Rehearsal Group Meeting

Once the instructor entered, the large lecture hall finally fell completely silent.

Fan Ning listened for roughly twenty minutes as another substitute professor scribbled furiously on the lectern, then suddenly let out a long sigh.

This History of the Development of Musical Aesthetics had originally been Teacher Anton's elective course.

Although there was no difference in the two instructors' teaching abilities...

The comfortable mood he had gained after receiving a huge sum of money gradually vanished without a trace.

He smiled bitterly, feeling thoroughly miserable, then took several of today's newly issued weekly papers from his briefcase and began reading.

He subscribed to all the mainstream newspapers in the arts, but today's headlines had been taken over by major news from the imperial capital:

"The first subway line in the imperial capital, Saint Talanburg, officially began operations today."

The authorities believed it could fundamentally "relieve the imperial capital's unbearably congested traffic," but many experts and scholars expressed grave concern over potential hazards such as cave-ins, fires, and suffocation.

The media brought up the major railway accident involving the Cherubini three years ago, stating that the authorities should first focus on reducing the persistently high accident rate in the empire's railway transport industry instead of trying to "find another path" by building a subway.

Aside from the subway headline, the empire's three major mainstream cultural publications had all reported, in varying degrees of detail, on Professor Anton Conall's funeral, evaluating his entire artistic career from the perspective of his identity as a composer:

"Tioleian Cultural Weekly" called him "a socially influential composer," but used only a small amount of space to objectively report on Professor Conall's funeral.

"Ufransel Art Review" called him "a contemporary composer," but sharply pointed out that, judging from his middle and later works, his immersion in the study of ancient music had been a benighted choice that had "squandered the honors he earned during the first half of his artistic career."

"Hoffman Gramophone" called him "a renowned contemporary composer," believing that his middle and later works had "ancient materials but a revolutionary core." The paper especially pointed out that Conall's Third and Fourth Symphonies had broken through the limitations of harmony, orchestration, and musical form in this era, becoming "a spear hurled toward the future," though their true artistic value "awaited judgment by later generations."

"'Hoffman Gramophone' barely managed to give the most responsible assessment." Fan Ning calmly folded the newspaper. "Still, the music critics at these publications need to keep improving their level of knowledge."

"Even in my previous life, Teacher Anton's Third and Fourth Symphonies would absolutely have been the pinnacle of Romantic music, immortal masterpieces in the history of art."

Fan Ning lay across the desk and continued writing the final two movements of the string quartet.

The morning passed in a flash. At noon, he had Galvin bring him lunch, and once he started writing, he went straight on until five in the afternoon.

At the Pushoer Publishing House printing service center downstairs, he made five copies.

The four movements came to twenty pages, forty sides front and back, so he ended up copying a full hundred sheets.

Although the print shop offered enrolled students a discounted rate of 1.5 pennies per sheet, Fan Ning still spent more than twelve shillings in one go.

"This is going to become the norm from now on. I think I'd better go mooch off the Guidance School's printing presses more often."

Even though Fan Ning had just received five hundred pounds, the expense still pained him somewhat.

After a half-hour round trip, Fan Ning picked up Hiran after class, and the two headed for No. 4 Small Chamber Hall.

They were still in the stairwell when they heard faint sounds of arguing coming from that direction.

"That sounds like Qiong's voice?" Carrying Hiran's brown violin case, Fan Ning quickly climbed the stairs.

They saw Qiong, dressed in a tea-colored long skirt with a little green shawl draped over her shoulders, a handbag in one hand and a white violin case in the other, arguing with a group of people opposite her.

"Are you people even going to be reasonable?..."

Qiong sounded rather angry, but her lively, soft voice still made her look especially adorable even in the middle of an argument.

But what Fan Ning found more pitiful was that the six people opposite her all seemed to be taller than she was...

"Qiong, what's going on?" Hiran asked with a frown.

"Caloen, why are the people from your department being so unreasonable?" Qiong turned around, her expression aggrieved.

After listening for several minutes, Fan Ning finally understood the whole story.

According to what she had told him yesterday, No. 4 Hall had been reserved for the entire day by the Faculty of History and Literature. However, their rehearsal had just ended, and a large number of people had already left.

So the people from the Faculty of History and Literature had handed the key over to Qiong, letting her use the hall for the evening session.

Who could have known that this group also needed to rehearse a wind ensemble piece? They believed that since the Faculty of History and Literature's reserved rehearsal had ended, the venue should take priority for students from the Music Academy.

It was indeed approaching the end of the year, with many performances being held at the school. The usually plentiful venue resources were especially scarce now.

The two sides had started arguing.

After thinking it over, Fan Ning felt that Qiong had the stronger case, but if they insisted on making a mountain out of a molehill, there would be no end to the dispute.

He was not the sort of person who particularly enjoyed arguing with others.

He glanced at Qiong and Hiran, preparing to say, "Why don't we just find a larger practice room instead?" when a male student in a light-colored vest and gray tie, holding a French horn, stepped forward and spoke:

"So after all that, it's you, Caloen, planning to lead a group here just to fool around?" His tone was rather mocking. "If you want to show off in front of these first-year juniors, why don't you find a practice room?"

Most students specializing in performance in Groups One and Two still looked down on those majoring in musicology, and this horn player was clearly one of the majority.

Fan Ning's Fantasy Impromptu had attracted some admirers, but to another portion of people, it had inspired jealousy and disdain: So what if he got lucky and wrote a little piece? What's so impressive about that?

Several people beside him also burst into laughter:

"Exactly, Caloen. Wouldn't a practice room be more private?"

"Hahaha, using this chamber hall is such a waste."

"Why don't you two junior girls join our rehearsal? We'll show you what a professional performance is. Those musicology people are all just con artists."

Sigh... the ignorant... Sometimes they really are impossible to communicate with.

Fan Ning finally lost his temper for once.

When the horn player saw the pale golden radiance in Fan Ning's eyes, the scene before him suddenly twisted like rippling water. An inexplicable dizziness and heat flowed through the blood vessels in his brain.

The impact on his Astral Spirit Body made him stumble, while the others watching Fan Ning's eyes were also affected to a lesser degree even though he had not looked directly at them.

The group revealed expressions of fear and bewilderment.

"What are you doing here?" A deep, steady male voice suddenly came from behind them.

The radiance in Fan Ning's eyes flashed and vanished, and the strange sensations afflicting the group disappeared without a trace, as though they had merely experienced a brief hallucination.

"L-Leader, these people want to take our group's rehearsal spot."

"Exactly. Group Two is working overtime to rehearse a piece for the New Year's concert."

When they saw that the person approaching was Lu Adair, the group seemed to have spotted their savior.

"Leader, are you going somewhere to rehearse too? Weren't you playing the timpani this time?"

Another girl in a yellow dress holding an oboe noticed that Lu, dressed in a black formal suit, was carrying a musical instrument case. She greeted him in a soft, ingratiating voice.

"Idiots! Can't you see that we're together?" Lu finally could not hold back his anger.