111 Pressure (1/2)
Chapter 111: Pressure
Translator: Kris_LiuEditor: Vermillion
The crystal dome in the air created by divine power had disappeared, but people still remained on the square, lingering over the last piece of symphony named The War of Dawn.
Following the trend of theme music created by Symphony of Fate, Mr. Christopher’s latest music piece was definitely great.
”Comparatively speaking…” Sala was a bit hesitant, ”magnificent as The War of Dawn is, Symphony of Fate, to me, is still move impressive.”
Lilith nodded, ”Yes, I feel that the determination that Symphony of Fate carries is still stronger.” Then she frowned her brows and looked worried, ”But Mr. Christopher’s concert is still a great success. The concert tonight must have put even more pressure on Mr. Evans.”
”Mr. Evans will be fine…” Sala did not really know what to say, ”He won’t let us down.”
”Then what if he does?” Lilith raised her head, ”After all, Mr. Evans is competing with the president of the Musicians’ Association.”
Sala looked at his sister and sighed.
At the same time, on the top floor of the town hall Felicia released a long sigh, as if she was trying to drive away the worry and nervousness in her mind.
However, not everyone was feeling concerned about Lucien’s concert. Mekanzi was one of the exceptions, who was very excited after tonight’s concert, not really because of the great breakthrough that Mr. Christopher made in his late years, but because Mekanzi believed that the president’s awesome concert would absolutely pale Lucien’s performance on the following day by comparison.
...
The grand duke, the princess and other high-ranked nobles stayed in the Psalm Hall after the concert and right now they were talking to Mr. Christopher in a separate box, congratulating him for his great music achievement and regretting that he would hold no more concerts in the future.
The other nobles and musicians remained in their seats, exchanging their ideas about the concert.
”You’re now almost an expert in the field of theme music, Lucien.” Victor was impressed by Lucien’s interpretation of the first movement of The War of Dawn, ”I can tell you are shaping your own music style and ideas.”
”Thank you, Mr. Victor. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that I still have a long way to go before achieving that level,” answered Lucien humbly. ”What I was talking about was basically from Music Criticism and Symphony News. They produced a few quite insightful music reviews in the field of theme music in the past couple of months.”
In fact, all the music knowledge that Lucien was exchanging with Victor and Marcus was from his spirit library.
”Oh… I read those articles as well. Yes, they’re great as means of instruction,” agreed Marcus, but then he changed the subject, ”Do you feel stressed that your concert tomorrow will be compared with this perfect concert, Lucien?”
When Lucien was about to answer, Victor patted Marcus’ arm to stop him. Then, Victor said to Lucien, ”Never compare yourself with others. Do what you want to do.”
In fact, Victor himself was pretty worried that the piano solos tomorrow might not be able to provide enough music appeal to the audience, but he chose to trust his student.
Lucien was not as stressed as other people thought. Although he knew that his arrangement and repertoire of the concert was quite ahead of the mainstream, and the several pieces of piano solos might be a great risk, Lucien believed that only himself knew what he wanted.
”I’ll just try my best.” He nodded.
Then minutes later, the nobles started to leave the concert hall, followed by the musicians. Some nobles and musicians greeted Lucien in a sort of weird manner. Clearly, they were trying to avoid mentioning his concert tomorrow.
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It was April fifth, the last day of Aalto Music Festival.
At seven thirty in the evening, almost all the people in Aalto were gathering around the central square and on the streets nearby, waiting for the last concert.
Piola, Sharon and other band members arrived at the square in the early afternoon to secure a relatively good spot. Now they were surrounded by more and more people and more and more heated discussion.
Staring at the crystal dome, Piola murmured as if he was dreaming, ”I wish I could hold a concert here. I’d be willing to die for that.”
”Not really possible, unfortunately.” Green, the violist, shook his head and sighed, although he had the same dream in his mind.