Cultivation Online

The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra is the city’s most famous orchestra. Its headquarters is directly located in the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in the Musikverein building, next to the beautiful golden hall.

The orchestra has hundreds of members and has even established a member committee. The members decide all the major events, making them both fair and democratic.

Unlike the deputy recruitment of Wei Jiao, Wei Ai attached great importance to this recruitment session, and an ordinary registration would not be accepted. The applicants had to have a recommendation letter from a relevant musician, and only after a careful review would they even be qualified to register.

Because everyone within Wei Ai knew, this time… they were selecting the concertmaster.

The orchestra’s concertmaster was the most important person besides the conductor. To some extent, being Wei Ai’s concertmaster wasn’t much worse than Dorenza’s position. There was only one concertmaster while there were three conductors, and Dorenza was just the Chief Conductor.

Faced with such a significant event, Wei Ai’s members had to pay attention.

When Qi Mu arrived at the Musikverein building with his violin case. In addition to the media reporters who restricted access to the buildings, there were only five or six other violinists who came to the selection.

Countless reporters took photos. They would spot a participant and stop them, then throw questions at them until their heads were spinning.

Qi Mu looked at the congested group of journalists with his mouth curved in a smile and took a deep breath. He stepped forward a few paces and was spotted by a sharp-eyed reporter. “Ah! Are you holding a violin?! Are you also applying for the Wei Ai deputy concertmaster position today?!”

The beautiful man had a calm smile as he shook his head. “I am a member of Wei Ai’s second violin group, Little Seven.” His fluent German was elegant. His expression was calm.

The reporters nodded one after another. There were hundreds of members within Wei Ai, they could hardly be expected to recognize everyone.

Then, the reporters created a path for Qi Mu. He passed through the gates leisurely when a reporter suddenly exclaimed, “Eh, I just remembered! Isn’t that… Qi Mu! I interviewed him in Paris before. Damn, did he come to apply for the position?”

The reporters descended into a wave of wails, but the man in question had already entered Wei Ai’s headquarters with a smile on his face. Guided by a staff member, he stepped into the lounge to prepare.

Wei Ai’s recruitment session was an organized, formal affair, and each participant had their own prep room, just in case something happened.

After Qi Mu took his violin out of its case and wiped it down with rosin, a male staff member with a blank expression brought in a lottery box.

Qi Mu randomly selected a paper and looked down. There was only a simple track name written on the white scrap.

The staff observed him and said, “Mister, you’re the third performer. Please prepare this song. After the second performance is over, I will come to the lounge to find you.”

Qi Mu smiled. “Alright, thank you, Roman. Just call me Little Seven.”

Roman was a bit surprised to hear his name, but he glanced down at the ID hanging around his neck and smiled at Qi Mu. With this, the cold, estranged expression faded from his face, and he became quite friendly.

Roman left Qi Mu alone in the spacious prep room. He looked down at the note in his hand and said, helplessly, to himself, “If it’s this piece… then even if I didn’t practice it, it shouldn’t make any difference, right?”

Qi Mu had prepared over a dozen of Beethoven’s pieces over the past five days, but he never thought his luck would be so good to select such a well-known song.

If he hadn’t even practiced this song, it would go without saying Dorenza would be disappointed. Much else, Qi Mu was afraid even Dylan would laugh at him.

En… still, what good luck.

Sometime later, the melody spilled out of the preparation room. While the soundproofing kept the violin from spilling into the room next door, Roman, standing by the door, nodded appreciatively.

When it was Qi Mu’s turn on stage, he bowed to the audience, then looked up and found all five of the judges in the front row were his old acquaintances.

In the middle was the Chief Conductor, Dorenza. The gentle maestro nodded at him.

On either of Dorenza’s sides were the two other conductors; the second conductor Colin Motl and the third conductor Nazyat Pavlovsky. To the far left was the temporary concertmaster, Anthony, and on the far right was Wei Ai’s agent, Tuckerman.

These five represented the top crust of Wei Ai and the entire orchestra committee.

The most important thing Qi Mu remembered was… he seemed to get along well with these five people in his last life?

The lineup for today’s audition was indeed a good thing because he believed the next piece he played would definitely make them happy.

After a polite bow, Qi Mu introduced himself with a smile, “Mr. Dorenza, Mr. Motl, Mr. Nazyat, Mr. Anthony, and Mr. Tuckerman, I am Qi Mu. The song I’ll play today is the third movement of Beethoven’s 《Violin Concerto in D major》.”

