King of Classical Music 104

Europe was the second smallest continent in the world, only a bit larger than Oceania. Although it was small, its 44 sovereign states gave it quite a dense population.

The fact it was small meant the distance between places wasn’t that far. Berlin and Dresden were less than 200 km apart, for example. Qi Mu had just boarded the flight, and a few minutes later, the plane had landed.

Qi Mu: “. . .”

The man beside him took his luggage very considerately, turned to look at him, and asked attentively, “There’s nothing special going on at Bai Ai today. Do you want to look around first? Brandenburg Gate and Unter den Linden are nearby.”

The weather was slightly colder than Dresden. Qi Mu only wore a long thin coat and tied it around his waist in case the temperature at night would get too cold. 

Originally, he thought his visit to Berlin just consisted of going to Bai Ai. But at Min Chen’s suggestion, he became interested in the city and asked, “Is it convenient?”

Min Chen put on his sunglasses and nodded gently, “Yes, my car is parked here. We can go right away.”

Qi Mu just smiled and said, “Then let’s go.”

Qi Mu had been to Berlin before, but it was always on trips with the orchestra.

Though Berlin was only 600 km from Vienna, half the distance between B City and S City, Qi Mu never had the time to visit by himself.

Min Chen nodded slightly, then pushed up his sunglasses. He then continued forward, pulling the suitcase.

Qi Mu was quite surprised by this as he hadn’t seen the man acting like this in Dresden.

Noticing the youth’s confusion, Min Chen whispered in Chinese, “Most people in Berlin know me, so it’s not as convenient to walk outside here like it is in Dresden.”

Qi Mu nodded understandingly. After all, Bai Ai was one of the most outstanding orchestras, representing Germany’s classical music at its peak. Because their base was in Berlin, it was normal for a lot of people to know their chief conductor.

However, even if Qi Mu thought this was the case, seeing a young woman looking in their direction, Qi Mu still felt a little shocked. He asked, a little perplexed, “There are many people in Dresden who knows Mr. Farrell, but. . . I’ve never seen Mr. Farrell being treated so drastically. . .”

Min Chen halted. He turned to the youth and lifted his sunglasses slightly, revealing his pair of sharp eyes. Staring at Qi Mu seriously, he said plainly, as if talking about the weather, “It’s because. . . I’m handsome.”

Qi Mu: “. . . . . .”

Can you not be such a narcissist!!!

. . .

Brandenburg Gate was in the center of Berlin. At the end of the eastern side of Unter den Linden boulevard was Schlossbrücke, also known as the Marx-Engels-Platz.

In the quiet car, although the windows were tinted dark, Qi Mu still watched the neoclassical architectural solemn gate from afar. But to his surprise, the car sped past the magnificent gate without any signs of stopping.

Qi Mu turned his head in surprise and asked, “We’re not stopping?”

Min Chen caressed the steering wheel, and calmly said, “My house is nearby, let’s drop off the luggage first.”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

Why did he feel like. . . he’d been duped?

But Qi Mu wasn’t left waiting for long this time. Min Chen really just set the luggage in the garage downstairs and brought him to the Brandenburg Gate, Unter den Linden and other famous scenic spots in Berlin.

Qi Mu wasn’t in the habit of taking pictures, so he simply recorded these beautiful sceneries in his memory. But, when he turned around and looked up, he didn’t notice since when, but the man beside him had been snapping pictures of him while he was unaware.

Thanks to the power of cell phones nowadays, people could take pictures silently.

It didn’t take them long to walk from the Brandenburg Gate to the Unter den Linden boulevard. Soon after, they arrived at Bai Ai’s headquarters.

Perhaps influenced by German’s Bauhaus architecture, Bai Ai’s HQ was different from Wei Ai’s and Dresden Symphony Orchestra’s. The building was modern in style with a strong sense of aesthetics.

The streamlined edge surprised Qi Mu, who stood downstairs for a long time. The bright orange and beige contrasted with style. It was Qi Mu’s first time coming to Bai Ai, so he didn’t expect this. . .

The world’s top old-style orchestra had such an “avant-garde” building as its headquarters.

Under Min Chen’s guidance, Qi Mu easily entered the building.

Walking into this simple yet concise building, Qi Mu felt as if he had entered an exhibition art hall of modernist style.

