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Medwitz's German, Zhong Ying's reading is very stumbling.

Maybe it's old, maybe it's not corrected by professional editors.

Many sentences contained uncommon words that were difficult to comprehend easily, so he read them very slowly.

Like every author's autobiography, Medwitz tells about his carefree childhood and the Vienna concert he was looking forward to.

As a result, when Germany occupied Austria in 1938, the first regulation promulgated was to arrest the Jews.

Medwitz was only a teenager at the time.

There is a kind mother, a serious father, and several noisy brothers and sisters.

They gathered together and held a fateful family meeting.

"We can leave, but..."

Medowitz recalls the sleepless night of family meetings, "Where could we go?"

The Medwitz family was born and raised in Austria. Although they are not artists, they love the artistic atmosphere in Vienna.

The land under their feet is the hometown they lived in since they were young. Even if their neighbors fled to find a way to leave Austria, they still live in fear and trembling, praying for safety.

At that time, Medwitz had heard of the strange and distant eastern land.

"Shanghai!"

The neighbor in his novel, with a low voice, told his mother anxiously, "With this visa, we can go to Shanghai safely!"

For Medwitz at the time, Shanghai was no different from a place full of beautiful fantasies and dangers.

There were wars everywhere, and Medwitz's parents, who knew nothing about their destination, watched their neighbors leave and chose to stay where they were, waiting for redemption.

"We couldn't leave like them."

What Medwitz writes is not only his own thoughts, but also the thoughts of many Jews, "We love Austria, and everything will be fine."

They did not choose to leave Austria when they could.

Instead, he stayed firmly, thinking that everything would not get worse.

In the end, what they waited for was not peace and stability, but entering the concentration camps in batches.

Medwitz went through many small prisons and finally entered Mauthausen.

At first, he also thinks about his separated father, mother, siblings.

At this moment, he had accepted his fate numbly, and only hoped that the prisoner would make less trouble for him and get more rest when night fell.

Those prisoners appeared in every corner of the Mauthausen concentration camp.

Like a pitch-black crow in the dark, it wants to peck and kill the prisoners at any time.

From time to time, Zhong Ying saw Medwitz's evaluation of them——

"Those Jews, wearing the armbands of German awards, regard themselves as regulators and treat their compatriots even more cruelly."

"The Germans are the devil, the Jews who think they are watchmen, terrible minions of the devil."

Zhong Ying's emotions can easily fluctuate with the words in his hand.

Even if the word "Prisoner" is unfamiliar, you can immediately realize——

These prisoners are the Jews who betrayed the Jews and served the Germans.

They brought even greater suffering to Medwitz.

Mauthausen concentration camp was originally a quarry.

Medwitz has to climb the long death ladder every day, carry heavy stones on his back, and work as a coolie with no hope in sight.

If some people walk a little slower, the prison guard will wield a stick to exercise his supervisory power.

Medwitz was beaten, but luckily he fell to the ground.

If the stick had been swung more swiftly, he would have rolled down the long stairs, smashing his head and blood, like the rest of the unlucky ones.

"I want to die."

His pen is simple and straightforward, recalling the pain of his youth, "Maybe my father, mother, brothers and sisters are all dead. I will see them soon."

The pain of the Jews does not require a long speech, and a disheartened "want to die" can make Zhong Ying deeply feel the powerlessness and sadness of Medwitz.

He began to record the white clouds in the sky over Mauthausen, and he began to record the electric grid with steel thorns.

It's not that he has become a writer and pays attention to the description of scenery, but that he wants to see the world for the last time from the bottom of his heart, and then die as if he were relieved.

When the color of this autobiography was extremely gloomy, Zhong Ying saw a ray of light that was about to be illuminated by a sunny day.

"One day, a new prisoner came to the cell..."

"I finally met him," Medowitz wrote.

In the cells of the Mauthausen Concentration Camp, many people can be held in one cell. Everyone sleeps on bunk beds like goods. If a bed is vacated from time to time, it means that someone has died.

Numb, gray, eerie, cold.

