silent melody

A postcard from Johann Sebastian Bach is placed on Pergolesi's tombstone.Lin Bo's winter's freezing rain and cold wind quickly wiped out the patterns and words on the pictures.When the seaside style of Naples and Ancona was only left blank like tears, the musicians of the orchestra announced that Pergolesi had received this long-awaited gift from his hometown at this time.

Given Rousseau's sensitive personality, Albinoni's poor performance may not have fooled him.Perhaps Rousseau just felt ominous, but he was unwilling to expose it.

The cloud of World War II hangs over Lin Bo, and the transportation of the association looks more and more like air delivery.Newspapers full of contradictory and sad news drifted to this isolated island.There were no further letters to private individuals.Lafayette, the only memoir-incarnated entity resident in Limber, also often leaves Limber.His poor little Maximilian used to stand on Limber's ferry, looking out over the ocean in the direction of the Association.

Lafayette will suddenly appear after disappearing out of thin air for a period of time.Despite the near-endless self-healing capabilities of Memoir Incarnations, Lafayette seems to have suffered so many wounds in a field hospital that he always appears in bandages.

At this time, little Maximilian would always rush forward anxiously.Lafayette just said, "You confess your past, and the reign of terror cost countless French lives. But just considering any part of World War II, those who deserve more confession than you continue to It is an honor to kill/stop. To say that they are devoid of humanity is an understatement."

Losing heaven is more painful than living in hell from the beginning.

The torment of despair all comes from the nostalgia for once hoped.

The life of the small ensemble has become surprisingly peaceful and unchanging.Every Sunday, they put on a chamber concert for the people of Limber; the other six days, they prepare for the following week.day to day.Bored, irritable, hopeless.

"Ardiviva...Ardiviva?" Benedetto Marcello suddenly murmured to himself as the very long and dreary afternoon progressed to the point of becoming almost unbearable.

With the number dwindling, in order to keep the show going, the hapless little Italian ensemble sent its equally hapless German compatriots (Johann Joachim Quantz who is good at flute, Albinoni and Vivaldi's friend Pisendel / Pisondale etc.) were also pulled in.But the orchestra's rehearsal halls are still getting empty.More and more frequent injuries made the rehearsal even worse.

This afternoon, due to insufficient numbers, they canceled the rehearsal again.

"Antonio, Benedetto is calling for you." Albinoni said after scanning the notebook on Marcello's desk.

Vivaldi puts down his piano (he is practicing). "Reverse the scale of my last name?"

"Aldiviva/Aldiviva, the false publisher of "Popular Drama." Before that, Benedetto Marcello had hardly had much conversation with Vivaldi.The reason is largely due to this "Popular Drama" published in Venice in 1720. The author Benedetto Marcello criticized the incompetence of Vivaldi's opera creation and the high degree of stereotyping of his works. "Listen, I..."

Despite the obvious provocation, Vivaldi went to Benedetto Marcello's table and sat next to Albinoni.Benedetto was a little surprised, but the red-haired priest did not lose his temper at his inexplicable proposal. "Look, I just want you to recall the contents of that book," Benedetto said.

Vivaldi raised his eyebrows, slightly disdainful. "I remember the cover. Yes, I was depicted as a cherub wearing a priest's hat, playing the violin in the stern of a gondola...I'm glad I turned out to be a cherub and not some demon."

"I originally wanted to describe you as an orangutan, but it seems that such an image stands at the stern, and the gondola can only subvert it." Benedetto didn't seem to be grateful at all, and he recorded these in his notebook superior.

At the beginning of the 18th century, the most prestigious San Angelo Theater in Venice, under the superficial scenery, its management was almost a pot of porridge.The theater's owners, the Marcello family, its manager, Vivaldi, and its composer, Albinoni, are arguing over almost every issue: music, income, lawsuits, property... "Popular Drama" was but a small culmination of the storm.

God knows why Benedetto brought it up again.Just because you're bored?But since he mentioned it, the latter is very willing to accompany him.

"A composer of an opera does not need to have any common sense of composition..." Vivaldi said.

"Singers don't have to be able to read, write, or even have perfect pronunciation—I apologize, but that's what I remember most as a singer at the time," Albinoni interjected.

