Tightening the book in her hand, the girl turned around again.
Walk towards the agreed place.
‘fuge.’
It is a polyphonic music genre popular in the Baroque period.
It can also be used as the name of a tavern.
The front of the fuge pub is a bit deserted today.
Qin Jian crossed the road and as soon as he approached the store door, he heard the quiet voice coming from inside.
"Scarlatti? Sonata in B minor?"
I stopped, raised my head and looked at the house number above my head again. The four letters "fuge" seemed to be enchanted by the music, exuding some kind of magic, making people unable to help but step in to find out.
As you enter the door, you will see an oil painting as tall as one person hanging on the wall on the left.
"The Three Graces?"
Qin Jian was not an art lover, but happened to come across this oil painting in a book describing the artistic style of the Baroque period.
The three naked female backs that represent charm, elegance and beauty are enough to attract Qin Jian's attention, both in the past and now.
"This is art."
Passing through a short corridor is the lobby
The space is not big.
There were no all kinds of charming women, no colorful wine glasses, and even there was only a cold smell of oak barrels in the air.
The entire ground seems to be paved with gray rocks, and under the outline of the cold light, it gives people a desolate feeling.
A group of young people were sitting around the central bar, with several tables of strangers sitting around.
On the small stage at the back, there was a matte brown piano, and a man with a beard sat behind the piano.
The man's hands that were touching the keys were very gentle, like stroking a lover's cheek.
It was difficult for Qin Jian to connect this unkempt man with the works of the most elusive composer of the eighteenth century.
But this is undoubtedly the best description Qin Jian has ever heard, about Scarlatti's unique joke left in the world.
It's amazing, but full of uncertainties.
After looking around, Qin Jian came to a table for two against the wall and sat down.
From this angle, you can see the stage completely.
"Sir, what do you need?"
A waiter came over with a very soft voice.
"A glass of iced Americano, thank you."
Qin Jian's voice was also very soft, his eyes never leaving the figure on the stage.
Under the spotlight, a cello and a flute on a tripod were placed on the stage, exuding a silver luster.
The stage is completely equipped with a flute chamber music trio, but there is only one figure at this time.
The lonely sound of the piano.
Qin Jian sighed softly.
Gradually, there were more and more people in the tavern.
But 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 gentle applause from a corner of the audience, and Qin Jian also applauded gently.
The man stood up and picked up the wine bottle at his feet, walked slowly off the stage, casually sat on an empty table, and drank the wine in the bottle to the end.
At this time, the atmosphere in the entire hall relaxed.
Someone even used a low voice to invite him to play another song, but he ignored it and just raised the wine bottle in his hand towards the bar.
Soon a waiter brought a bottle of wine to his table.
Laughter and talk gradually spread.
The atmosphere in the tavern is getting more and more exciting.
During this period, people would occasionally come on stage to show off their piano skills, including everything from Beethoven's "Für Elise" to Bach's Preludes.
And no matter how good your skills are, you will always get applause and praise.
However, during the rest of the time, there will be a fixed person playing from the background, who should be the pianist in the pub.
"This place is really nice. It's like a real gathering place for classical music lovers, except that things are a bit expensive."
In such an environment, just sitting in a corner with a cup of air-conditioned coffee worth 88 yuan is enough to make people feel completely comfortable.
An hour passed, and the music in my ears never stopped.
Qin Jian sat curled up comfortably, his eyes wandering between the stage and the crowd, and gradually fell into some kind of thoughts.
As an important music theme in the Baroque period, fuge represents rigor, balance, and order.
In such a space named fu***, it is like an island that is solid but not heavy.
People seem to be balancing music and wine, or faith and other things, in a lawful way.
The pure moment of escaping from reality is indeed not only about wine, but also about music.
Sitting in a room with such an oriental atmosphere and listening to the West is like an endless journey to a foreign country. Like the echo on a pin, it lingers for a long time and all worries can be left behind.
Music arouses people's thoughts and always points to the root of the problem in philosophy.
Qin Jian seemed to feel some kind of guidance, and his heart could not be calm for a long time...
…
a long time.
Qin Jian returned to the American coffee in front of him, and the noise in his ears became clear again.
He raised his head in confusion, and there was an empty seat in front of the piano on the stage again.
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, he stood up and slowly walked towards the stage.
The hall gradually became quiet, and someone clapped softly. Compared to the resident pianist, everyone was more enthusiastic about this stranger who came on stage spontaneously.
Most people's eyes were on the stage, except for a few, such as the man holding the wine bottle, the girl at her table, and a bartender.
The bartender was concentrating on mixing drinks for the guests, looking very attentive, while the man and the girl were not affected by the surrounding atmosphere 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 and took another sip of wine, "Have you decided on the music for the first round?" His clear words did not fit the image at all, and he did not sound at all drunk.
"Yeah." The girl's voice was a little cold, "Sonata in F minor."
The man didn't seem to hear the girl's words, and gradually turned his head and looked towards the stage.
Qin Jian didn't choose any proficient piece of music, not because he was worried about missing one of his cards at this sensitive and time-sensitive location.
He simply wants to play a fugue, or his brain tells him, 'You should play a fugue, even the simplest one.'
Qin Jian chose a short piece that belonged to his childhood.
Reminisced a little bit.
Relying on his memory, Qin Jian's left hand began to wander on the keyboard, and a single melody floated at the top of the entire hall.
This is a very simple little melody.
Looking at the narcissistic expression of the performer on the stage, no one will think that this is not a good performance just because of his few wrong notes or interruptions.
"This big brother seems to have played wrongly."
Everyone just laughed lightly at the childish voice in the audience.
Before a melody ended, another similar melody quietly flowed out.
Qin Jian's left hand joined in at a certain moment.
It is obviously a piece of music, but at this moment it seems like two people are speaking at the same time.
Trapped by something mysterious and exquisite.
The two hands moved left and right, intertwined, with no flickering flow, no gorgeous sentimentality, the simplest phrases, and the most mediocre melody.
Overlapping together, there is always a slight gap.
"I see."
At the end of the song, Qin Jian opened his eyes, and a flash of surprise flashed through his pupils.
It seems that a reliable starting point has been found for a certain question left by Bach.
The audience burst into applause.
Qin Jian stood up and bowed with his usual Qin Jian smile.
Off stage.
"know?"
The man turned his head and saw the girl's locked gaze still on the stage.
The girl looked away and shook her head, but her mind was still recalling the left hand wrapped in a white bandage.
"Ziboli's Little Fugue, this piece was written into the exam course when I was in college."
The girl continued, "Level 2."
"Ninety-five percent of the piano boys of your generation have played this song."