On both sides of the transparent corridor framed by four-sided glass, there were pictures of past Bai Ai members including information on their conductors and concertmasters. These photos ranged from oil paintings to black and white photographs to today’s colored ones, bearing witness to the heavy history of this centuries-old orchestra.

Qi Mu looked at these pictures and arrived at the last few before he abruptly stopped. He stared at the white-haired old man in the photograph in a daze.

“This picture was taken two years before Master Karajan’s death,” Min Chen’s magnetic voice chimed in Qi Mu’s ear, the warm breath he exhaled was a bit unstable, betraying his thoughts, “I was only 4 when he died, it was the same year he resigned from Bai Ai.”

Qi Mu had just entered the Geneva Conservatory of Music when he discovered Bai Ai’s motto of “never change until death.” The world’s number one symphony orchestra had the best mastery of music and was extremely demanding when hiring.

But now, seeing the picture of a man who was old but still wore a stern expression, Qi Mu felt nothing but admiration.

Herbert von Karajan, a musician also known as the “conductor emperor.”

During the 34 years of his career as a conductor, the man brought the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, which had always been at the top, even higher, becoming a behemoth in the classical music world. A reputation that was still maintained today.

Looking at the maestro’s picture, Qi Mu sighed, “Unfortunately, Master Karajan died when you were 4. I guess you’ve never met him. . .”

“No, I did.”

Qi Mu turned to Min Chen in surprise. The latter just stared at him. “When I was 4, I followed my parents to a Bai Ai concert and met Master Karajan backstage.” Under Qi Mu’s expectant gaze, Min Chen recalled the moment then continued, “He was. . . a very serious maestro.”

Qi Mu smiled then nodded in response, “Well, his style was the same.” The young man couldn’t stop himself from sighing softly and said in disappointment, “Unfortunately. . . I can’t hear his concert live.”

Seeing the young man’s lost expression, the handsome, indifferent-looking man squinted slightly. After a while, he pointed at the picture next to the maestro’s and said, “But you can listen to his.”

Qi Mu immediately looked in the direction Min Chen was pointing and. . .

“. . .”

Min Chen said solemnly, “His style is also excellent, and you can also listen to pieces of his own composition.” The man’s tone was somber as if he was talking about something vital, “Well, he composes his own scores and conducts them himself, and only he can understand the meaning of the pieces best.”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

A staff member of Bai Ai just happened to pass by and heard Min Chen’s serious words and couldn’t help bursting out in laughter. Min Chen calmly glanced at the person, and the staff immediately straightened up and walked away with a blank expression.

Qi Mu didn’t even look at the photo of the “conductor who could compose his own piece” and skipped directly to the empty picture frame beside it. He was surprised for a moment and said, “Strange. . . Shouldn’t Christole’s picture be here?”

Min Chen replied with a disappointed expression, “His picture is there.”

Qi Mu turned to look, and as expected, the picture of Christole was set directly opposite the blank frame.

Although Bai Ai adhered to their principle of “unchanging till death,” this didn’t mean a conductor was allowed only one concertmaster. Things were changeable after all. Therefore, Min Chen and Christole, the orchestra’s current principal conductor and concertmaster’s pictures were not placed side by side, but opposite each other instead.

Qi Mu looked at Christole’s photo and information for a while then walked away. But after taking two steps, he found the man who was supposed to follow his lead hadn’t moved.

Qi Mu turned to search for him only to find the man still standing in the same spot with a calm, unperturbed expression, looking at him from afar. When the young man turned to him, he asked in a very calm, low voice, “Really. . . don’t need to see?”

Qi Mu: “. . .”

After Qi Mu patiently saw the man’s picture and his information, Min Chen took him to the orchestra’s rehearsal hall, looking satisfied.

As they walked, Qi Mu looked at the cool, elegant man. It was difficult to associate this man with the childish fellow just now.

With a helpless smile, Qi Mu whispered, “Actually, I don’t need to look at that information because. . . I’ve already remembered it long ago.”

Min Chen’s footsteps came to a still. After a long while, he just let out a low hum. His handsome face still wore a calm expression, but his lips were slightly upturned, betraying his obvious happiness.

Brilliant sunshine radiated through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside was a relaxed afternoon panorama. Qi Mu followed Min Chen down the corridor for a while, and they finally arrived at the end.

Beyond this door was Bai Ai’s rehearsal hall. 

Qi Mu entered the headquarters of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra for the first time on August 2, 2016.