There was no unnecessary drivel in his concise opening remark, and this young man’s capable appearance made the orchestra agent look at him more closely. This was the kid Dorenza mentioned? Well, compared with the first two that began to introduce their past achievements as soon as they started speaking, this was good.

Tuckerman nodded. “Good, Qi Mu, we just listened to two sonorous songs in a row, you must make this cheerful.”

Qi Mu nodded. The corners of his mouth raised a little.

The first two participants selected sad songs? Today, it looked like his luck was really too much.

Putting aside any further nonsense, after Dorenza’s “Let’s begin,” Qi Mu tugged along the bow of his violin, and the first note burst free.

With the first light note, the entire concert hall was filled to bursting with spring flowers and fresh grass. The intoxicatingly earthy scent of spring touched the audience, as was the rare ease and joy of Beethoven.

The 《Violin Concerto in D major》 was Beethoven’s only violin concerto. Alongside Tchaikovsky’s and Brahams’ 《Violin Concerto in D major》, and Mendelssohn’s 《Concerto in E Minor》, they were collectively known as the four major violin concerts of the world. And as the first to be deemed worthy of the four concertos, it was also known as——

The world’s king of violin concertos.

Dorenza once said he didn’t like Beethoven’s 《Fur Elise》 because, to him, although the piece tried its best to express the inner longing with its most beautiful, euphemistic tune, it was still laced with Beethoven’s stubbornness.

But, this 《D Major》 was an exception!

Songs that could be called the kings of music were few. They were tested for hundreds of years, performed by hundreds of famous maestros, conductors, and eventually won everyone’s recognition and praise.

Beethoven was sad and indignant, but 《D Major》 was joyous.

Like a blazing flame, it condensed the best feelings of the world between four small violin strings. Every note was like an angel’s voice, the very sound of God!

And now, during this superb and skillful performance, this third movement caused the second conductor, Motl, to furrow his brows.

If Dorenza liked Beethoven the most, then Motl’s favorite was Mozart. Motl believed Beethoven was a musician who wanted to express his emotions too much, and his music was always laden with strong sorrow, depressing the audience.

Of course, had Motl never heard 《D Major》?

That was impossible.

But, he had never heard someone play 《D Major》 so vicariously!

He watched the young man’s slender fingers press back and forth on the strings, each one repeating its theme, and every note seeming to pour from the stage.

The melody was brisk, and the sun was bright as it shone upon the youth, reflecting the vigor and vitality that only the young had.

Everyone in the world could understand Beethoven’s grief. But Beethoven’s pleasure was only understood by a few.

The musician was born into poverty, and his parents passed away when he needed them the most. He was struck hard and encountered setbacks on the road of love. The maestro remained unmarried his entire life, and when sickness struck him down in his later years, Beethoven passed away in pain.

When Beethoven passed, all the schools in Vienna closed, and nearly 20,000 people attended his funeral to send him to his eternal slumber inside the earth. Engraved on his tombstone was an inscription by the Austrian poet Grillparzer——

『When you stand before his coffin, you should not feel discouraged. What you should feel is not despondency, but a noble spirit; the only thing we can say about such a person is: He had a great career.』

This was Beethoven, a person who was once considered by Lance as similar to Qi Mu, but was now completely different.

And in this moment, if Lance were to listen to Qi Mu’s 《D Major》 again, he would not believe that this child could feel so relaxed and happy——

The pleasure to be free from sadness and pain.

Without seeing the deepest darkness, how could one understand the brightest light?

Qi Mu’s eyes lowered, and with a flip of his hand, the tune turned into a long, beautiful overtone. He completed a smooth, four-string exchange, and three scales of melody flowed out!

Motl, sitting under the stage, felt his hand gradually pull into a fist. He stared blankly at the young man on the stage. He’d clearly just heard the moan of a crying cub, but why now…

Could it be this exciting?

Could it be, he had always misunderstood Beethoven?

The 《D Major》 had never been a purely happy song, as it hid the most profound of emotions behind laughter. It placed Beethoven’s rare positivity and happiness in its listeners’ ears?!

What kind of tolerance was this!

The fierce song entered its climax, each note trembling and leaping aside, each difficult legato sounding easily under the bow. The rhythm was wonderful and clear.

Then——

The song plummeted sharply!

Even Dorenza suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the youth on stage in horror.