Shen Le stood in the main hall of the Ancient Residence, listening closely to the Chime Bells. Two completely different melodies rose and fell in his ears:
One row carried the sound of spirituality. Those Chime Bells, which had slept underground as fragments for thousands of years, still firmly remembered their former glory and the most beautiful melodies they had once produced;
The other row carried the sound of reality. The Luo Skirts, who had hurriedly learned how to play the Chime Bells, held wooden striking rods and T-shaped mallets, carefully striking the bells one by one.
The front striking area, the side striking area; then the front striking area and side striking area of the next bell; then the next one—
The two melodies could not completely overlap. Or rather, even to someone like Shen Le, whose musical foundation was weak and who relied entirely on forced knowledge infusion, the difference was obvious.
They needed meticulous tuning—or rather, meticulous restoration of the sound bows—before they could be brought into perfect alignment—
"Let's do it—no matter what, at least I have a reference standard. Unlike the predecessors restoring other Chime Bells, who had no idea what the original bells were supposed to sound like before they were repaired—"
Shen Le let out a long sigh, lifted the smallest Chime Bell, and firmly secured it to the workbench. This tiny bell was only twenty centimeters tall, barely longer than his palm;
Yet it weighed around two and a half kilograms, heavy enough to drag at his hands. Shen Le tightly clamped both ends of the bell with cork-padded fixtures, then bent down to inspect it:
The size of a Chime Bell's opening was proportional to its total height.
With a height of twenty centimeters, the opening at the zheng section was