Only the newcomers stirred up a bit of vitality in the stagnant cell.

It was a person with black eyes, with wounds on his body, his body was upright, and he still had a kind of temperament in his gestures.

As soon as he raised his gaze, Medwitz felt that those eyes were alive, hiding vigorous vitality.

Medwitz's description made Zhong Ying scroll down in a daze.

The black eyes could only be Chu Shuming.

"Black eyes, devil's eyes!"

The prisoner who brought him in spat and left with disdain and disdain.

Medwitz only thought this sentence was funny, but a devil's minions despised others as devils.

As soon as the prison left, the curious prisoners surrounded him.

Everyone asked questions in German, but Chu Shuming couldn't understand, and his voice was still low and slow, "I am Chinese."

That's English.

Medwitz, who has studied French and English, was immediately confused by everyone and translated: "He said he is Chinese."

China.

In areas where information is extremely underdeveloped, Jews have no impression of China.

The prisoners became more and more curious about him, asking questions that every unlucky non-Jew would face——

"Why were you arrested?"

He smiled so brightly that even the light in his black eyes shone through.

In the suffering and tormented Mauthausen, Medwitz hadn't seen anyone other than Germans and prisoners, and dared to laugh like that.

"Because I said, I am Chinese." His English was slow and simple, "I hate Japan."

Medwitz almost froze.

How can there be such a stupid Chinese in this world who speaks so fast when their lives are at stake!

"What about you? Friend." He looked at his translator friendly.

The first eye-to-eye meeting with the Chinese described by Medowitz, the written words are breathtakingly beautiful——

"He looked at me, black eyes reflecting my goofy face."

"I'm not like you."

"I came in because I told them I'm Jewish but I love Austria!" Medowitz wrote.

The laughter in the cell was low and sad.

There is more than one fool in this world.

A fool gets caught because he hates a country, a bunch of fools get caught because he likes a country.

Zhong Ying raised the corners of his lips and understood their bitterness.

Medwitz is not an excellent writer, but every sentence he wrote is his personal experience and thoughts.

Zhong Ying flipped the pages quietly in the hotel room, and could feel the happiness he felt when he first met Chu Shuming.

This gentleman, so happy that he forgot he wanted to die.

It seems that before he died, he hoped to satisfy some curiosity and see more new things, so that he could reunite with his family after death and tell them: Hey, I saw a strange Chinese before I died.

In Medwitz's eyes, Chu Shuming is elegant, humorous, optimistic, and speaks straightforwardly and frankly.

What Zhong Ying knew before was only Brother Chu in Shen Ling's works.

Good at pipa, well-informed, polite and gentle.

In Medwitz's writing, such Chu Shuming is more specific.

He wrote: This person actually wants to learn German, in such a place where he doesn't know if he will see tomorrow.

He wrote: Maybe it was the order of the Germans, he could always get a little bit of preferential treatment, and the prison guards didn't dare to do anything to him.

He wrote: The China told by Summy is so interesting and mysterious. If I can live, I really want to go to China with him. Of course, I hope he can live.

Medowitz described the sentences and words about Chu Shuming cheerfully and excitedly.

When he wrote his autobiography, he was not rejected by the publisher, let alone advised by others. The words "China" and "Chinese" between the lines became extraordinarily vivid with the person "Schosummy", revealing a beautiful vision .

Zhong Ying immediately understood what Fries told about the past.

I also understand why the old man feels angry and disappointed in the face of officials' advice to change Chu Shuming's nationality.

It was precisely because Chu Shuming insisted on his identity as a Chinese and hated Japan that he came to the concentration camp.

Just as he insisted on his Jewish identity, liked Austria, and was caught in a concentration camp exactly the same.

Even if Medwitz is not sure about Chu Shuming's name, occupation, and age.

He was also sure that Chu Shuming was Chinese!

Those guys who live in happiness want to obliterate even this point. With an understatement, they want to eliminate a person's firm belief and personality.

Medowitz, at the time of writing her autobiography, hadn’t experienced those rages.

He is still young, living in the age that likes stories and legends.

