this supernormal realm, death slowly became a chord between his fingers, a song of pure beauty, which reached into the sky and lingered above the illusory nine heavens. The storm has passed, leaving the world with a clear and green world after the rain. In his blind eyes, Ah Bing regained his youthful mood and the world of a chaotic happy boy who never knew the weight of life's gains and losses

The music stopped, Ah Bing turned around and bowed deeply to Jian Wunian, and Ah Bing, who was wearing disc sunglasses and a felt hat, and had a haggard face, also turned into a little starlight and dissipated.