Exam Questions (Part One)

"Could you all keep it down?"

A tall, slender man in a black tailcoat and white gloves stepped out from the front of the group.

His voice was cold and deep, but it instantly cut off everyone's discussion of Fan Ning.

This was Murich, leader of the first-year group at the conservatory and a piano major.

The conservatory divided its students into three major groups for administrative purposes:

The first group consisted of the larger performance majors, such as piano, vocal music, and strings.

The second group was wind and percussion, with few students in each discipline but a wide variety of them: flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, French horn, tuba, trumpet, trombone, timpani, triangle... There were too many to count.

The first two groups were performance majors, while the third included musicology, composition, conducting, arts management, and more.

Ram Cecil, who had crossed paths with Fan Ning before, was the leader of the third-year group and a standout in the composition department.

As for Murich, the leader of the first group, he was the conservatory's acknowledged piano prodigy and had also made considerable achievements in composition. In his sophomore year, he had premiered his own First Piano Concerto at the New Year's Concert. Though it had merely been an immature student work, someone capable of doing that appeared only once in a decade.

"You only signed up for a large-scale work. Did you really have to lose your composure like this? Are there really so few people trying their luck every year?"

Murich swept a cold gaze over the crowd.

"The professors will be here soon. Mind your manners as gentlemen and ladies."

The piano prodigy's authority as group leader worked. The crowd fell temporarily silent.

"Caloen Van Ning, are you planning to write a large-scale orchestral work too?" A rich, warm voice suddenly came from behind Fan Ning.

"Good morning, Dean!"

"Good morning, Professor Gould!"

"Dean, you came early."

Including Fan Ning, everyone bowed.

The short old man before them was Belen Gould, dean of Saint Leniya Conservatory. His hair was glossy black, his spirit vigorous, and his eyes bright. He wore a frequent smile.

"Yes, Dean. I want to write a symphony for my graduation." Fan Ning answered.

"Huh? Did I hear that right?" Cecil looked as though he had heard the funniest joke in the world. "You want to write a symphony too?"

"He's so young, and he wants to write a symphony? Does he know how difficult that is? Four movements at minimum, lasting at least forty minutes. He needs to be familiar with every instrument's capabilities and characteristics. Does he think he has Master Gilels's talent?"

"Even if he had that talent, studying under Professor Conall would still ruin him, wouldn't it?"

Even with the dean present, whispers rose from behind them once more.

Gould raised a hand to stop the discussion, then said to Fan Ning, "A symphony isn't that simple, but I'm looking forward to it. Let's see how you perform in the improvisation later."

"Thank you." Fan Ning bowed.

Soon, I can verify that mysterious text message once again. He thought to himself.

"And you will all eventually understand that Professor Anton Conall is a great master of composition."

The registration line soon reached Fan Ning. He picked up the top envelope from the stack. Its gray-black exterior was thick and finely textured, with the pale number 6 written on it. The opening was sealed with white wax.

He wrote his name and information on the registration form, then walked off the stage to find a seat.

"Caloen, over here!"

Under the dim light of the hall, with the lamps not yet fully lit, a male student in the back row leaned halfway out. He had curly hair and wore a cotton shirt with a brand-new dark waistcoat.

Fan Ning forced out a slight smile. The curve was small but sincere. "Galvin, you got here early."

"Good thing I lined up early." Galvin waved the white envelope in his hand. "You really went for it. I don't even expect my little piano piece to be selected, and you wrote a symphony... My God, just imagining what it would be like if I had to improvise onstage myself makes my hands start shaking..."

This was Fan Ning's roommate during his first and second years. They were in the same major and usually got along well.

Saint Leniya University had long enforced a compulsory boarding system. The accommodations were simple, and the school advocated cultivating the diligent, frugal character of a gentleman. The system had been optimized ten years earlier, limiting mandatory residence to the first two years. The admission channels for women had been opened at the same time.

After Fan Ning sat down beside him, Galvin lowered his voice again. "By the way, I heard about Professor Anton Conall."

"Quite a few people know already. I think the obituary will be issued tomorrow morning." Fan Ning's voice was calm.

"I am deeply sorry and saddened." Galvin clearly knew about Fan Ning's relationship with Professor Anton. "Even people who weren't musicology majors had mostly taken courses like his Complete History of Western Continent Music, Introduction to the Evolution of Performance Styles, and Introduction to the Evolution of Compositional Techniques. In ordinary people's eyes, Professor Anton was rigid and overly scholarly, but I deeply admired his learning and his gentlemanly bearing. I want to attend the funeral and see him off on his final journey."

"Thank you, Galvin." Fan Ning placed his top hat on his knees and steadied his cane. "Let me ask you something. Have you heard whether several students have met with accidents?"

"Of course! There were two, right? I don't know about the other one, but Vulkan Harvey was from our conservatory's piano department. It's terrifying. What could he have seen that drove him to crawl into a piano in defiance of the body's natural structure? Or was there some indescribable external force?"

Mentioning the matter clearly frightened Galvin badly.

"There were two?" Fan Ning asked again.

"Two, I think. They were both students at the same school. With something this serious, if there were anyone else, we might not know the details, but it would be impossible for us not to hear anything at all."

Fan Ning found it strange. Then what were those two human-shaped silhouettes I saw onstage when I first crossed over? Could they not have been dead people? Or at least not the two classmates I spoke with after class?

The possibility lightened his psychological burden somewhat.

"Actually, there were three. Sigh... Teacher Anton too..." Seeing Fan Ning remain silent, Galvin added this.

"Right, Caloen, there also seems to be a rumor that their deaths are somehow connected. You often discussed music with Teacher Anton, didn't you? Be careful lately."

He looked at Fan Ning with concern.

Fan Ning let out a long sigh and tried to change the subject. "That cane of yours looks quite expensive. Oh... What have you been busy with this past month?"

"I found a part-time job." Galvin was carefree and answered whatever he was asked.

"Oh? Where? How are the conditions?"

"Better than you could imagine. Four days a week, easy work, no more than three or four hours a day. I can earn about £3.5 a week now. If my performance remains good, I might even make more than four or five pounds later."

"As a student job, it's enough to guarantee my daily quality of life and even cover respectable social expenses. Hey, but the details are confidential. I signed an agreement with my employer." As he said this, he put on a mysterious expression.

Hearing this description, Fan Ning looked perplexed.

Big brother... You didn't suddenly decide to stop striving and take up some kind of "I don't want to work hard anymore" profession, did you?

Just then, all the gas lamps on the walls around the hall lit up, and the three chandeliers on the ceiling brightened at the same time. The latter used the latest electric lighting technology. Hundreds of intricate crystal arrays shone together, transforming the originally dim hall into a resplendent spectacle.

Fan Ning's gaze settled on the center of the stage lighting, where a nine-foot black Boesius Piano stood.

What an enormous beast, impossible to look away from—violent yet effortlessly elegant, deep yet aggressively imposing...

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Just like the Steinway Piano on Blue Star.

In both his former and present lives, they were the tangible creations Fan Ning was most obsessed with, without exception.

His fingertips brushed over the black envelope containing the exam question. He had already begun imagining what the improvisation test would be and what he himself would play.