Benedetto paused for a moment.

"I don't mean to challenge you to recall this..." said Benedetto, speaking much more slowly than usual, "I'm just... now, two centuries later, I'm losing my memory. I can't remember such a major job as "Drama"."

"I..." Vival was at a loss for words for the first time.

He and Albinoni were apparently unaware of Marcello's intentions; they had been prepared for a big fight.

"I'm sorry that during all these years at Limbo, there were always cold words between us, and most of them were because of my coldness. But I'm not a prejudiced person, Antonio. I'm just used to seriousness and irony. Show my other emotions," Benedetto whispered.

Faced with Benedetto's sudden concession, Vivaldi couldn't help feeling ashamed.Later, he said, "You don't have to embarrass yourself." He tentatively stretched his hand into Benedetto's notebook, "Your original intention of art for art's sake is not wrong, it's because I think too much about money. Self-plagiarism, Oversimplification, I did make a lot of mistakes. Also, Benedetto Marcello without his critique and rigor is no longer Marcello.”

“Antonio Vivaldi, who has lost the vitality of constant self-plagiarism, is no longer Vival (Italian for vitality).” Albinoni joked.

Benedetto did not take Vivaldi's offer.He looked at Albinoni, and he knew that Albinoni was only changing the subject so that he didn't want to be involved.But Benedetto didn't want to do that at the moment. "Tomaso, I also want to apologize to you. Because you were often with Antonio in Linbo, I was annoyed at one point, thinking that you had betrayed our purpose of not creating to please the powerful, so I rejected you many times. But I didn't Think you're a traitor, really."

No one knew why Benedetto Marcello suddenly uttered these strange words on this ordinary afternoon.Vivaldi and Albinoni looked at each other, and Benedetto seemed to ignore the two who were close at hand, and lowered his head pretending to read the notes he just took.

"Benedetto, you are such a good man, but too serious!" Finally, Albinoni broke the awkward silence.Smiling, he put his arms around Marcello and Vivaldi, "We should be, that is, good friends forever in Venice."

Beginning in June 1941, the Axis/centre/nations jointly invaded the Soviet Union/Union.The largest ground war in human history begins.Under the oppression of a series of never-ending war messages, Lin Bo's atmosphere became more and more oppressive.

"The Lord

have mercy on me with your kindness

Your gracious kindness removes my guilt

Please wash away my guilt again

and forgive me my sins"

"Antonio, Antonio!" a sudden hysterical cry interrupted the priest's morning prayers.Vivaldi put down the Book of Hours in his hand.Alessandro Marcello ran into the church and grabbed the priest by the skirt.

"Alessandro! What's the matter with you?" Vivaldi said.

"I... I can't find my brother Benedetto..." Alessandro trembled.

Albinoni also ran in, "The entire monastery and the back mountain are not..."

"No, no, he's just lost... Yesterday evening he said he wanted to go for a walk in the mountains... and told me not to worry about him... I... I'll find him..." Alessandro approached Can't speak.

"Alessandro, don't worry, I'll be with you... Let's search separately..." Vivaldi supported Alessandro's limp body, "He will come back, he will...!"

The three started searching in Limbo.

But both Albinoni and Vivaldi knew that Benedetto Marcello would not be coming back.

Benedetto Marcello, who died in 1739, left his brother on a winter night in 200 more than 1941 years later, disappearing into the cold and darkness.Perhaps because of his resolute character, Benedetto was unwilling to die gradually in bed in the midst of everyone's grief like Pergolesi did.Benedetto just wished he had gone silently, without a sound.

Those slightly strange words he said to Albinoni and Vivaldi that afternoon in the empty rehearsal hall were his farewell to this world.

************************************************** ************************

In 1942, North/Africa/War/Battle, Sri Lanka/Da/Lin/Ge/Le/Battle/Battle.

In 1943, the Battle of Sicily and the Battle of Kursk.

In 1944, the French Second Front opened.

XNUM X Year X NUM X Month.

Very dissonant beginning: pure degree/aunisonpitch, minor second degree/aminorsecond, tritone/tri-tone.After that comes the first B minor chord.Extreme flexo, intensifying the torment and pain of the subject.