Therefore, he likes Chu Shuming who casually tells many oriental myths.

In awkward German, it tells Chinese legends translated from Chinese into English and recorded by Jews.

Zhong Ying carefully identified the key words and found that Mr. Chu was talking about "Jingwei Reclamation", "Kua Fu Chasing the Sun" and "Chang'e Flying to the Moon".

He talked about the vast sea, about the scorching sun above his head, about the cold and bright moon, and raised his finger to these natural things that can always be seen, and exchanged German keywords with Medwitz.

Zhong Ying understood Medwitz's happiness.

He walked on the ladder of death day after day in the concentration camp, and yesterday he felt that he did not want to live.

Today I feel—

Ah, what kind of story will Summy tell, is it an angel who can go to the moon after taking the elixir, or a giant who chases the sun and turns into a mountain?

Zhong Ying looked at those stories, as if seeing his former self.

He stayed by his grandfather's side, waiting for his grandfather to tell him everything about Yiyin Yashe with a smile.

Whether it is Shen Ling, who is astonishing in the world by playing the guqin, or Zheng Wanqing, who is as gentle as water and sonorous as steel, they are all myths he revered in his childhood.

Medowitz is confronting a myth.

He recorded the mythical stories told by Chu Shuming, devoted his whole life to yearning and praise, and wrote down the Messiah he saw when he woke up in the middle of the night——

"He stood by the window, gazing at the moon. The silver-white light shone on his black eyebrows and eyes, which were coated with a beautiful layer of glass color. Even that face was like a sculpture in a palace of art, with clear light and shade, just like God's carefully carved masterpiece."

Medwitz looked at it for a while, then asked in a low voice, "Summy, what are you looking at?"

The masterpiece of God evoked a smile and said, "When the moon is at its fullest, that's when family members should be reunited."

He raised his hand, and Kong Kong made a familiar gesture, looking at the moon through the window of the cell, as if playing a nostalgic piece of music.

"Are you playing the guitar?" Medwitz asked.

But Chu Shuming came over, sat by Medwitz's bed, and said, "It's not a guitar, it's a guitar."

The same word represents Medowitz's confusion at that time.

He couldn't understand the essential difference between a guitar and a pipa with a perfect accent.

Because in Austria, a country known as the music capital of the world, he has never seen a pear-shaped long-necked Chinese pipa, and only knows about guitars and lutes.

Zhong Ying saw Medowitz's emotion.

"It will take many, many years before I realize what he means."

"It turns out that his instrument is indeed not a guitar, but a pipa."

After that night, Medwitz remembered that Chu Shuming could play an instrument.

The Mauthausen Concentration Camp was strictly guarded, but a small number of prisoners were still able to keep their musical instruments and occasionally played them for the Germans.

Harmonica, clarinet, guitar...

Medwitz remembered that the old man in the next cell could play the guitar.

On a certain moonlit night, he thought about the guitar next door, and looked at Chu Shuming who was also not asleep.

"You're a musician."

Chu Shuming smiled and raised his hand, again in a handsome gesture of plucking strings in the air.

He focused on performing the pipa playing skills, and regretfully replied in his unproficient German: "I am. It's a pity that there is no pipa, otherwise I will definitely play a piece for you."

"Really?" A deep voice came from beside, "I can play the accordion. Kodo can play the trumpet!"

"What use will it be," muttered the prisoner named Codo in a low voice, "They smashed my trumpet!"

Musicians treat their instruments as if they were their own lives.

Unfortunately, in the precarious concentration camp, not every musician is lucky enough.

Medwitz wanted to say that he could borrow a guitar next door, but was interrupted by a rustling in the cell.

He turned his head and saw many people sticking out their heads from the bed, their faces were covered with black ash, their skin was dry and wrinkled.

Only the eyes are exceptionally bright.

"I can play the violin."

"Before I came here, I held a baton in both hands."

"Music, I almost forgot what the music played by the cello looks like."

In a small cell, a group of musicians gathered.

They slowly moved closer together, as if there was a warm bonfire burning around Chu Shuming and Medwitz. With nostalgia for music, they gathered together secretly to keep warm.

