Final Score

The professors' applause finally brought the audience back to their senses, and thunderous applause and cheers immediately erupted from the auditorium.

Especially among the musicology students seated toward the back.

Their palms were red from clapping, and their voices were hoarse from shouting.

Several girls completely abandoned their elegant ladylike composure. They stood up, cupped their hands like "megaphones," and shouted toward the stage.

"Caloen!"

"Caloin Van Ning!!!"

"Fantastic!~~~~~"

"Way to go!!"

Galvin was the most outrageous of all. He planted a foot on the seat's armrest, climbed up, sat on top of the backrest, and waved the black silk top hat he had just bought with all his might, howling until his voice cracked.

The musicology department usually had it pretty rough.

Many people held the biased view that musicology lowered the admissions threshold for music-related majors.

Many outstanding performance students had received excellent artistic education from their families since childhood, along with top-quality instruments, giving them a solid foundation.

As for those prodigies of composition or conducting? Their families had a small band, or even a full symphony orchestra, so they could practice their creations at any time and receive immediate feedback.

All of that required "burning money"!

As for musicology students, other people's impression of them was that they were a bunch of fellows engaged in so-called "theoretical research into music itself," drifting outside the academy's mainstream performances and competitions, able to read out their incomprehensible papers only during thesis defenses.

They had almost no presence at the graduation concerts each year.

Yet they were placed in the third year group alongside the composition and conducting departments, and were disciplined by the "top students" throughout their four years of university.

But this time, Fan Ning's performance onstage had finally allowed them to hold their heads high!

There was an even more practical point: if Fan Ning's symphony was truly selected in the end, the composer would have considerable say in choosing the musicians for the premiere of his work!

They were sincerely excited for Fan Ning—and for themselves.

The applause still did not stop.

After bowing at the front of the stage, Fan Ning raised his head. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Group Leader Ram Cecil sitting in the first row to the side, his face looking as though he had just eaten rat droppings.

He remembered how he had been in danger that morning and had important business to attend to, yet his request for leave had been rejected. He thought to himself:

Group Leader Cecil, I was forced to work, and you got exactly what you asked for. Feeling better now?

"Caloin Van Ning, thank you for bringing us this auditory feast." Dean Gould spoke up. "What I want to ask is, did you really just compose it?"

Fan Ning smiled and was just about to speak.

"I'd like to interrupt for a moment. I'm sorry, Dean, but I've been holding it in for several minutes and I'm simply too excited." Vice Dean Hutz stood up. "Fan Ning, whether this piece came from your inspiration at the scene or from an earlier conception, as long as you arrange it properly and submit it to the Small-Scale Works Selection, I'll make sure it appears at the graduation concert."

"Because it is an undisputed masterpiece of Romantic music."

"All right, I'm done." Professor Hutz promptly sat back down.

Dean Gould smiled when he heard this. "Although convention dictates that each student may perform at most one work, there doesn't seem to be any explicit rule forbidding the simultaneous selection of multiple works." He then asked the other judges, "What do you think?"

The first vice dean and Professor Lorin Brownie, Cecil's composition teacher, had an old voice and a detached tone. "That depends on the judges' overall opinions, as well as the actual performances in the next few rounds."

"Respected professors, just as I chose the black envelope, what I hope to bring everyone at the graduation concert is a symphony." Fan Ning finally seized the chance to speak.

"Fan Ning, we respect your choice. However,

"you should at least give today's piano piece a name." The dean said, "We don't want to hear it only this once. It deserves to be performed and appreciated often, don't you agree?"

Almost all the judges expressed agreement. Even the people in the audience nodded along.

"It came from some fantasies and Inspiration during today's improvisation test, so let's call it 'Fantasy Impromptu.'" Fan Ning said.

"'Fantasy Impromptu'... A good name. Oh right, we forgot to announce the score." Gould smiled. "Caloin Van Ning, your final average score is—"

"18.8 points!"

"Too high! That's nearly a full point higher than Murich from the piano department!"

