Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 59

Chapter 59: Winter's Melody

The judges' panel for the final exam was comprised of nearly all the violin instructors in the academy.

As Banxia's name was announced, a murmur of discussion rippled through the panel.

"Is this the student who won the national competition?"

"Yes, Old Yu's star pupil."

"Rongyin hasn't had a strong showing in the Collegiate Cup for years. She's brought us some much-needed recognition."

"I missed the selection round. I'm looking forward to hearing her play."

But as Banxia began to play, the relaxed, expectant atmosphere quickly dissipated, replaced by a collective frown.

She's… not as good as I expected, many of them thought.

Several missed notes, her technique stiff and mechanical, the music devoid of emotion, like a soulless automaton going through the motions.

This is the Collegiate Cup gold medalist? they wondered, exchanging glances, then turning to look at Yu Anguo.

Yu Anguo's face was grim, his brow furrowed, his expression a clear warning to those who knew him: he was about to erupt.

On stage, Banxia stood in the spotlight, the audience below a sea of darkness, like the shadowy forest in her dream, countless eyes watching her from the shadows, her body weightless, her feet unsteady.

But her hands, trained through years of relentless practice, moved instinctively, her fingers finding the familiar positions on the strings, her bow raised, the music flowing, her body remembering what her mind had forgotten.

Bowing, fingering, vibrato, pizzicato… the rhythm was correct, the pitch perfect, the technique flawless, yet the music felt… empty.

Ling Dong… is he really gone?

No, she told herself. Xiao Lian is listening. He's listening to my music.

At that moment, few people would have understood Ling Dong's last words to her:

"In the final moment, I want to hear your music."

"It will make me happy. It will give me strength."

But Banxia understood. Instinctively, intuitively, her heart comprehending what her mind had yet to process.

If she were the one facing the unknown, she would want to hear his music too.

In the face of life and death, words were meaningless, inadequate.

Only their shared love for music, their intertwined souls, could express the inexpressible, their hearts beating in unison, a silent language that transcended words.

To leave this world to the sound of her music was his final wish.

And to grant him that wish, to send him off with her music, was her final act of love.

Below the stage, the judges exchanged glances.

Her playing, initially hesitant and uncertain, was now… improving, the music gaining momentum, the emotion slowly returning.

Yu Anguo's frown eased slightly.

Finally, he thought, his tense shoulders relaxing. That's more like it. What was that mess earlier? That girl… always keeping me on my toes.

The final exam required a fifty-minute performance. Most students chose two or three pieces.

Banxia's first piece was Mozart's Sonata in E minor.

Compared to the technically demanding works of Paganini and Rachmaninoff, Mozart was considered relatively easy.

That was why Yu Anguo had chosen it for her, hoping she would pass the exam without any… surprises.

But while completing a Mozart sonata wasn't difficult, playing it well, with the required emotional depth and nuance, was another matter.

The simpler the music, the more challenging it was to interpret, the more demanding the need for restraint and control, yet also for a genuine emotional connection.

For a true musician, Mozart was often the most challenging composer, not because of the technical difficulty, but because of the need to express profound emotions within a seemingly simple framework.

Control, Banxia thought. Control your emotions.

She took a deep breath, her wrist relaxing, her mind focusing, her bow drawing a pure, clear tone from the strings.

Are you listening, Xiao Lian?

This is for you.

As she played, she saw them again, the shimmering motes of light, swirling around her, gradually coalescing into a familiar form.

She didn't dare look directly at them.

In the shimmering light, she could almost see Xiao Lian, his small black body, his bright eyes, his tail wagging happily.

And then, the gecko was gone, replaced by Ling Dong, his skin pale as snow, his eyes dark as ink, a shy smile on his face as he watched her play.

Banxia smiled back, closing her eyes, losing herself in the music, her body and soul poured into the notes.

In the audience, Professor Zhao Zhilan, watching the young violinist bathed in the spotlight, felt a lump forming in her throat, her heart aching with an emotion she couldn't quite name.

What has this child been through? she wondered. How can she play with such depth, such sorrow?

As a violin professor, she had heard countless performances, but only those who had truly experienced life's joys and sorrows, its triumphs and tragedies, could play with such raw, heartfelt emotion.

Mozart's Sonata in E minor had been written after the death of his mother, a lament, a requiem, a poignant expression of grief and loss.

The young woman on stage stood motionless, her face pale, her playing restrained, yet the sadness emanating from her music was overwhelming, a wave washing over the audience, their hearts aching with a shared sorrow.

A farewell song, a song of mourning, a song of unspeakable loss.

As the music ended, tears flowed freely in the audience, a silent tribute, a more profound expression of appreciation than any applause.

Banxia stood there for a moment, her gaze fixed on the empty space before her, then bowed and walked backstage.

The fifty-minute performance wasn't over. After the intermission, she would play two more pieces.

During the break, the judges discussed her performance, their voices animated.

"A truly remarkable performance! I haven't heard a student play with such emotional depth in years!"

"Old Yu, you've outdone yourself! A true master!"

"We've had some excellent students today, but she's… exceptional. Rongyin used to be known only for its piano department. It seems our violin department is finally having its moment!""

The lively chatter didn't reach the quiet backstage area.

In the waiting room, Banxia stood before the empty table where Xiao Lian had been, his words echoing in her mind: "Go. I'll be watching you here."

But he was gone. The only trace of him a tiny, translucent glove, the shed skin from his hand, lying on the polished surface of the table.

The small room, empty and silent, the air heavy, the colors muted, the world outside fading away.

