King of Classical Music

The fact that the New York Philharmonic Orchestra was going to perform had already reached the ears of numerous fans when it was originally announced by the festival. Now that they were going to recruit a temporary concertmaster, the fans were truly going crazy.

Many amateur violinists in the vicinity had not attended the festival because of other business. However, once this news got out, many were absent from work and even took to skipping classes. They flooded the festival in large numbers, and the next morning, Qi Mu was shocked by the sea of people when he arrived at the venue.

The small square was packed with people. Most of them were young and carried light-weight boxes with them. Some were even children accompanied by their parents, all registering.

Among these, a particularly handsome youth carrying a violin case seemed to catch more attention than the others. But soon, they were all drawn into the tense atmosphere that came with the registration process and no longer paid attention to anything else.

He hadn’t expected there would be so many people there to sign up. The registration would continue until nine am, and Qi Mu had arrived just after seven. How could have known some people had come at four or five in the morning? His registration number was in the last few dozen.

This was not a good thing.

This meant that the judges would have heard hundreds of violinists before his turn. No matter how beautiful a song was, after listening to them all day, it would make anyone frustrated. Unless all of them had reached a state of excellence.

“They shouldn’t have listened to every single song.” As if knowing exactly what Qi Mu was thinking, Min Chen pulled down his sunglasses and cast a glance around then calmly said, “There are many amateurs. Their skill is relatively low. The judges should only need to have listened to a bit before making a decision.”

What Min Chen said wasn’t wrong. After all, this was only a music festival, so most of the people were hobbyists. The announcement of New Ai’s recruitment was made yesterday. Even if professional musicians wanted to come, they had to book tickets from halfway across the globe, and that was impossible.

More than 90% of the people here today were amateur musicians. 9 out of 10 had never worked with an orchestra.

The youth’s light eyes lingered on a crying little girl for a while, then he nodded and said with a smile, “Yeah, I know. However, there are over 200 participants. . . I don’t know how long the audition will last.”

As it so happened, things went beyond Qi Mu’s expectations. The screening had only begun three hours ago, yet over half the participants were eliminated.

New Ai’s screening was quite cruel. The judging panel would give the musicians one of two judgments on the spot. It was either “Go” or “Stay.” If their result was “Stay,” they had made it to the final screening, but if it was “Go,” they had been directly eliminated.

As a result, out of the hundred or so people who went to audition, only two or three had received a “Stay.” The rest were eliminated.

Two out of the three were blond Europeans, and the third was Asian. Qi Mu had never heard them play, but judging from the thick calluses on their fingers, even if they were amateurs, these three’s skill should be good.

When it was someone’s turn, they went into the audition hall, and no one knew what kind of people were waiting for them. However, some would return with red eyes, looking as if they had suffered an injustice.

“Mr. Boswell. . . doesn’t seem like such a severe person?” Qi Mu said as he looked at another girl with red eyes. His delicate eyebrows raised slightly and he sighed, “That seems to be the 187th person.”

While waiting for his turn, Qi Mu and Min Chen walked around for a bit. They were surprised to find that most of the visitors were in the square where the recruitment was taking place. The rest was sparsely populated. By the time they returned, over a hundred people had already auditioned.

Min Chen looked over at the crying girl. She sniffled with a red nose and rushed into her mother’s arms, both crying and laughing at the same time. It was quite strange.

Min Chen opened his thin lips and whispered, “You know Allen Boswell?”

Qi Mu felt his heart tighten and he shook his head. “I. . . saw him conducting once. His style is gentle, so he didn’t seem to be the type that would be so severe with people.”

Music was the bridge between human nature and the outer world. Qi Mu always believed that a person who could play beautiful music couldn’t be a malicious person. When he had recommended Luo Yu Sen to Mr. Evra once, the older man had said to him, “I don’t like Luo’s style. It’s too narrow. You should be able to hear it, right?”

It wasn’t until he saw Luo Yu Sen’s real face that he understood what Mr. Evra meant.

Luo Yu Sen was not open-minded, and his mental view was too narrow. He naturally couldn’t play real music.

Min Chen frowned a bit at Qi Mu’s explanation but didn’t ask further. He looked at the youths talking with their companions, and a dark light flashed in his eyes. After a while, he said, “Allen’s temper is good when compared with others. At least, if the rehearsal goes wrong, he won’t be angry enough to scold a musician to tears.”

