On the morning of the seventeenth, the performance officially began. A total of twenty teams would take the stage over two days, each presenting their own musical pieces.
Xia Yu and his two companions were scheduled for the next day, as were the Gu brothers. Today’s performances were mainly from smaller divisions.
Although there were one or two strong teams among these divisions, most were rather mediocre. Xia Yu found himself dozing off from boredom.
At the end of the day, the organizers arranged a small climax. It was a well-known ensemble from the second division—a group of four men Xia Yu had met the previous night.
Their ensemble included piano, violin, cello, and flute.
The flute is a European instrument, different from the horizontally blown flutes of the first division; European and American flutes are vertically blown. The recorder, popular in Xia Yu’s elementary school in his past life, was also a European flute, hence played vertically.
Among today’s performances, this piece was the most moving.
After the performance, Xia Yu, like everyone else, applauded and then returned to his hotel.
As he was thinking about whom he would visit that night, Liu Manman barged into his room.
“Xia Yu, someone is bashing us online!” Liu Manman exclaimed, waving her phone at him.
Skimming through the post briefly, Xia Yu found it was a fairly well-written piece.
It first compared the ancient instruments of the first division with European instruments, emphasizing the glorious history and achievements of the ancient instruments, which stirred a sense of pride in the readers. Then it discussed the decline of ancient instruments in modern times, evoking a sense of regret.
At this point, the emotional groundwork was laid. The post then praised the Gu brothers for their persistence in promoting Chinese culture, and contrasted this with the semi-traditional, semi-Western pieces performed by Xia Yu’s trio. The implications were clear.
This post didn’t appear on just one forum; it was replicated in many places with similar wording.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Xia Yu understood the Gu brothers’ intentions. They were trying to portray themselves as national heroes, and they indeed had the capability. In ensemble performance, they were already among the top teams in this competition.
Liu Manman hadn’t considered that the Gu brothers might be behind this. She smiled smugly, “These netizens will never guess that our third piece is entirely played on ancient instruments.”
The Gu brothers had somehow seen the first two pieces Xia Yu’s trio had submitted, but they didn’t know about the third piece.
Compared to the reactions of netizens, Xia Yu was more eager to see how the Gu brothers would react.
After soothing Liu Manman and sending her back, Xia Yu casually went to Xu Youxiang’s room for the night. The next morning, he arrived at the venue.
The opening act was a duo from the eleventh division—a combination of shakuhachi and taiko drums, playing a piece called Kagura.
Following them were performers from the sixth division.
Third up were the Gu brothers.
Their pieces were “Shipwreck” and “Giants’ Land.” “Giants’ Land” was ordinary, but “Shipwreck” was quite good.
Xia Yu’s assessment was based on his mid-level Lv5 standard. Naturally, music included ensemble performance, and his ensemble skills were far superior to An Siyao’s and Liu Manman’s, and even better than the Gu brothers’.
Therefore, the Gu brothers’ skill level was already among the top-tier of the competing teams. The audience below gave them a warm round of applause.
After finishing their performance, the Gu brothers returned to their seats proudly, casting a smug glance toward Xia Yu.
Xia Yu ignored them.
After three more teams performed, it was finally Xia Yu’s trio’s turn.
“This is the second team from the first division?”
“Let me check. Their three pieces are ‘Tears of the Moon,’ ‘Wind of the Cold Valley,’ and ‘The Shrine Beyond the Seclusion,’ which is a piano piece. What is ‘The Shrine Beyond the Seclusion’?”
“Maybe it’s piano combined with guzheng and xiao flute.”
“What’s the point of adapting the original pieces into ensemble works from different countries’ instruments? It’s not as good as the first team.”
As Xia Yu and his companions stepped onto the stage, the whispers immediately ceased, and the audience focused their attention on the three performers.
The first piece was “Tears of the Moon,” performed by two guzhengs and a violin. The original guzheng piece, enhanced by the violin, evoked a gentle breeze sweeping over white flowers, adding a sense of continuity.
Next came “Wind of the Cold Valley,” originally a piano piece, performed by piano and two dizi flutes. With the addition of the dizi, the cold and desolate valley acquired a touch of sorrow.
Liu Ronglan below nodded, then shook her head.
Their performance was quite good overall, comparable to that of the Gu brothers, but ultimately, the blend of Chinese and Western instruments left her somewhat disappointed.
Liu Ronglan had also seen the online posts. Although she disapproved of the Gu brothers’ publicity tactics, the content of the posts resonated with her.
As a leader in the traditional instrument community and from a family of traditional musicians, she also longed to see the glory of traditional instruments restored.
And the Gu brothers had indeed showcased the beauty of traditional instruments on this global stage.
On this stage, Chinese ensemble performances hadn’t been this impressive in a long time.
They would be seen as a source of pride.
She looked at Xia Yu’s trio on stage. She knew they had a third piece, one her obedient granddaughter had kept secret even from her.
Still, even if their performance was more impressive than the Gu brothers’, it wouldn’t matter. What people would remember was the Gu brothers, representing the greater cause.
Hmm? Why did they go backstage? Why are the staff removing the piano and bringing only one guzheng onstage?
A small stir arose among the audience, lasting until three minutes later when the trio returned to the stage.
Unlike their previous formal suits, they were now dressed in three Hanfu outfits.
Liu Manman sat in front of the guzheng, Xia Yu held a sheng flute, and An Siyao raised her dizi flute.
All traditional instruments!
Liu Ronglan was greatly shocked. She wasn’t surprised that her granddaughter played the guzheng—she had seen Xia Yu play the sheng before—but since when had An Siyao learned the dizi flute? Her teacher had clearly said she only knew piano and violin!
No, that wasn’t important right now.
Liu Ronglan calmed herself.
She began to weigh the pros and cons. What the trio was doing now was risky. If their performance was about as good as the Gu brothers’, it might be okay. But if they performed worse, it could cause serious problems.
If someone stirred up controversy online, people would sarcastically criticize them, directing their frustration over the decline of traditional instruments toward the trio, blaming them for not focusing seriously.
Even if their performance matched the Gu brothers’, they wouldn’t receive praise—only slightly fewer online insults.
The Gu brothers understood this too. They watched Xia Yu’s trio excitedly.
Their ensemble skills, honed through years of collaboration, had nearly reached their peak. They had analyzed Xia Yu’s trio’s previous performances—they were a completely temporary team with poor coordination, relying solely on individual techniques to compensate.
No matter what piece they played, Xia Yu’s trio couldn’t possibly perform better than them. It was impossible for any piece!
Other audience members also became attentive.
Under everyone’s gaze, the melodious sound of the dizi flute rang out first, followed by the sheng flute, and then the guzheng.
Liu Ronglan and the Gu brothers’ expressions changed.
They had never heard this prelude before!
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