Chapter 36 (2/2)

Qi Mu turned to look at the celebrity column, but when he saw the words on it, he suddenly froze.

Qi Mu: “. . .”

It turns out the thing you’re looking at so intently is your own achievements. . .

Every square looked similar, and he was not in the mood to look around while he was waiting for his audition. He was, thus, unaware that this was the square they visited on the first day of the festival – the one with the celebrity column for Mr. Auston Bertram, the conductor of Bai Ai.

In fact, Min Chen had noticed Qi Mu walking over earlier but refused to turn his gaze away and was still reading each word carefully.

After a while, Min Chen suddenly lifted his head and said solemnly, “The person who selected this song wasn’t careful enough. My performance at the Sydney Opera House was on October 30th last year, not the 29th.”

“. . .”

After a long silence, Qi Mu couldn’t help but pose the question, “Perhaps the person who selected this song and the person who wrote the column text. . . are not the same person?”

Min Chen: “. . .”

The atmosphere dropped several degrees, and Qi Mu walked to the edge of the square with Min Chen in tears. But, before long, almost all the participants finished their auditions, and there were no more than ten musicians to get a “stay,” but the number of people in the square hadn’t decreased in the slightest.

Because all of them wanted to know who would win the first place and have the opportunity to work with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

Qi Mu lifted his violin case and stood up to wait for the results to be announced. This time, it was not the judges who came out of the concert hall but, instead, it was the festival’s official that returned with a microphone. The good looking staff stood beside the celebrity column in the center of the square and cleared their throat.

“The Hong Kong Sea Music Festival welcomes all guests! Today, the recruitment for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra’s interim concertmaster has been finalized. There were many strong participants, and the judges had a lot to say, but I will now announce the final results.”

The beautiful woman knew that leaving people hanging was bad, so without preamble, she said in fluent English, “Today, the person who will have the opportunity to work with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra is Mr. Qi Mu who performed 《Little Rhine Legend》.”

“Qi Mu. . .? That sounds Chinese.”

“I’ve never heard of him. Is he a dark horse?”

. . .

The people searched the square for the lucky person. Meanwhile, Qi Mu let out a sigh of relief, and the tension in his body relaxed.

Qi Mu could easily have guessed the results. There were a pitiful number of professionals here, and most were amateurs. Even if there were professional musicians here, Qi Mu didn’t see any familiar faces, so they weren’t of any challenge.

Qi Mu’s only concern was on how to do his best.

“Mr. Qi Mu, if you are still present, please register your contact information with us. The orchestra will contact you later.”

Without any fluctuation in his expression, Qi Mu took his case and walked straight towards the staff member, wanting to submit his information. When the people saw Qi Mu walking forward, they pinned their eyes on him, but Qi mu continued to walk forward calmly.

Just as he was about to hand over the card containing his contact information, a voice suddenly rang out, “How is this possible? I am a substitute for the Myrtle Symphony Orchestra. How could some Chinese person possibly beat me?”

There was silence, and the people were surprised to see an angry, white man standing in the crowd.

His face was flushed with anger, and he walked towards Qi Mu and the staff. He spoke as he walked, “I will be in a regular position starting next year. How can this Chinese beat me? I refuse to accept this. Did he cheat because this is Hong Kong?” He deliberately emphasized the word “Chinese.”

His remark was so drastic that the staff’s face turned cold.

Qi Mu remained calm. He looked at this impulsive white man up and down and said, “Why. . . do you think that the Chinese cannot beat you, sir?”

The man grunted in disgust, and Qi Mu just calmly looked at him.

The man sneered and said, “Is there any decent classical musician in Huaxia? The members of the Huaxia Philharmonic Orchestra are worse than us at the Myrtle Symphony Orchestra. How can you compare to me? You Chinese people have no musical genes in your blood.”

These words finally made Qi Mu’s expression change.

But he restrained his anger with great effort and let out a huff. He said with an aggravated tone, and a terrible expression, “This gentleman, do you even know what you’re talking about?”

The racism that was engraved in his bones was unaffected by Qi Mu’s words. The man disdainfully said, “Are there any masters amongst you Chinese? I’ve never heard of any. You Chinese people don’t have such elegant musical genetics. You Chinese people. . .”

“It seems. . . that I am not a great master?”

That low, magnetic voice suddenly echoed from the crown, mellow as a cello. It was not loud, but people automatically turned in its direction.

At the point where the crowd met, a tall man removed the sunglasses on his nose. He calmly walked towards the prejudiced white man, each step imbued with innate nobility.

During his journey forward, the handsome but indifferent man removed the wide velvet hat from his head with one hand and rested it against his chest, the greeting courteous and befitting of a gentleman.

His cold, sharp expression did not fluctuate, and he indifferently stared at the white man who now donned a stupid expression and said in a flat voice:

“I’m Chinese. Maybe I am. . . not truly a master.”

*Can I squeal?