Chu Shuming didn't stop playing. Like an accompaniment, he plucked the strings for them, comforting the lonely and suffering soul.

What the slender fingers outline is not the cold air, but the lingling piano sound, which arouses the silent soul of every musician.

Suddenly, the conductor remembered something.

"Trumpeter, can you play the Waltz of Spring?"

He asked, as if throwing a charcoal into a warm campfire, stirring up a warmer flame.

"The great Strauss, the great "Spring Waltz"."

Kodo, who can play the trumpet, jumped off the bed, raised his hands, and made a gesture of blowing the trumpet——

"The birds sing sweetly, the hills and valleys shine, and the valleys resound!"

With a low voice, he sang the lyrics of "The Waltz of Spring".

Then he immersed himself in his playing, as if he really had a golden trumpet in his hand, leading the prelude to "The Waltz of Spring".

Medowitz saw Chu Shuming raised his hand again, played the "guitar" in his hand, and started the pipa performance following the imagination of "Spring Waltz".

The musicians around looked at the two of them with bright eyes, but didn't move immediately.

And the conductor who asked the question stood under the window, raised his professional hands, waited for them with a smile, and watched them choose their own seats.

This is like an impromptu performance, and the conductor and musicians are already in place.

As the conductor lowered his wrist, cellos and cellos joined the silent concert one after another.

Medwitz sat on the bed, looking at them in surprise, full of unreasonable envy.

He doesn't know how to play a musical instrument, but he felt the strong musical atmosphere, just like the Vienna concert he was looking forward to, maybe he would never be able to enter the venue, and he was honored to listen to it.

Chu Shuming looked at him with a smile.

The conductor raised his eyebrows and slightly raised his hand as a signal.

The embarrassment in Medwitz's heart was broken by excitement.

He raised his hands obsessively, pretending to be a pianist, and pressed the keys indiscriminately.

For a moment, he was also a musician and learned to play the "Waltz of Spring".

The moonlight outside the window, as cold as water, illuminated the special performance in the cell, and cast the reflection that the instrument should have on the ground.

Each of them is playing the "Waltz of Spring" in their hearts, and each of them is looking forward to the vitality of the earth's rejuvenation and the melting of ice and snow.

Everyone has found their own freedom and hope in music.

"Xiao Ying?"

There was a knock on the hotel door, and Fan Chengyun's voice interrupted Zhong Ying's reading.

Zhong Ying wiped away the tears, walked over to open the door with red eyes.

He hasn't calmed down yet, and his eyes, heart, and soul are all lingering in that silent concert.

"Master..."

Even when he saw Fan Chengyun, he couldn't restrain his crying, and became aggrieved and vulnerable in front of his elders.

Fan Chengyun was taken aback, then quickly patted him on the shoulder, and asked softly as if comforting a child: "What happened?"

Zhong Ying wiped away his tears and picked up the "Remembrance".

"Mr. Fries' grandfather, who met Mr. Chu in the Mauthausen concentration camp, he, they—"

Immediately, his words choked up and he couldn't continue speaking, so he could only hand the book to Master.

They are tortured in a hellish place.

In the cage-like cell again, the hope in my heart was aroused.

Musicians without musical instruments held the most exciting and grand concert in the world.

They lived in a cold and cold winter, and played a warm and warm spring.

Fan Chengyun didn't understand German, but he still read the autobiography silently.

"Since Mr. Chu has been reduced to a concentration camp, something must have happened on the way back home. I don't know what happened to Ms. Zheng and Chu Zhiya, will it be..."

His guess is not without reason.

Zhong Ying calmed down a bit, remembering that his master didn't know German, he reached out and took back the German book.

"Fliss said that he found Chu Zhiya's descendants, but..."

Zhong Ying stared at the white-covered memoir, feeling depressed, "But they may not be as indifferent to fame and fortune as Mr. Chu and Ms. Zheng, and have a noble temperament."

He slowly talked about the inheritance dispute caused by 1000 million euros.

It also mentioned Zheng Wanqing's pistil pipa.

