The Revelation of Mirrors and Ripples

Under the dim light, the mirror submerged in the basin did not reflect things very clearly to begin with.

Amid the oscillations on the water's surface, fragments of all sorts of scenes continuously arranged and recombined themselves, leaping and tumbling.

Qiong crouched beside the basin with her waist bent, one hand clutching her skirt and the other covering the straight neckline of her overdress. She brought her face close to the water and observed it carefully.

"I can't make out anything. This is way too chaotic." Fan Ning stood beside her, watching curiously. "But these reflections are definitely not scenes from the surroundings... That's a little strange."

"Eh?~~~~~~??" Qiong's voice was crisp and utterly bewildered, the sound drawn out for a very, very long time.

"That can't be right. What's going on?"

"Was the investigation wrong? Those two upperclassmen never came here?"

"Or was something interfering with it?"

Qiong muttered to herself for a while, then stood and looked at Fan Ning. Her tone seemed a little weary, a little embarrassed, and a little aggrieved. "Caloen, maybe I messed something up somewhere. Do you want to wait while I try again?"

"Wait a moment first." Fan Ning crouched beside the basin.

He imagined the spherical field of Inspiration formed when his three beams of light converged and expanded, enveloping the water and mirror before him with a denser, more viscous force.

A Third-Rank Knower's Inspiration surged at full force. As it burned away at tremendous speed, the pale golden stream of light in Fan Ning's eyes turned incandescent white.

He felt that some attached spots or layers atop those leaping fragments of scenery on the water's surface were fading, dissolving, peeling away.

Amid the shimmering, rippling water, the man in black formalwear inside the mirror played the piano...

The view shifted. On the tiered platforms beside the piano stood men and women singing. They wore black formalwear or white formal dresses, sheet music unfolded in their hands...

The view shifted. A number of people sat below the stage watching the rehearsal, only around twenty or thirty of them, mostly seated in the first three rows...

The view shifted. The rehearsal ended and the men and women dispersed. Some stepped off the stage, while some audience members went up onto it. Everyone chatted with one another...

The view shifted. A young man in black formalwear and a young woman in white formalwear sat in the front row of the audience, laughing and talking together. They even yawned and stretched lazily during that time...

The view shifted. Three or four people successively sat at the piano and played for their own amusement. Since their clothing was rather homogeneous, it was hard to tell whether they included the performers from the earlier rehearsal. Several others stood around the piano chatting, while some people left the stage...

The view shifted. The scene rapidly darkened, as though the concert hall lights had gone out.

Then a face appeared.

For no apparent reason, an even colder gust of wind swept past.

"Holy shit." Fan Ning, crouching nearby, was so startled he nearly fell flat on his backside, only to realize later that it was his own face.

He turned back toward the candles on the altar. They had all gone out.

Fan Ning fell into thought.

Qiong immediately began tidying the altar and clearing away the items, her expression extremely serious.

A few minutes later, she asked Fan Ning, "You got so serious afterward. Did you see something?"

Fan Ning briefly recounted the several scenes.

"Why could I never see anything clearly? How strange." Qiong tilted her head, winding a lock of hair around her finger. "Caloen, this move of mine had always worked, really."

Fan Ning picked up the basin and draped a rag over it. "Maybe you haven't been sleeping well lately, Qiong."

"Maybe. I've been eating too many snacks lately, late at night." Qiong pursed her little lips.

After returning every object to its proper place, the two left the conservatory. Night had already fallen.

"Why did you come looking for me today?" Qiong raised her head to look at Fan Ning.

"Didn't you want to go to Marchioness McAdam's Music Salon on Saturday? So I planned to ask you to rehearse a piece and perform it at the salon. I'll ask Hiran too."

"Okay, okay! What piece? Do you want me to play the flute?" Qiong agreed with particular delight.

"Not the flute." Fan Ning shook his head. "I'm writing a string quartet. Last time, you said you also studied violin, so I want you to play second violin, while Hiran plays first violin."

"Wow, you wrote a complete, multi-movement serious chamber work? Caloen, you're really too interesting. No wonder you're a young composer!" Qiong's dark eyes shone. "Then what about the violist and cellist?"

"You'll meet them then," Fan Ning said. "Come meet us tomorrow afternoon after class. I'll distribute the scores first."

"Okay! Where?"

"Let's see which small chamber hall at the conservatory is available."

Qiong lowered her chin onto fingers as pale as scallions and thought for a moment. "Right! Our department should have Hall No. 4 reserved for the entire day tomorrow, but under normal circumstances we won't rehearse until evening. Shall we go there?"

