Leaving the piano, Qin Jian got up and looked at the living room that had been ruined by himself in the past two days, and it was no longer as clean and tidy as Ye Yi had cleaned up before.

"Clean up. ”

Some people finish their morning exercises, and some people start their morning exercises.

...

Austria.

At 05:53 Vienna time, it was still gray.

In the first block of the Travelling Apartments on Marquestein Street, a room with the lights on is slightly prominent.

In the lavishly decorated room, the most conspicuous thing is the medals and trophies hanging on the walls.

It can be said that this is a wall built by honor, and on the opposite side of the wall is a grand piano.

Adams sat down at the piano at six o'clock sharp, as usual.

The fingers fall on the piano, and the scale breaks through the dawn.

In the past year, his life has become much more regular, which makes his agent Alina very happy.

Although Adams's decision to withdraw from the Mozart final caused an uproar in the industry at the time, Alina, as an agent, quickly suppressed the incident through various means.

Since then, Adams has been a different person, no longer hanging out in the midnight places, and he has put aside all commercial activities and is quiet in front of the piano every day.

All this made Alina seem to see the Adams she had just met.

Healthy, positive, uplifting.

At noon, Alina listened to the sound of the piano outside the door and opened the door of the apartment with her key card.

"Butterflies?"

As if she was back at home, Alina casually threw her handbag on the sofa in the living room, not caring if her words would interrupt the player's mood, "Isn't the repertoire set yet?"

Faced with the agent's question, Adams moved his mouth while pushing the melody: "Good question. ”

Until the end of the repertoire, he left the piano.

Looking at Alina on the couch, she said, "Help me contact Mark in the afternoon." ”

Alina was a little surprised, but nodded anyway, "And now, are you hungry?"

Adams raised the corners of his mouth and slowly walked in the direction of the couch.

A wicked smile looked particularly charming under his long blond hair, exuding a sense of charm that was irresistible to a woman.

"Yes. ”

As he spoke, his left hand unceremoniously reached out to the female agent.

"Wait, wait, the ticket... Second... Not... Hmm..."

Alina had no chance to speak, and she had come at noon to tell Adams about his trip to Warsaw—perhaps for some other purpose.

The next picture is full of indescribable European and American styles.

Mark is a barber, and yes, the couch is a good battleground.

The joy under the warm afternoon sun is no worse than the atmosphere of midnight.

It's just that not everything has a warm afternoon sun.

Not all battlefields are glamorous, either.

...

Syria.

Idlib time, 12:21, rain and snow.

At this time, half of the city was celebrating in the scorched earth behind the smoke of artillery fire.

Recently, the Kurdish armed forces and the Free Coalition Army have made a decisive breakthrough in the operation against IS, completely reversing the offensive position of IS on the Syrian battlefield, and after years of siege, the rebels finally captured Idlib, the second provincial capital city in Syria, today.

This is a phased victory for one of the parties.

It also gave this ruined city a moment of respite.

Because of this protracted war, the University of Idlib has been closed for months to protect the safety of students and students.

But no one in the vicinity knew that in the teaching building, which was only half white-walled, there had always been a special pair of teachers and students.

Today is also a special day for this special pair of teachers and students.

"It's time for Ido, it's time for us to go. ”

On a simple stage, like a makeshift setting, next to an ordinary piano, old Assad said to the young man in front of the piano.

When the young man of Ido heard his name, he raised his head with a smirk, and muttered, "Let's go... Let's go..."

"Yes, now put away your sheet music, and we'll be on to Damascus in a moment. ”

Hearing the words Damascus, a trace of clarity flashed in the eyes of the delicate-faced Ido, and then there was chaos.

"Sheet music... sheet music..."

He muttered and suddenly looked around, his arms uncontrollably gesturing in front of him, still muttering "My score... Where's the score.."

"The sheet music is on your music stand!!"

A roar seemed to sober up Ido, and when he heard the teacher's voice, he stopped panicking, looked ahead, and sure enough, he found the score.

As if he had found his own treasure, Ido slowly sorted it out.

"Here, put on your shoes. ”

Old Assad came over with a brand new black leather shoe and said, "Lift your feet." ”

Ido clumsily stretched out his foot, and old Assad crouched down to put on his shoes.

Ido packed up the score, and old Assad stood up.

The teacher and student looked at each other.

Moment.

Old Assad bent down and held Ido's face with both hands, staring at the other.

Ido seemed to try to avoid the gaze, but his neck could not twist, and he could only look at his teacher.

"Tell me, what are we going to do?"

Old Assad asked softly.

Ido swallowed and spat out, "We... To win. ”

Hearing Ido's words, the wrinkles on old Assad's forehead relaxed.

He got up and put Edo's head around his chest, and kindly stroked Edo's head: "That's right, good boy." ”

Looking out the window at the smoke of the war in the city, he said, "We want to win." ”

After a long time, he patted Ido on the shoulder, "Alright, it's time for us to go, it's not going to be easy." ”

With that, he walked towards his packed luggage, knowing that he and Ido had a long way to go from Warsaw.

Behind.

Edo slowly picked up a pair of crutches leaning against the piano.

Skillfully erected, it was difficult to keep up with the old Assad.

"To win... Win every game... I know... I know... I know..."

"We're going to win..."

...

Tokyo...

New York...

Paris...

Hamburg...

Pusan...

Singapore...

London...

Hoh Xili...

Saint petersburg...

With a week to go until the date of the preliminary round of the Chopin Competition, the 160 qualifiers from all over the world are busy.

Adams and Ido are just one microcosm of the crowd

As another Chopin year, it is foreseeable that this year's Warsaw is bound to be another lively year.

...

There are still 17 hours before Qin Jian's departure.

At the end of the morning exercise, Qin Jian recorded the five works of the preliminary competition from beginning to end.

After the recording, he listened to it again and again for another afternoon.

After making sure that no more changes were made, he closed the piano.

This should be the last time he will play the piano in 1401 this year.

“18:30。 ”

Loading up his mobile phone, Qin Jian put on his coat and left the house with two boxes of health care products and a delicately packaged Barbie doll at the door.

Out of the community, he raised his hand and hailed a taxi.

"Master, Ink Garden. ”