She didn't know how long she stood there, time stretching, then compressing, until a hand on her shoulder startled her.

"It's time for your next piece," a voice said gently.

She looked up, then carefully placed the tiny glove in her music folder and walked back onto the stage.

The audience, professors and students, greeted her with warm applause, their faces expectant.

"I'm looking forward to her next piece. What's she playing?"

"Let me see… the required sonata, and then… the concerto she played at the national competition, the Beethoven, right?"

"Why is she alone? A concerto and sonata… she should have an accompanist."

"I heard she couldn't find the time to rehearse and asked Professor Yu for permission to play alone. After all, she just returned from the national competition and has other exams to prepare for."

"It's a shame. Such a beautiful violin… it would be even better with an accompaniment."

Banxia stood in the spotlight, her violin raised.

Shang Xiaoyue, sitting in the audience, nudged Qiao Xin. "Doesn't Banxia look… unwell? She's so pale."

"It's… probably just the lighting," Qiao Xin said, wiping her tears with a tissue, her voice thick with emotion. "She does look a bit pale. But her first piece was incredible! I couldn't stop crying! I never knew she was so… amazing!"

Shang Xiaoyue frowned slightly.

There was something… unsettling about Banxia's appearance, as if she was pouring her life force into the music, a desperate, heart-wrenching performance.

But her eyes were bright, her hand steady, her demeanor calm, making it impossible to tell if she was simply… focused, or something more.

"What's she playing next?" Qiao Xin asked, looking at the program.

"Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D major. The one she played at the national competition."

As the music began, Shang Xiaoyue and Qiao Xin exchanged shocked glances.

That's not Beethoven!

The judges also looked at their programs, confused.

"Isn't she playing the Beethoven?"

"Why is she playing a different piece?"

"This is so unprofessional! Is that… Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons'?"

Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" consisted of four concertos: "Spring," "Summer," "Autumn," and "Winter."

The familiar melody filled the concert hall.

The first movement, "Spring," flowed from her violin.

Dark clouds gathering, thunder rumbling, then the rain stopping, the sun breaking through, spring arriving, the earth awakening, a shepherd sleeping peacefully under the trees, his flock grazing nearby, his faithful dog slumbering at his feet.

Xiao Lian, do you remember? The night we met, I was playing this song, she thought.

Then, the second movement, "Summer."

The scorching heat of summer, a restless, feverish sleep, a sudden thunderstorm, a traveler's journey home interrupted.

Ling Dong, entering my dreams, his cool, clear presence a balm for my troubled soul, accompanying me on my journey.

The third movement, "Autumn," the harvest concerto.

A celebration of abundance, the intoxicating joy of the harvest, then the dawn breaking, the hunt beginning, the desperate cries of the hunted echoing through the forest, the hunter's horn, the inevitable descent of the scythe.

"Is she going to play all four seasons? She looks… unwell," Zhao Zhilan whispered to Yu Anguo. "Should we stop her?"

Though the other judges seemed enthralled, applauding enthusiastically after each movement, Professor Zhao, her intuition sharp, felt a growing unease, the music too intense, too desperate, like a cry from the heart, a lament for something lost.

Though Banxia's face was calm, her movements controlled, her playing flawless, Professor Zhao sensed a deep sadness, a hidden grief.

She's grieving, she thought, but we're too caught up in the music to notice.

The joyful autumn harvest was ending.

The next movement was "Winter," the most famous of the four, a powerful, dramatic piece, the music evoking images of icy winds and swirling snow. Professor Zhao's unease intensified. She was worried Banxia wouldn't be able to finish, that she might collapse on stage.

She nudged Yu Anguo, hoping he would intervene.

Yu Anguo's brow was furrowed in a deep frown.

Banxia, always unconventional, prone to impulsive decisions, had taken him on a rollercoaster ride with her performance tonight, his heart pounding with a mixture of exasperation and… a grudging admiration.

Her initial hesitant playing, then the sudden, audacious change of program…

Any other student would have been severely reprimanded. But her playing, despite its unorthodoxy, its blatant disregard for the rules, was so captivating, so deeply moving, that even the most critical of the judges couldn't help but be impressed, feeling like they were witnessing the birth of a star.

She was infuriating, yet also… endearing.

Her music had a certain… magic, a rare quality that touched their hearts, even the most jaded and cynical of them.

But he knew her better than the others. He knew something was wrong.

She was playing with a frantic energy, a feverish intensity, as if she couldn't stop, as if the music was the only thing keeping her from… falling apart.

He decided that if she didn't pause before the final movement, he would stop her, even interrupt the performance, to make sure she was alright.

The music of autumn ended.

Banxia raised her bow again.

Her feet felt like they were floating, her body numb, yet her heart burned with an intensity that drove her forward, her music a lifeline, a desperate attempt to hold on to the illusion that Xiao Lian was still there, listening.

This is the last one, Xiao Lian, she thought. "Winter." Are you listening?

From the spring of their first encounter, through the summer of their passion, to this, the winter of their… parting.

Ling Dong's song.

Before her bow could touch the strings, a gasp rippled through the audience.

A door opened behind her, footsteps echoing on the stage.

A single piano note, a soft, resonant chord, like a gentle hand lifting her from a dream.

The first note of "Winter."

The piano!

It was the first snowflake of winter, the sound of the door opening, Ling Dong's footsteps approaching.

Banxia's eyes widened.

Behind her, the familiar melody of the piano, inviting her to join him, to play their song, their winter song, together.

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