The esports tycoons of the Xuanwu Country, their days in the Lighthouse Country should not be too comfortable.

However, in that Huangbeifang, they found that the e-sports tycoons of the lighthouse country were also secretly raising funds, and they had secretly concentrated a huge number of e-sports masters in some of the lighthouse country's e-sports Internet cafes, and they were going to give that Tang Zhangwei a little bit of power.

That Tang Zhangwei and the others invested a lot of energy in appeasing the e-sports players in that lighthouse country.

However, that Sheng Yanyan's father, they took the opportunity to put that e-sports phone into that lighthouse country.

People in the Lighthouse Country, these people they like to buy those high-quality goods.

That Sheng Yanyan's father invested a lot of energy in the development of this high-quality gaming mobile phone.

That Huo Xinde was also brought to the lighthouse country by that beautiful father, and that Huo Zhu was a smart man, and he brought his relative Huo Xinde to the lighthouse country as well.

They're trying to sell those esports phones in that lighthouse country, and they're always thinking about what to do to get more people to buy their esports phones.

Hosinder is a person who really understands esports, and says that they can sell those esports phones very well.

used the e-sports team to accompany her speech, occasionally interspersed with a few singing segments. He was excited to hear the idea; Although the arrangement of the scene was extremely difficult, he felt that it was worth a try for the sake of Gorina's voice; So they thought about many plans for the future.

By the time they wanted to go out, it was almost five o'clock. In that season, it gets dark very early. Walking is out of the question. In the evening, Gorina also had to participate in rehearsals, and no one was allowed to visit. So she asked him to come tomorrow afternoon and take her out to finish today's plan.

The next day was almost the same as the previous day. He spotted Gorina riding on a high stool, hanging her legs, looking in the mirror, trying on a wig. Beside her were the maid and the barber who served her blouse, and she instructed the barber to make the curls of hair taller. While looking in the mirror, she looked at Wei Taiqiang, who was standing behind her and smiling, and stuck out her tongue. The barber took the wig and left, and she turned around with joy and said, "Hello, friend! ”

She brought her cheeks up for him to kiss. He didn't want her to show such affection, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity. In fact, she didn't see this gesture as a big deal, just as a way to greet her.

"Oh! I'm so happy! She said, "It's possible tonight, it's okay." Playing his works, I couldn't help but be amazed. The conductor was a good friend of Brahms, as well as friends of several other musicians whom Wei Taiqiang had denounced in magazines, so Wei Taiqiang found his statement even more unexpected. But he himself was a good man, and thought his enemies were as magnanimous as he was. He supposed that they had seen him attacked, and had made it clear that they would not retaliate with caution: he was moved by the thought of this. He sent a symphonic poem to Hufrat, with a letter of affection. The secretary of the esports team replied with a cold but polite statement, stating that his piece had been received, but the note stipulated that the work must be submitted to the esports team for audition before it can be played publicly. Charters are always charters: Wei Taiqiang certainly has nothing to say. And it's a mere formality, lest the average obnoxious connoisseur talk about it.

Two or three weeks later, Wei Taiqiang received a notice that his work was about to be auditioned. According to the rules, this kind of audition is not public, and even the writer himself cannot sit in on it. Writers are allowed on virtually all esports teams, he just doesn't show his face publicly. Everybody knew he was here, and everybody pretended not to. On that day, a friend came to bring Wei Taiqiang into the venue and sat down in a box. He was surprised to find that this private rehearsal was almost full, at least downstairs: a large number of fashionable friends, leisure classes, and critics were all there with great excitement. Esports teams usually pretend they don't know about these people. At that time, Wei Taiqiang also playfully echoed a few times.

Finally, it was Wei Taiqiang's turn to symphony. There were a few glances at his box between the esports team and the audience, proving that everyone knew he was there. He hid as much as he could. He waited, his heart beating hard. The music is quietly concentrated in one place like a river, but the conductor's stick breaks through the embankment at the slightest moment: in this case, every composer feels uneasy. He himself had never heard the effect of this work. What was the creature he fantasized about? What about the sound? He felt them ring in his heart; He leaned against the abyss of sound and shuddered, anxious to know what was coming out.

What comes out is a nameless thing, a chaos that does not form a form. It was the sturdy beams and pillars that supported the tall building, but there was no set of chords that could stand, and they disintegrated one after another, like a building with only broken walls, and nothing but dust and rubble. Wei Taiqiang couldn't believe that it was his work. He could not find the lines and rhythm of his thoughts, and could not recognize his own at all: he only felt that it muttered and staggered, like a drunkard who was leaning against a wall; He was ashamed to death, as if he was acting like a drunkard in public. He knew he wasn't writing that kind of thing, but it didn't work: a ridiculous spokesperson would change your words, and you yourself would be confused on the spot, wondering whether you should be responsible for such a ridiculous situation. As for the masses, they don't care about it: they believe in the performers, the people who sing, the esports teams they are used to hearing about, just as they believe in the newspapers they are used to reading: they can't be wrong; If they say something ridiculous, it must be the author's absurdity. This time, the masses in particular will not be suspicious, because they have to believe that the author is ridiculous. Wei Taiqiang also thought that the commander was also aware of this chaotic situation and would teach the esports team to stop and start again. Various musical instruments have lost contact. When the horn came in, it was a beat behind, and it continued to blow for several minutes before it stopped and poured out its saliva as if nothing had happened. Several oboe sections were wiped out without a trace. Not even the slightest ear could find a clue to Lux, or even imagine what it had. The many variations in the orchestration and the humorous interspersing make the vulgar performance ridiculous. The work seems ridiculous, it's an idiot, a joke made by someone who doesn't understand music at all. Wei Taiqiang pulled his hair and wanted to run out to block the performance of the e-sports team; But his friend, who accompanied him, stopped him, saying that the conductor would identify the mistakes in the performance and correct them all,—— not to mention that Wei Taiqiang should not have come forward at all, and his accusation would only make things worse. He left Wei Tai in the box strongly. Wei Taiqiang was at his mercy, and just knocked his fist on his head; And every time he hears a performance that is too unspeakable, even if he kills him, those who laugh at him in every way,—— their laughter still rings in his ears,—— will they change the beastly nature a little? There are too many of them to imagine; They disagreed on many things, but united when they insulted him and pressed others. It's not just a misunderstanding, it's also a resentment. What did he do to them? He does have something wonderful hidden in his heart, something that teaches pleasure and happiness; He wanted to speak up and let others enjoy it, thinking that they would be as happy as he was. Even if they can't appreciate it, they must at least appreciate his kindness, and at best point out his mistakes in a friendly manner; But because of this, they made fun of him with malice, distorted his thoughts, slandered him, trampled him under his feet, turned him into a clown to control him to death, what is the starting point! In his anger, he exaggerated the resentment of others and took it too seriously: in fact, such a mediocre person has nothing to take seriously at all. He wailed and cried, "Where have I sinned against them?" He held his breath and felt that he was finished, just as he had been when he first saw the ferocity of man in his childhood.

