amaotonovel Chapter 297 [Empire] People on the Stage
Chapter 297 [Empire] People on the Stage
Today's urban environment simulation system still has a Christmas atmosphere. The snow has stopped, but the festive atmosphere in the city is still strong.
The streets were festooned with colorful Christmas lights, their soft glow illuminating the silvery white snow, as if the entire world had been illuminated. The wind carried a hint of chill, but not bitingly so, instead permeating a warm, festive atmosphere. It was as if a reminder that today was the true beginning of Christmas.
StarCraft has preserved the tradition of Christmas, but has forgotten that the highlight of Christmas is the eve.
Every building's facade is adorned with a variety of Christmas trees and decorations, a scene that could almost be described as "gorgeous, complex, and dazzling." This interstellar city has preserved its Christmas traditions, and although it has become very different from Christmas on Earth, the festive atmosphere is still strong.
Everyone has a smile on their face, and occasionally you can see a few people giving each other gifts, or warmly exchanging blessings and laughter in front of a street stall on the corner.
I unconsciously quickened my pace, but my mood was even more complicated than the snowy scene outside. Today, I was going to attend a violin recital, which was also the Christmas gift that Wen Ya gave me.
When Wen Ya handed me the paper ticket, I was stunned. In the interstellar age, paper tickets have become rare and precious, especially special tickets like these that carry a festive atmosphere. I didn't expect Wen Ya to prepare such a gift for me, and it made me feel a long-lost warmth.
As I walked out the door, the voice of that drunken man from last night still echoed in my mind. Thinking of his half-conscious, half-blaming appearance, my heart felt inexplicably heavy. However, today is Christmas, and today might be a good time to get rid of those emotions and memories.
I told myself that today, at least I would try to put all these messy thoughts behind me and enjoy a real musical feast.
Walking into the recital hall, the bustling festive atmosphere outside was in stark contrast to the tranquility here.
The hall was quiet and solemn, with the air filled with soft lights and the atmosphere of music. The auditorium was already full, and Wen Ya had arranged his seats early, but he himself was nowhere to be seen, obviously he had already made arrangements.
After I sat down, I silently surveyed my surroundings. Almost everyone was dressed in exquisite attire; it was clear they weren't simply there to listen to the music; they were also seeking spiritual enlightenment on this special evening. The air around me was thick with artistic energy, and even the subtlest sound seemed exceptionally clear and precious.
The lights gradually dimmed, and a figure slowly emerged onto the stage. The violin bow was already resting on my fingertips, and the music flowed like water. Each note seemed to penetrate the barriers of time and space, carrying an indescribable power that momentarily made me forget everything around me.
All that remains is the entanglement and bend between the notes and the bow, and the emotions they convey.
Suddenly, my attention was drawn to a different atmosphere. I saw a familiar figure in the corner of the stands. It was Nightingale.
He just stood there, as if he had never left. His eyes were still cold and distant, but the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, as if he was enjoying everything.
His gaze was completely at odds with the music on stage, yet it was impossible to ignore. No one met his gaze, and even he himself showed no particular emotional reaction. His aura, still as cold as the wind, gave me a subtle sense of oppression.
My attention was caught by a string of intense piano music. There was no spotlight on the person on the stage.
I couldn't believe my eyes. The person was wearing a floor-length white dress, a white lace eye mask covering most of her face, leaving only a pair of slightly closed eyes, as if in dialogue with the musical notes. And that long, flowing hair—almost my length, almost glistening in the light—was Wen Ya. He turned out to be the concert's secret guest.
I was stunned, my heart skipping a beat. Wen Ya played on the stage, his every movement exuding grace and confidence. The violin string danced between his fingertips, as if there were some invisible connection between his fingertips and the bow. The notes produced by the bow were as light as the wind, yet carried a heartbreaking emotion.
I have never seen him like this. Wen Ya has always been a calm, steady and almost always smiling person, but today he seemed to be completely immersed in music, and his whole temperament became deep and mysterious.
Although the audience remained seated, occasionally letting out a few soft gasps, the atmosphere in the hall was instantly transformed by Wen Ya's presence. It wasn't just the power of the music, but also an indescribable aura about him that captured everyone's attention.
I felt my heartbeat quicken, and suddenly a powerful emotion surfaced. Perhaps it was Wen Ya's usual calmness and elegance that had led me to mistakenly believe he was isolated from emotion, but now, on this stage, he fully displayed an indescribable wave of emotion, as if something that had been suppressed for a long time was completely released in this moment.
As the piece progressed, Wen Ya's playing grew increasingly intense, the bow tracing the strings ever faster and faster, the notes dancing like wings. At that moment, I felt the very air in the audience vibrate. Every stroke of the bow, every bow of Wen Ya's head, was filled with intense emotion, as if he were unravelling his innermost secrets through music.
And I seemed to be deeply attracted by this emotional fluctuation and couldn't extricate myself.
Even as the audience began to applaud and cheer him, I couldn't take my eyes off Wen Ya. His blindfold covered his eyes, but it couldn't hide the emotions coursing through him. Those emotions were so real, so pure, like an inescapable pain.
The music finally drew to a close. Wen Ya slowly retracted her bow and took a deep breath. The audience erupted in thunderous applause. Everyone stood up, paying their respects to the performer. I couldn't help but applaud, too, but my emotions were more complicated than anyone else's.
The moment Wen Ya took off his blindfold, his eyes fell on the audience. He swept his gaze across the crowd, but it seemed as if he didn't see me.
His eyes were still deep, as if the concert was just a silent monologue, and he was just using the bow to express his inner pain and emotions.
The curtain slowly fell. Though the performance was over, the audience didn't immediately disperse. A lingering resonance hung in the air, as if every note still resonated in the corners of the hall, unable to be erased by time.
Wen Ya on the stage disappeared from sight, and then, a few minutes later, the lights once again focused on the center of the stage.
When he reappeared on stage, I hardly recognized him.
The snow-white dress and eye mask he'd worn earlier had been replaced by a perfectly tailored black suit. The suit's clean, sleek silhouette perfectly accentuated his tall figure. His white shirt's collar was slightly open, the cuffs perfectly detailed, making him appear as if he were at a high-end gathering, not on stage, a poised and mysterious presence. His hair remained elegantly dishevelled, less formal yet more casual, as if he had never left the spiritual and mysterious world of music.