Fan Ning nodded. "That would be best. Who did you learn Tulungalia language from?"

"Eh? You could tell? I learned it from Hiran. She and Uncle Anton both know the language."

Right, Teacher Anton researched ancient languages, and Hiran was also fond of history books... Fan Ning remembered this.

It seemed he would not need to seek what was near and chase what was far when he studied ancient languages later. He just did not know what level Hiran was at.

Teaching him the basics should be more than enough, right?

Qiong asked, "Do you have any thoughts about those scenes we saw in the ritual just now?"

Fan Ning frowned as he thought. "Some properties of the scenes—if we have to say they were similar, we really can find points of similarity..."

"First, the settings were all chamber halls like this. People gathered first, then gradually dispersed. And aside from having gone onstage, the people involved had also listened to performances from below the stage..."

"But those similarities are all too general... There aren't any particularly noteworthy details. These are scenes that can easily appear during rehearsals, performances, and teaching activities..."

Qiong nodded. "Don't you think that in this incident, among all the people involved, you yourself were actually the most unusual one?"

Fan Ning said, "Of course. I'm still alive."

Because he had transmigrated here. Otherwise, he would still be wearing a lab coat and hauling bricks in the urban-rural fringe.

"No, there's more. You encountered the incident on the spot, while they all met with trouble after returning, including Professor Anton."

Fan Ning nodded slightly. "All right, that counts as a point of distinction too. But I think I need to revisit the scene where I experienced it myself and see whether the two have anything in common. Otherwise, relying on memory alone isn't intuitive enough."

Qiong said, "Then shall we go over now?"

Fan Ning shook his head. "We can't. Chamber Hall No. 1 is a public teaching venue, and I can't get the Key. Nor can we perform this ritual during teaching hours. By the way, does it have a time limit?"

Qiong explained, "Of course, the closer in time it is, the clearer it will be. Within a week, its completeness and clarity decline relatively gradually. After that, they blur sharply, until only vague light, shadows, or shapes remain."

"It's been four or five days now." Fan Ning counted it out. "I'll think of a way to see if there's a chance to set up the ritual in Hall No. 1. Let's leave it at that for today. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Composer. I'm looking forward to your masterpiece tomorrow." Qiong happily bid Fan Ning farewell.

That night, Professor Anton's small villa, first-floor reception room.

"Caloen, I want to hear Niemann's Prelude Collection." Hiran held a thick book as she leaned against the sofa and read.

"No time today." Fan Ning sat before the piano, though he was not facing the keyboard.

He wrote furiously on a movable folding writing board suspended to his right.

From time to time, he turned around and tried out and confirmed certain passages on the piano according to what he remembered.

Two treble-clef staves for the violins, one alto-clef staff for the viola, and one bass-clef staff for the cello—note after note sprang from Fan Ning's pen onto the printed manuscript paper for string quartets, arranged in sets of four staves.

After picking Hiran up that evening, Fan Ning told her about the rehearsal. She readily took leave from all her recent evening classes.

At the Elementary Grammar School, where the administrative rules were rather strict, only a top student like her could manage it so smoothly.

"I'm going back to my room. Good night." After reading for more than an hour, Hiran got up and went upstairs.

"Same as last night. If anything unusual happens, call me. I'll be in the living room tonight." Fan Ning stopped writing.

"What if I don't notice it?"

"Sleep without worry. I can."

Although their positions in the house were farther apart than yesterday.

Fan Ning was fully confident that he would notice the slightest stir. His Inspiration intuition was exceptionally sharp now; if Phase fluctuated abnormally, he would definitely wake even from sleep.

Rubbing his face and forehead, Fan Ning continued writing the string quartet until very late into the night.

After completing the first two movements, he lay directly on the sofa for a few hours.

The next day, he had classes all day.

After escorting Hiran, Fan Ning headed to Saint Leniya Conservatory.

Although he had written until late last night, he still felt exceptionally energetic.

Dressed formally and carrying a briefcase, he arrived at the tiered lecture hall twenty minutes early.

Today's classes were public courses for the entire fourth-year conservatory cohort: History of the Development of Musical Aesthetics in the morning, and Introduction to Music Pedagogy in the afternoon.

"There are quite a lot of people today. Everyone came early..."

Bright light, gentle fragrance, gleaming wooden floors, spacious long black-lacquered tables.

Some had already taken their seats, while others stood in little clusters chatting.

"Today's atmosphere feels a little unusual. No, why are all of you staring at me?"

After taking a few steps inside, Fan Ning suddenly felt that something was off.