Everything that Chu Shuming encountered in "Remembrance" has made Zhong Ying extremely sad.

Before Shen Ling died, she looked forward to her friend's last wish to find the musical instrument, but it may never be fulfilled.

He didn't expect Mr. Chu to walk in front of Shen Ling.

In 1944, it was only one year since the liberation of Mauthausen concentration camp!

But the impermanence of fate and the fragility of life did not allow Chu Shuming to wait for freedom and liberation like Medwitz.

He flipped through the autobiography repeatedly in his hand, and every sheet of white paper in it was covered with blood.

Jewish, Chinese.

Uncleaned blood flowed between the lines, accusing the crimes of the Nazis and the ugliness of the prison.

Zhong Ying read the autobiography while telling the story of Chu Shuming to his master.

Medwitz was thinking about the guitar in the cell next door, and finally appeared in front of him on a sunny morning.

The German took the old guitar, walked into the cell and said: "Who can use it to play "Defend the Rhine", and don't need to go to the quarry today."

The old man in the cell next door is dead.

He often plays his favorite guitar pieces for Germans.

The Germans, who had lost their musicians, questioned the poor Jews one by one in their cells.

"you?"

"you?"

Germans, who are cloudy and cloudy, will become cold and grumpy because no one plays the guitar.

Seeing no one answered, he took out his gun and put it on Medwitz's head.

"you."

"I won't, sir, I won't."

That was the time when Medwitz was closest to death, the muzzle of the gun was hard, and when it fell on the paper, it was glowing coldly.

Medowitz wrote, "I thought I was going to die."

"Millions of Jews were killed by the guns of the Germans, and sooner or later it will be my turn."

Then, trembling with despair, he heard the voice of the Messiah—

"I can."

Chu Shuming spoke German, stood up, and directly took the guitar from the German's hand.

With his musical talent, he can tune the guitar strings with his hands.

Medwitz stared at him blankly, not even knowing when the muzzle above his head was removed.

"I want to listen to "Defense of the Rhine," ordered the German.

Chu Shuming focused on the strings in his hands, "I'm Chinese, and I haven't heard "Defending the Rhine"."

He speaks German well enough, "but I'll play you something better than this."

Medwitz didn't know what Chu Shuming was playing.

Unfamiliar melody does not affect the wonderful music.

Zhong Ying looked at Medwitz and excitedly described it as "paradise music", with the joy of the rest of his life, and Chu Shuming in his eyes exuded the brilliance of the savior Messiah.

With red eyes, he told the master in a low voice, "Mr. Chu played very nice tunes on the guitar, and saved Fries' grandfather Medwitz."

Fan Chengyun laughed silently, his voice was low as if he was afraid of disturbing the undead.

"The guitar has six strings and the pipa has four strings. The members of the Yiyin Yashe are all masters of music. Musical instruments never limit their talents."

Zhong Ying nodded and continued to turn the pages of the book.

But he did not say that Chu Shuming in Medowitz's works was not happy with his music.

They were granted a dispensation not to go to the quarry, and they sat silently on their cell beds.

Chu Shuming stroked the worn-out guitar, and told Medwitz about the Mulan Pipa for the first time.

He touched the tuners of his guitar and said, "My guitar has only four tuning tuners, and each one is as long as a finger."

"Curved headstock, four strings."

He plucked out a clear voice, "There is no such a big sound hole, it looks like a pear, and..."

Chu Shuming's vicissitudes and withered fingers covered the side of the string bridge, and said with a nostalgic smile: "There are large areas of magnolias blooming here. Those beautiful magnolias have bloomed on the wood for more than 1000 years."

The description Medowitz wrote down is simple, ancient, as beautiful as spring, with the breath of magnolia in early spring.

Zhong Ying almost immediately remembered the appearance of the Mulan Pipa, and it was no wonder that the moment Fries saw the Stamen Pipa at the auction house, he thought of Chu Shuming's Pipa.

It's a pity that Chu Shuming's nostalgia is painful.