"Probably no one can surpass that."

Another wave of astonishment erupted from the audience.

Clearly, the vast majority of the judges had given him full marks or nearly full marks, with the exception of the coldly reacting First Vice Dean Professor Lorin Brownie.

But he could not go against his conscience and push the score below the passing line, which had resulted in this final average.

In the preliminary round, which accounted for twenty points, Fan Ning had already gained a certain advantage.

According to academy convention, the graduation concert would be held a few weeks before the June graduation ceremony, around late May each year. The afternoon session was chamber music, while the evening session was the more important symphony session. Both sessions featured student works in the first half and masterworks in the second half.

Because of the concert's limited duration, around five small-scale works would be selected, with about fifteen nominations; only one large-scale work would be selected, with three nominations.

Fan Ning put on his gloves and walked off the stage.

"Um, Caloin, do you have the score for 'Fantasy Impromptu'? I'd like to practice it." A girl in a blue dress approached him and asked in a slightly bashful voice.

"I want it too."

"I'd like one too."

"I'll practice it as soon as I get home."

"What are you waiting for? I'll use it to show off at the next family gathering."

"I'm going to use it to pursue the junior girl I like." The boys and girls around him chattered away. Among them were quite a few performance students who usually looked down on musicology.

This fully demonstrated that good music was the key to moving people.

"Everyone, don't rush. I'll organize it after I get home, then share it with you." Fan Ning responded politely.

"Caloin, will you include 'Fantasy Impromptu' in your official catalog of works and publish it?"

"Student Fan Ning, who will you dedicate it to?"

More and more people gathered in the corridor beside this section of the audience.

"Ahem..." Fan Ning cleared his throat awkwardly. "Everyone, let's talk later. There are still students behind us who need to take the test."

"That's right, that's right. We're sorry." Only then did everyone come back to their senses.

In the tests that followed, perhaps because Fan Ning's earlier performance had created too great a shock and psychological pressure, everyone performed rather ordinarily. Only a few even managed to surpass Maugham's score as contestant number one.

Group Leader Cecil from the composition department was contestant number 17, relatively late in the order. After taking the stage, he drew a bass tone row consisting of eight notes and improvised a set of variations that included a theme and three fixed-bass variations. He received a score of 17.7—0.2 lower than Group Leader Murich from the piano department.

If his number had been drawn before Fan Ning's, or if he had maintained a good state of mind and avoided mistakes during the performance, he should have been able to take second place.

After coming down from the stage, Cecil sat in the audience. His chest continued heaving for a long time before he finally calmed down.

The image of that fellow Vincent van Ning's perpetually constipated face, always wearing the air of a superior man, flashed before his eyes. So did the Turner Art Gallery in the East Mechelen District, which for more than ten years had consistently surpassed his family's Mecklen Free Museum in exhibition popularity, critical reputation, and event quality.

Fortunately, three years ago, that detestable fellow had actually disappeared while participating in the 39th Harvest Art Festival! He had probably suffered a traffic accident or some public-security incident in a foreign land, or contracted some virulent infectious disease and died suddenly!

Cecil's family had several councilors spread across the local councils of the Lenia District, East Mechelen District, and South Wharf District. The Mecklen Free Museum was one of his family's cultural enterprises. After Fan Ning's father disappeared, the museum had successfully accelerated the Turner Art Gallery's closure by crowding out its exhibiting artists, diverting its audience, making malicious comments and complaints, and interfering with art auctions.

At this point in his recollection, he finally revealed a faint sneer.

"The second round will most likely be chamber-music composition. We'll have to receive the judgment of the entire Ufransel music world at the New Works Exhibition Hall of the City Concert Hall."

Although he thought highly of himself, he understood that his third-place ranking in the preliminary round, more than one point behind, was already set. Negative emotions were useless. What he needed to prepare for carefully now was the testing ahead.

"I'm determined to obtain the premiere opportunity for 'First Symphony.' The work...? Connections...? Influence...? During the second round, I really want to see what you'll use to compete with me."