Chapter 124: What Does This Piece Really an?
"Boy, I told you to stop wasting ti on TikTok. Are you even listening?"
"Can't you watch sothing more enriching?"
In the courtyard.
Tong Tai sat in his rocking chair, enjoying the shade. Glancing up, he spotted his grandson Wang Ming swaying back and forth with excitent while glued to a tablet. He couldn't help but voice his disapproval.
As one of the distinguished composers from Qingjiang Province in the last century, the seventy-six-year-old Tong Tai held an esteed position in the province's music scene. Known for his sharp eye, cutting remarks, and active presence on social dia—where he kept pace with younger generations' tastes—he boasted a following of two hundred thousand fans on Weibo.
He was the kind of elder who could mingle effortlessly in both older and younger circles.
Proud of his own achievents, Tong Tai set high standards for his descendants. However, his university-going grandson Wang Ming showed no sign of inheriting his musical talent.
After all, they were a family of musicians. At least watch so refined content, sothing deep and aningful to cultivate his taste. But no—he wouldn't listen.
Every day, he'd sit across from him, clutching that tablet, endlessly scrolling through short videos.
And now, here he was again, acting like a maniac.
"Heh, heh." Wang Ming sprawled on his chair, eyes fixed on the screen, chuckling like an idiot.
Tong Tai's forehead furrowed into three deep lines.
Probably ogling so gorgeous girl again? Tong Tai knew today's youth weren't shy about showing skin.
The fact that his grandson was giggling this much ant whatever he was watching must be quite stimulating.
"Ho ho ho." Wang Ming let out another obnoxious laugh.
"..."
"What are you looking at, boy?"
Unable to bear it any longer, Tong Tai stood up from his chair. He was determined to see what had so thoroughly captivated his grandson.
Marching over, he leaned in to peer at the tablet screen.
On the screen—
A girl bowed her head, playing the cello in a classically decorated room while a boy accompanied her on the piano.
"?" Tong Tai's eyes widened in disbelief. "When did you suddenly develop good taste?"
His grandson—the sa slacker who skipped classes and refused to flip through the Four Great Classical Novels—was now watching this?
He rembered trying several tis to force Wang Ming to learn music, only to et stubborn resistance.
"Huh? You wouldn't understand. I've been following this creator for ages," Wang Ming waved dismissively, grinning ear to ear.
Wait—wasn't this just a music video?
Why was his grandson laughing like a lunatic?
Tong Tai didn't get it.
Could it be...
So sort of narrative-driven piece?
Perhaps the bow would play a pivotal role later?
After all, young people these days watched all sorts of strange things—it wasn't entirely out of the question.
Hands clasped behind his back, Tong Tai stood behind Wang Ming, ready to see how the video unfolded.
By the ti he arrived, the video had already looped back to its second playthrough.
Soon enough, the music began.
"~"
The first note erged, ghostlike and haunting.
Tong Tai's brows knitted together.
Sothing about it felt... different.
The sound seed to drift in from the distant depths of ti, carrying an ethereal loneliness—as though an old man wandered alone on a desolate plain at dusk. Each step resonated directly with the listener's heart, evoking an inexplicable sense of sorrow.
What a lody.
Just one asure was enough to tug at Tong Tai's emotions.
"Turn it up, boy! Louder!"
He smacked Wang Ming on the head.
Startled, Wang Ming jerked upright, clutching his throbbing skull. Normally, his grandfather insisted he keep the volu low when using external speakers so as not to disturb him.
But now, obediently, Wang Ming cranked the volu to max.
The music filled the entire courtyard.
"..."
The notes grew denser, piling up like storm clouds before a tempest, pressing down on the soul.
The vibrato technique imbued each note with nuanced emotional shifts. At tis, the tone was piercing, like needles pricking hidden wounds within the spirit. Other tis, it dipped low, heavy as a sigh, recounting life's hardships and sorrows.
What skillful playing.
Such mastery!
Not only was the composition brilliant, but the perforrs were equally exceptional.
Listening to this piece, Tong Tai couldn't help but marvel aloud.
What kind of experiences had the composer endured to create such heart-wrenching lancholy?
Even Tong Tai's own heart felt gripped by an invisible hand, trembling slightly with the ebb and flow of the lody.
Lost in thought, he strolled around the yard, stepping over fallen leaves as the sun dipped below the horizon.
As the piece progressed, a profound sense of desolation spread.
It was as if one stood amidst ruins, surrounded by broken walls and the scars of war, where past prosperity and hope had been obliterated.
Yet, within this boundless grief, Tong Tai sensed sothing else.
This piece carried a faint undertone of philosophical reflection on life—a force seeking light in darkness, hope in despair.
"..."
Long after the music ended, the haunting yet ethereal lody lingered in Tong Tai's mind, refusing to fade.
"Amazing, truly amazing."
Retired for several years, Tong Tai hadn't encountered such profoundly moving music since attending important competitions.
He was certain: He'd never heard this piece before. Without a doubt, it was new.
Who was the composer behind this masterpiece? How could such an outstanding work have escaped his notice recently? That brat actually found sothing this refined! Even soone as well-connected as himself hadn't heard of it.
Perhaps he'd been too harsh on his grandson. Maybe Wang Ming simply needed encouragent. With a proud smile, Tong Tai approached once more.
However, his grandson had already started the third loop of the video. And again, he burst into giggles.
"Why are you laughing while listening to music?" Finally, Tong Tai realized sothing was off.