After a while, he said with emotion: "I fell here because I refused to play music for Japanese military officers, but now I have to perform for the German Nazis..."

Medwitz could hear his grief.

He didn't know the righteousness of life, character and belief, but he knew that Chu Shuming saved his life.

"You are not performing for the Germans!"

Medwitz said seriously, "You are for us Jews!"

His words seemed to inspire Chu Shuming.

The musician is very good, masters simple German, and can chat with the German officer when he plays the guitar for the German officer.

Medwitz didn't know what they were going to talk about, but the German looked happy.

He was so happy that he added a new blanket for Chu Shuming, added a few pieces of meat for their cell food, and allowed them to fill the hole in the cell for the first time.

The Messiah whom Medowitz expected to come came to him in this way.

The gradual improvement of the prison cells caused the prison prison to curse and curse, and the prison prison often stared at the black-eyed Chinese with sinister eyes.

Medowitz's description almost foretells the tragedy.

Soon, Zhong Ying saw the news of Chu Shuming's death.

Schosummy was bludgeoned to death by the prison guard, Medowitz writes.

The prisoner tried his best to trouble him, but to no avail.

Finally, one afternoon, I found a reasonable reason to swing at him——

Because Medwitz fell, Chu Shuming stopped to help him up.

As a result, the long line had a large blank pause.

When they finished walking the stairs of death, the Jewish prisoner yelled, "You bloody Jew!"

He swung the violent wooden stick and gave Medwitz a hard blow!

Chu Shuming grabbed his arm and said solemnly and slowly in clear German: "He is your compatriot."

Seeing the prisoner, Medwitz waved the stick again in anger and hit Chu Shuming.

The moment he reached out and failed to hold Chu Shuming, he heard the deafening gunshot, and even felt the splash of blood on his face.

At the moment Chu Shuming rolled down the death ladder, the arrogant prisoner died on the top of the ladder with a gunshot.

The prisoner kills a person with the power given by the Germans, and the Germans end a life like a thing.

Schosummy is dead.

No one survived the harsh conditions of Mauthausen after rolling down the long death ladder.

The bed next to Medwitz was vacant, which was left by the Chinese who could tell fairy tales and play the pipa.

He couldn't regain his senses for a long time, instead of the silent air in his ears, he heard the sound of music, and in front of him was Chu Shuming rolling down the ladder of death.

There is also the sentence: He is your compatriot.

Medwitz raised his hand and played the Thirteen Principles for his Messiah who would eventually rise again.

he wrote—

"Hey, Summy, if you wait any longer, the Germans won't have the energy to guard us and be too busy talking about fleeing and retreating."

"Maybe you can get a better guitar and play the real "Waltz of Spring" with our surviving musicians."

Of course, it wasn't until a long, long time later that he discovered that the guitar he thought was actually a lute.

Even the Chinese pipas he saw were played vertically.

He still maintained Chu Shuming's playing posture, hugged him horizontally in his arms, plucked the strings, and sang:

The savior Messiah will come.

We always look forward to never slacking off.

The dead will rise again with Me.

The end of that song is the end of "Remembrance".

Medwitz wrote about his childhood and his family in detail at the beginning.

At the end, he just said regretfully: "I am free, but I have no family."

Then, following his nostalgia for Chu Shuming, he finished the entire "Remembrance".

Zhong Ying does not understand Jewish beliefs, but he understands the power of music.

Medwitz wanted to die in that cold winter.

It was Chu Shuming's fairy tales, the silent concert, and the guitar played by Chu Shuming, which made him live until the warm spring.

It was the Mulan Pipa that he had never seen before, which brought him hope.

A thin autobiography, without redundant author introduction and life notes.

Even the back cover looks plain, and Zhong Ying can lift the back cover with a slight flip.

Then he came across a string of German words hidden inside the fold.

The beautiful letters can't hide Fries' cunning and wicked taste.

He wrote: "If you can find this line of text, it means that you have really read this "Remembrance". I don't recommend disturbing a poor lady. I hope you can see what you want here—— "

"No. 11, Kenboser Street, Chu's Musical Instrument Store."