Albinoni couldn't bear it, he came to the rehearsal hall.

Vivaldi is playing the violin.

"Antonio...that's not your style."

"No, this is my work, Holy Sepulcher/al Santo Sepolcro." Vivaldi did not stop.The development of the theme brings extremely unstable harmonies.This is followed by the Allegro, rapid clusters performed in similar registers in one response and one response.

"Stop it, I don't want to hear this melody again!" Albinoni grabbed Vivaldi's bow.Vivaldi, who lost his bow, protested with an impromptu pluck.

“难道它变得如此令人生厌是与听众没有关系的么，托马索？难道你认为此时的我还应该在演奏‘欢乐’/Op.8No.6RV180、‘春’/Op.8No.1RV269或者‘金翅雀’/Op.10No.3RV428么？！”维瓦尔第说道，他原本冷漠的脸庞抽动起来。过了一会儿，神父掩面而泣。

"No, no, Antonio..." Albinoni hurried forward to hug Vivaldi, "I..."

"My pain, not because of your comment, nor because of anything today..."

"I understand... In the past few years, everything has been completely unrecognizable and fragmented... Companions have left one after another, the association has been indifferent... silently waiting for death on an isolated desert island...!"

"Tomaso..." The priest leaned helplessly on the singer's arms, "One day...will we lose all our personalities...only our names and titles of works..."

"No...Antonio...will be worse than that..." Albinoni's crystal tears rolled down Vivaldi's beautiful long red hair, "Everything is the wind... The wind randomly arranged the letters and turned them into one Meaningless word...it has no meaning to anyone else, even the one who owns it has forgotten its meaning..."

Weak hugs and desperate sobs.

"... Tommaso, Tommaso!" Suddenly, Vivaldi broke free from Albinoni's embrace, pulling and shaking the latter's coat, "Do you remember? At the end when Benedetto was with us That afternoon, you said to me, 'Antonio Vivaldi, who has lost his vitality and enthusiasm, is no longer Vival'..."

"It's 'self-plagiarism vitality', immoral priest..." Albinoni forced a smile.This made him even more unbearable to look at his distorted face with sadness.

"No, no," Vivaldi said, almost breaking down in tears, "we should take heart...Death, of course, is a sad thing, but this world is at best a valley of tears, since he has already felt the eternal joy of heaven, why bother?" To complain...?! We should pray, pray that the war will end soon...When the joy of the world comes, no matter where we are, our own sorrow will be insignificant..."

Vivaldi pulls his sheet music from a cabinet in the rehearsal room. "Look at this, Tommaso... 'Be far from sorrow, shadow, terror'...! Sing this motet, Tommaso, even for ourselves...!"

Albinoni opened the score.Songs of Scripture before the Glory.Vivaldi also picked up the violin.

When the music of pity and hope sounded, the singer also began to sing:

"May be free from the shadows of sorrow and terror

a miserable fate an unfair fate

Wish to stay away from war, plague, anger and tyranny

Weapons and Armor Eternal Death

Dark clouds and lightning fade away

The peaceful light of heaven shines everywhere

it makes the stars twinkle

It makes every soul from the land to the stars

happy and active

The Voice of the Kingdom of Heaven

wash us off

take away misfortune

shine the light of truth

you are a fearless leader

spread your light

Hallelujah"

Just as they were about to finish, Lin Bo's ground suddenly shook.Vivaldi and Albinoni came to the mountains.

The poor people of Lin Bo, these candidates, saw a scene they had never seen before—a faint reflection suddenly floated in Lin Bo’s unchanging sky, accompanied by the trembling and roaring of the land... The sky was breaking, Cracks appeared in the dimension where Lin Bo and the association were located.In the panic, what seemed to appear in the new dark cracks in Lin Bo's sky, a mirage of a distant city?Ruins on the battlefield of this world!

In this world, the association and Lin Bo, as well as the world on the other side, have finally lost their due boundaries under the devastation of this world disaster.

