It represents the pinnacle of pop music by Mao Weiang.
And this ti, Mao Weiang’s piano played,
though, as usual, it gave one a very comfortable feeling.
But the intensity was obviously not as great as before.
Moreover, the speed had slowed down quite a bit.
It’s like.....
"Is he telling us a story?"
A mber of the audience asked.
...
If you had only five months left to live, what would you want to do?
It’s a question that if you asked a thousand people, you would get a thousand different answers.
Because five months—this is actually quite a considerable amount of ti to operate within.
It’s not a day, not three days, but 150 days.
Within this ti, it’s actually possible to do many things, whether it’s traveling the world, or learning a skill, or even doing sothing earth-shattering within your capabilities, these 150 days would be sufficient.
And Mao Weiang’s answer.
Is the cello.
—Even if, it might risk his lifelong reputation.
...
Mao Weiang has spent his life creating pop music.
These valuable treasures will ensure that even if Mao Weiang passes away in a hundred years, the world will still rember him.
To be immortalized and recorded in history.
These eight words,
are the ultimate dream every musician desires to achieve, no matter what!
Yet Mao Weiang still chose, at the risk of losing everything, to embark on the journey of the cello.
Even if, these last five months of life might ruin all the wealth accumulated over a lifeti.
Making his death aningless.....
aningless death?
When you think about it, isn’t it a bit terrifying?
Like a stray dog on the side of the road, dying without anyone caring or rembering.
But,
Mao Weiang just really, really wanted to feel it.
He wanted to know, becoming a true cellist.
Sitting on the sa stage with the person he admired most.
The scenery...what would it be like?
.....
Mao Weiang opened his eyes.
At this mont, he too beca the person on horseback.
He was about to complete the final dance of his life.
Since there’s no way to personally see the scenery in Teacher Gan Hua’s eyes.
Then, is it possible to feel it himself?
With...the thod taught by Teacher Gan Yanyu.
Mao Weiang held the reins and pulled the horse up.
He was going to gallop!
.....
As Mao Weiang’s cello sound suddenly rose.
The music went into the next climax.
The entire audience looked up.
In the live broadcast room,
Zhang Dong suddenly stood up:
"What the heck?!"
"This wild cello sound...is it Maozi?!"
...
At this mont,
Mao Weiang’s cello tone suddenly applied trendous pressure.
In this rough sound, people saw Mao Weiang fighting on the battlefield.
In the battle, Mao Weiang’s robe dyed red with blood!
Even though his silhouette remained small amongst the crowd, under the sunshine, his posture made everyone feel awe.
He walked forward this way, never so calmly, head held high.
.....
Don’t kill him, don’t kill him!
Zhang Dong continuously called out in his heart.
Wouldn’t continuing like this destroy yourself?
This noise of battlefield fighting.
Such daunting, enormous pressure.
Are you still the Maozi whose sound is appreciated for its beauty by all the audience?!
It’s like...
He has completely abandoned the concern for life and death!
.....
"Music of the dead."
"Huh??"
Upon hearing this, He Shumo widened his eyes and turned to Yao Han.
"Only the dead can make such sound."
"This kind of music disregarding death, striving to explore, learn more, and express more to the audience..."
Yao Han lowered his head, closed his eyes, and let out a heavy sigh.
Then, he opened his eyes again.
"Maozi’s days are numbered."
"Such a thing, I never knew before."
"It’s a pity for the Chinese Music Industry to lose such a talented composer....." Yao Han lanted.
Hearing these words, He Shumo was completely stunned.
He turned his head back to the live screen, feeling utterly shaken, his mouth trembling,
"Is it... almost all gone?"
.....
Is this the world as you see it?
Lin Tian, Gan Yanyu.
Mao Weiang lifted his head, gazing at the dazzling sunshine.
His mood had never been so exhilarated.
Like this, unconcerned with anyone’s evaluation, nor caring for others’ feelings.
Freely, conveying his inner thoughts to everyone.
Telling them everything he wanted to express, all at once.
And not....
rely serving them.
Teacher Gan Hua.....
The world in your eyes,
would probably be like this too.
Back then, standing on the concert stage, what was it you wanted to convey?
...
Thinking of this.
Suddenly,
Mao Weiang’s pupils widened abruptly.
Is it "conveying", "conveying" right?!
years, 19 years have passed.
He only understood the old man’s cello at this point!
Teacher Gan Hua’s performance.
Was desperately trying to convey the charm of classical music to everyone.
He used his lifelong skills to tell everyone present in the music hall about the history of classical music, telling them about its beautiful and moving side...
Your purpose.
Was to let everyone learn more about and love classical music, ah.....
Thinking of this,
Mao Weiang laughed in his heart, but with imnse bitterness.
He didn’t expect, that at the ti, he focused all his attention only on the feeling of the music itself.
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