Chapter 89 (2/2)

What Dorenza spoke of, Qi Mu somewhat knew. . .

Precisely who “my friend” was.

Qi Mu’s heart tightened painfully. He just smiled and nodded, “It’s a pity, I didn’t expect this gentleman already passed away. . . I’m sorry, Mr. Dorenza, for reminding you of something so sad.”

Dorenza chuckled and shook his head. “It’s fine. Seven, that kid was a fantastic violinist. If you can listen to his albums, maybe you will harvest something.”

Qi Mu nodded, “Yes. By the way, Mr. Dorenza, you. . .”

“Dorenza, it turns out you’re here talking to our Angel secretly?” A cheerful voice came from behind Qi Mu. He turned his head and saw a middle-aged man with a beard come over. “I was wondering where you were, turns out you’re hiding here.”

Dorenza just shook his head and said with a wry smile, “Zayev, I wanted to have a chat with Reed’s student. Where did you think I was?”

This was Lyon Zayev, the concertmaster of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. This violinist was in his early 50’s, but he looked healthy, energetic, and younger than his age. His personality was bright and friendly, so his reputation in the music circle was also good.

Qi Mu could only face this musician with a smile, “Mr. Zayev, my name is not Angel. My name is…”

“Huh? Didn’t Mr. Farrell call you Angel before? When he visited the orchestra last month, he specifically mentioned you and said you were a lovely little angel.” Zayev said earnestly.

Qi Mu: “…”

Farrell was really working tirelessly on his path creating a black history for him!

How much money did he owe Farrell in his last life!!!

With the participation of a cheerful chatterbox, the atmosphere became even livelier.

When Qi Mu left the hotel, Dorenza told him he was welcome to visit anytime.

The proposal was unanimously agreed upon by the members of the orchestra. They believed such a good and clever child could improve their aesthetic if he came over every day.

When Qi Mu got into the taxi and left, Dorenza looked at the departing cab and couldn’t help sigh out loud, “His and Lu’s violin. . . is similar but he’s even better than Lu. Now that this child is already excellent, the music world in the future will be lively, right?”

Zayev, standing at his side, looked at Dorenza in surprise and asked, “Dorenza, you think of Little Seven. . . this highly?”

Mr. Dorenza smiled and nodded, “Yes, Zayev. Don’t you think. . . If he had graduated from college, wouldn’t many excellent orchestras clamor for him to join? He’s excellent. Reed is lucky to have him as a student.

Zayev’s eyes widened, and he asked in disbelief, “Dorenza, aren’t you thinking a little too much? It’s his luck to be Reed’s student, right?”

Dorenza shook his head and refuted, “Zayev, wait and see. Three years at most. . . You will understand his strength, I think. Age has never been a measure for musical skill. Look at Christole, he’s also an excellent child. You can’t think too highly of yourself. Young blood is important to our classical music, ah!”

Dorenza didn’t dwell on the topic, but Zayev still pondered carefully with a frown. After Dorenza got in his car and left, Zayev walked alone in the empty streets of Vienna and whispered to himself:

“He’s just a child. . . how far can he go?”

“Dorenza’s really thought too much, how can there be so many Christole’s in this world. . .”