************************************************** ***********************

"Dear residents of Limbo," Lafayette's voice came from Limbo's broadcast system, "emphasize again: Due to the impact of the war, the common memory of mankind has been greatly damaged. The enchantment of the location has been destroyed, and Linbo has been connected to the real world. The association hopes that all residents/candidates of Linbo will not go to Linbo, not only because you will lose protection when you go out, but also because candidates can only Limbone can see you, humans in the real world can't see you. Thank you for your cooperation."

Such broadcasts have been broadcast for more than a month.

"Also inform the latest news that starting today (February 1945, 2), the Allied forces began a large-scale bombing operation against Dresden, Germany."

The structure of the candidates themselves is extremely unstable, unlike the memoir materialized individuals attached to the common memoirs of the entire human beings, they only rely on the documents they still leave in the world.With the annihilation of documents, their own memory and existence gradually faded away.

"Dresden...Dresden..." Albinoni murmured to himself as he lay on his sickbed.

He had been doing this for almost two months since the bombing of Dresden began in early February.

Outside, Lin Bo's earth and sky trembled uncomfortably.

"Antonio, talk to Tommaso..." Domenico Scarlatti said, "Tomaso..."

"Why, why only when the memories I maintained disappeared, did I know where they were stored..." Seeing Vivaldi, Albinoni sat up suddenly.He scratched at the heart of his shirt, looking in pain.

"What are you talking nonsense about..."

The dilapidated monastery shook again.An uneasy roar came from the tunnels of the real world.

"I feel... those memories of mine that survived, those documents, they were struck, they were set on fire... they were burning... ashes, ashes... Antonio...all ashes..."

"Think of something happy, Tommaso...!" Vivaldi took Albinoni's hand and leaned on his cheek.There are also a lot of materials in Dresden, Vivaldi felt the pain of this existence gradually disappearing into thin air... like, like a snowman, slowly melting under the sun...

"Thomaso, think of your beautiful Margherita Raimondi, you once told me about your beautiful duet..."

"After her death in 1721, I had no more joy..."

"Tomaso... please think of your children..."

"When I was in bed with diabetes for the last ten years of my life, they—" Albinoni paused, suddenly becoming manic. "No, no, no! Why, why can I forget so quickly! The memory maintained by those unspoken words...Could it be, could it be..."

With the burning of Dresden, the memory of Albinoni's second half of his life disappeared like this.

Vivaldi embraces Albinoni, who is gradually losing his memory.Scarlatti brought a handkerchief and wiped away Albinoni's tears.

But Albinoni does not need and cannot be comforted.

He couldn't stand this existence that was slowly being eliminated.

An unprecedented weird thought came into his little mind—it wasn't even his will, it was just the core of his dilapidated memoir, the instinct of self-help before the final destruction.

The author has something to say:

Starting today, Chapter 7 to Chapter 9 will start the third part of the novel, "Winter".This is the part where one chapter is more cruel than the other. Are you ready?

Poor Benedetto Marcello has finally been written to death; I cannot tell his story in detail due to the length of the novel.

I don’t know if the readers are confused, why are the brothers Benedetto and Alessandro rarely together in the novel?Even if they hardly appear at the same time?Historically, Benedetto, as a nobleman, married his female student (also a singer), which was illegal; after Benedetto's death, his wife was blocked by the Marcello family. There was no way to get the inheritance, so he and Alessandro started legal proceedings for a long time.With this in mind, I didn't describe them both very well, but judging by Alessandro's search for Benedetto at the end, the elder brother may want to ask the younger brother's forgiveness, but it is too late.When I have time, I may write a side story about this in a future article...

I'm curious, why musicians at that time loved to hang out with female students who sang by themselves... (Looking at Marcello, Albinoni and Vivaldi...) And when I compared it, I felt more and more Weiwa is simply a scumbag (not only because he talks about me and me knowing that he can’t give them a future, but also because he makes a large group ==【Super foggy people are not like that), and this bad emotion It also increases day by day as the plot of my novel progresses, which is really too bad...

The next chapter is a very special one!To be precise, it is a side story completely centered on Albinoni, and it is also the only purely fictional chapter in the whole novel!Finally, I don’t need to write about Vivaldi, a scumbag hahahahaha [Hey]