This was clearly a performance video, and the piece itself was profoundly sorrowful. Yet this boy… why was he giggling like he'd stumbled upon so glamorous influencer? His laughter just wouldn't stop.
"No, Grandpa, you don't get it. Look closer—"
Wang Ming pointed at the perforrs on the screen.
"Heh, don't you think they look great together?"
"..."
"..."
Tong Tai fell silent.
This seventy-sothing-year-old artist, a composer who had received countless accolades in his lifeti, a staunch defender of classical music—was now pierced through the heart by his grandson's words.
"You brat! Such an incredible piece, and you're not even listening to it. Instead, you're sitting here judging whether they're a good match?!"
"Stop ssing around. Go clean the yard—now!"
With that thunderous outburst, Wang Ming shot up from his chair like a startled rabbit.
"But even if you make listen, I still wouldn't understand!" Wang Ming whined, his voice laced with both grievance and indignation.
However, one sharp glare from Tong Tai sent him scurrying off to grab a broom.
Tong Tai reclaid the tablet and replayed the video.
"Moonlight and Cat."
The na sounded familiar.
Ah, yes. He rembered now.
So ti ago, he'd praised a cellist nad Gan Yanyu on Weibo. She'd gained attention after performing the works of Moonlight and Cat during a concert. So this was a duo: "Moonlight" handled composition and piano, while "Cat" played the cello?
No, wait.
He scrutinized the perforr credited as "Cat." As a seasoned critic, Tong Tai possessed an uncanny ability to observe musicians. The way this "Cat" played—the imrsive style, the overwhelming emotional pull—it matched Gan Yanyu perfectly.
So that was it. This must be her.
But what truly excited Tong Tai wasn't Gan Yanyu.
It was the other half of the duo—"Moonlight."
If his hunch was correct, this "Moonlight" might very well be the unassuming high school pianist who accompanied Gan Yanyu.
"Youth is truly the birthplace of heroes," Tong Tai murmured, deeply moved.
What kind of experiences had this young man endured to write such a sorrowful piece? If not war, perhaps the loss of family or loved ones? But the inner world of a genius was hard to fathom.
As a fellow composer, Tong Tai felt a mix of pride for Zhonghua's music scene and a pang of inadequacy. Thinking of his own university-going grandson only deepened that sense of defeat. Many excellent composers were lucky to leave behind one or two tiless masterpieces in their lifetis—and even Tong Tai himself could count his achievents on one hand.
Yet here was this "Moonlight," still just a high schooler, already achieving heights others could only dream of.
Thankfully, Moonlight and Cat had amassed over two million followers online. It proved that this classical composer's talent hadn't been buried by modern trends—a thought that brought Tong Tai imnse relief.
Entering the professional music world was likely just a matter of ti for them.
But then again…
Thinking back to his grandson's earlier reaction made Tong Tai bristle with frustration.
Perhaps many viewers were like him—ignoring the brilliance of the music entirely, obsessing instead over trivial matters like whether the perforrs looked good together. Imagining himself in their shoes almost gave him a headache.
Without delay, he retreated to his study, opened his computer, and began typing feverishly.
---
After the release of E Minor Cello Concerto by Moonlight and Cat on Bilibili and TikTok, discussions erupted across the internet as usual. However, this ti felt different. While so continued their predictable chatter about the duo's relationship dynamics, others approached the piece with genuine curiosity.
"Wow, Moonlight really went all out this ti. I can't make heads or tails of it."
"Can soone knowledgeable—like a music student—explain what this piece is trying to depict?"
"I'm studying music, and even I don't get it."
"It feels so oppressive, like a deeply tragic piece. But ask to describe it further? Nope, I'm lost."
Of course, there were also fans who claid to have grown up listening to Moonlight's works and believed their musical appreciation had matured. They ventured bold interpretations:
"I think it's about a knight protecting a princess, sacrificing himself for her. Doesn't the powerful the at the start sound like the knight undergoing training and pledging loyalty? And later, the variation sounds like the princess singing in gratitude—so romantic!"
"Too small-minded. What if you replace ‘knight' with ‘soldier' and ‘princess' with ‘nation'?"
The online discussion raged on, eventually propelling the topic "What story does E Minor Cello Concerto tell?" onto the trending charts. Much like how Marvel movie releases sparked debates about Easter eggs and comic lore, this conversation leaned far more refined.
Nurous bloggers posted videos sharing their takes on the piece—until a heavyweight entered the fray.
In an overlooked corner of the internet, renowned composer Tong Tai published a new Weibo post. Its content? A reflection on E Minor Cello Concerto.
Title: A Journey Through the Soul
"Friends who know are aware that I usually avoid comnting on compositions to prevent conflicts of interest—I stick to critiquing performances. But this ti, I encountered sothing truly remarkable: Moonlight's E Minor Cello Concerto, shared via TikTok."
"At first listen, it felt like hearing an ethereal, sorrowful voice echoing from ages past, evoking an inexplicable sense of grief. It conjured images of war-torn landscapes, lives struggling under oppression."
"On repeated listens, I sensed a force seeking light in darkness, hope amid despair. The second movent's variations? Exquisite beyond words."
"A masterpiece, truly. These impressions are based solely on my personal experience; feel free to discuss further. I wholeheartedly recomnd this piece to everyone."
The post imdiately drew massive attention.
Whoa, a critique from a pro! Now we had to believe it.
For those who'd guessed thes of "war" or "nation," it was like nailing the final question on a college entrance exam—they were ecstatic.
"See? I told you listening to Moonlight's music every day would improve your taste eventually!"
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