Qi Mu startled, then subconsciously asked, “. . . do you do that?”

Min Chen: “. . .”

His handsome face immediately blanked to a serious expression. He shook his head and said solemnly, “I am very kind.”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

Why do I get the feeling that your expression means the exact opposite of what you say?

Daniel, who was far away in Berlin, suddenly sneezed very loudly. It was so loud it stunned Bai Ai’s concertmaster who was leading the orchestra in a rehearsal. The man smiled and said, “Daniel, you will sneeze when the conductor isn’t around? If I let Auston know you dare make a sound while the orchestra is playing, then you. . .”

The chestnut haired concertmaster paused, and his expression revealed a gentle smile, “To quote Auston himself, ‘Please roll out of my rehearsal hall and take the bad voice that God bestowed unto you as a joke from the world.’”

The minute Kedori spoke, the usually stoic musicians on stage burst into laughter.

It seemed that he was in a good mood. Kedori immediately added, “Still dare to laugh?” He deliberately made his face look cold, imitating their conductor’s usual expression. Unfortunately, he couldn’t entirely mimic the three points of the iceberg temperament Min Chen usually carried, and this only made everyone laugh even harder.

The deputy concertmaster laughed then raised his hand, “Kedori, if we can’t laugh, then can we cry instead?”

Kedori was even more cheerful at this. He shook his head solemnly and said, “Did you forget what Auston said when he scolded Mary until she cried? ‘Swallow your tears and make sure your runny nose doesn’t drip on your cello.’”

. . . Like so, the conductor’s words were technically correct. He never made anyone cry. He just scared them to the point they didn’t dare even breathe.

As a certified gentleman, Min Chen never did anything that was detrimental to his demeanor. Even if he had trained his poisonous tongue to the highest level, he could speak eloquently and such that even if you couldn’t find the insult in his words, it would still sting.

All this, Qi Mu was told by other people later. But, he never saw that serious, terrible conductor, only a somewhat childish and awkward man.

It was currently late autumn, after all, and even if Hong Kong was tropical, the sun wouldn’t be bright by 4 pm. The setting sun colored the sky in radiant light, and that was when Qi Mu finally heard his number being called.

When he entered the hall, he barely reached the stage and could already see Allen Boswell sitting at the center of the five judges.

This conductor had a good temper. There was once a poll in the Danube forum which rated the world-class conductors on best tempers.

Allen Boswell was first place in that poll. Almost half the votes were for him, and the other for Mr. Dorenza. As for the bottom three? Well, that was a risky thing to mention, so it’s better left unsaid.

It was rare to see an Asian young man, so Boswell studied Qi Mu. Finally, he smiled, “You are somewhat familiar. Number 216. . . your name is Qi Mu, right?” He looked down at the form in his hand then back up at him. “I remember you. Eight years ago, you worked with Evra’s orchestra in Vienna.”

Qi Mu blinked, and his fine eyes widened, finding the man’s words somewhat hard to believe.

Before he could recover, the other judges laughed, and one said in English, “Allen, you just comforted a girl to the point she went to her mother in tears. Do you want this boy to cry too?”

“Yeah, Allen. Put away that sinful smile of yours, lest people have to say you’re a good man again and run away crying.”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

He finally understood why all those musicians were laughing and crying, creating such a weird scene. This man was gentle enough to make people want to cry. . . it was kind of extreme.

Boswell smiled helplessly and waved his hand. He looked at Qi Mu and said, “You understand English, right Qi Mu? I’m glad I am able to hear you play again. What will you play today?”

Qi Mu bowed and smiled politely, “Hello, Mr. Boswell. Yes, I cooperated with the Vienna Symphony Orchestra eight years ago. The song I will play today is Mahler’s 《The Boy’s Miraculous Horn》.”

Just as Qi Mu’s voice quieted, the judges gawked.

Everyone knew that New Ai was looking for a concertmaster to play Sibelius’ Symphony No. 1 so most people chose his works as their audition track. While it wasn’t like there was no one else selecting other songs, Qi Mu was the first to choose one of Mahler’s songs.

A female judge leaned over to Boswell and whispered, “Allen, are you looking after this boy and opening a back door for him?”

Boswell: “. . .”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

Translator(s): Kuro, Bet

Editor(s): Bet