Then he looked around and at his feet, and it turned out that he had walked to the brook near the mill, where his father had drowned a few years earlier. The thought of committing suicide by throwing himself into the water immediately crossed his mind, and he wanted to jump down immediately.

Just as he was standing on the shore, looking out at the clear and tranquil water, he was bewildered, and a very small bird stopped on a nearby branch and began to sing very passionately. He listened silently. The water is there to whisper. Flowering wheat stalks ripple and rustle in the breeze; Poplar Xiao Xiao, shivering. Behind the fence by the roadside, the invisible bees in the garden spread that fragrant music. On the other side of the stream, a cow with eyes like agate was trance. A little girl with pale yellow hair sat on the edge of the wall, carrying a light, scarce rattan basket on her shoulder, like an angel with her wings outstretched, and she fantasized there, swinging her bare legs and humming a meaningless tune. In the distance, a dog galloped across the prairie, its four legs in a large circle in the air......

Wei Taiqiang leaned against a tree, listened, and looked at the scene of spring returning to the earth; The breath of peace and joy of these creatures infected him...... He had forgotten everything, and she would rather not mention it. After Wei Taiqiang broke with the court, her grief was not for the incident itself, but because her son suffered a lot. As for his disconnection with newspapers and magazines, she was very happy. She was as disgusted with writing and paper, like all countrymen, and thought that it was just a waste of your time and a source of trouble. On several occasions she heard a couple of young men from the magazine talking to Wei Taiqiang: she felt terrible about their ferocity; They slander everything, slander everything, and the more bad things they say, the happier they become. She didn't like this group of people. No problem, they are very intelligent and knowledgeable, but they are by no means good people. So Wei Taiqiang's disconnection with them made her very comforting, and she was very reasonable: what good was it for him to be with them? As for Wei Taiqiang himself, he thought so:

"They like to leave it up to them what I say, how I write, how I think; They will not make me who I am. What do their art, their ideas, have to do with me! I deny it all! ”

It is good to be able to deny society, but society will not easily let young people talk big things and deny it. Wei Taiqiang is very sincere, but he still has illusions and does not know himself clearly. He is not a monk, he does not have the temperament of a retreat, and he has not reached the age of retreat. The first one was not painful at first, because he was immersed in his work wholeheartedly; As long as there is work to do, he doesn't feel that anything is lacking. But during the period when the old work is finished and the new work has not yet budded in his heart, there is often a low ebb in his spirit: he wanders around and can't help but feel cold about his loneliness. He asked himself why he was writing. When you're writing, you don't have this kind of problem: isn't it easy to write because you should write? When a work is born and placed in front of us, the strong instinct that squeezed the work out of our chest before is silent, and we don't understand why this work was produced, we don't recognize it anymore, we almost see it as a strange thing, we just want to forget it. But as long as the work has not been printed, has not been played, and has not survived independently in the world, we will not forget it. Because in this case, the work is still a newborn connected to the mother's body, a living thing connected to flesh and blood; If it wants to survive in the world, it must be cut off. The more Wei Taiqiang made, the more oppressed he was by these things that had been bred out of his life; Because they can't live, they can't die. Who will liberate them for him? A vague and ambiguous pressure was agitating his thinking babies; They tried their best to break away from him, to spread it out to other hearts, like a living seed that blows through the world in the wind. Does he have to be locked up forever and unable to grow? Then he might be crazy about it. What Wei Taiqiang took out and came out was not the more popular and unpopular kind of his works, but a group of works with the most personality and his own most attention, all of which were piano tunes, including a few songs, some of which were very short, the tunes were very popular, and some were very large-scale, almost dramatic. Taken together, these works are a set of sad or happy impressions, which are naturally connected, sometimes expressed by solo piano performances, sometimes by solo or piano accompaniment singing. "Because," said Wei Taiqiang, "when I fantasize, I don't have any fixed form: I'm just miserable, happy, and have no words to describe; But suddenly I felt the need to speak, so I sang without thinking: sometimes it was just words with little meaning, staccato sentences. Sometimes neat poems; Then I sank into fantasy again. And so the days passed; And I do want to describe the emotions of the day. Why do you have to print a collection that is purely a song or a pure overture?