155. Vision and Style, Ang Lee's Choice

Qin Yong was somewhat surprised to learn of Li An's intentions.

Especially after flipping through the full orchestral score Li An handed him, the messy scribbles and markings on it brought a smile to his face.

Not out of mockery.

On the contrary, he had to give Li An a thumbs-up.

He had never yet encountered an undergraduate majoring in piano who could interpret an orchestral score to this extent.

However, Li An was mistaken.

Or rather, Li An's objective was unclear.

As a solo performer, Li An was doing the work of a conductor, and he was doing so without any prior professional training in conducting.

Mistakes could be excused under the guise of good intentions, but such a massive workload—didn't it consume time?

Moreover, this expenditure of time was almost meaningless.

Good thing you kid came at the right time, Qin Yong thought to himself, as he happened to have nothing going on that morning.

He got up, brewed two cups of tea, and asked calmly, "Are you familiar with this piece?"

Familiar with it?

Li An felt that he was. He had listened to the first movement countless times recently, and now, whenever the orchestral prelude came to mind, lines of scores for various instrument sections would appear in his head.

Yet, was this level of familiarity the answer to Qin Yong's question?

He wasn't sure.

This was also his purpose in seeking Qin Yong's guidance: during his research process yesterday, he had jotted down numerous questions, hoping to receive professional insights from the other man.

With a sincere attitude, Li An smiled and replied, "I wouldn't call it familiar, but I can play it smoothly enough."

Qin Yong nodded, much as he had anticipated. He intended to first impart some professional basics to Li An.

"Do you know what most conductors do when they are handed an unfamiliar piece?"

"The first thing they do is the same as you—careful study."

"Next, they perform a formal analysis of the phrase combinations and major structural sections, followed by an analysis of the harmonic and polyphonic structures."

Li An nodded; he could understand that.

Qin Yong continued, "For serialist musical works, a conductor must determine all the compositional components of the pitch rows."

"When studying orchestration, a conductor must be clear about how every member of every section should play at any given moment."

"This doesn't just mean playing the notes; equally important are the requirements for rhythm, dynamics, and all other aspects."

"The above is only the first step of a conductor's work in reading a full score. Do you know why they study the score?"

Li An thought for a moment. "To interpret the musical style."

"Correct."

Qin Yong sighed, seemingly recalling the scene of when he last answered this question.

"In fact, many people do not understand a conductor's work, thinking a conductor simply stands in front of a group of musicians waving a little stick around randomly."

"They are gravely mistaken. Fifty percent of a conductor's work lies in realizing the composer's score."

"Although studying a full score takes far more time and effort than learning a solo score, a conductor's job is to interpret music, which is no different from the tasks of other musical performers."

"You play a piece."

"I conduct a piece."

"In theory, there is no difference between us, save for the instrument we hold in our hands."

"Your instrument is a piano."

"My instrument is an orchestra."

"Therefore, as a conductor, one must first establish a series of interpretive concepts regarding the musical work."

"And the concept of interpretation lies within the score."

"This is the ultimate purpose of a conductor studying a score."

At this, Qin Yong paused to take a sip from his teacup, then posed a question to Li An:

"What is your purpose?"

Li An's purpose was clear: to better grasp the style of the work through the study of the full score.

"I want to evoke the musical feeling of that era."

Qin Yong raised an eyebrow, sidelong casting an amused smile. "A performer's interpretation of music from a past era depends, to a relative degree, on his attitude toward the style of that era."

With that, he closed the score before him.

"Piano Concerto in D minor, K. 466, Mozart's twentieth piano concerto, composed in 1785, premiered in Vienna on February 11, 1785."

Li An's expression shifted slightly; he was somewhat astonished by the depth of Qin Yong's knowledge repository.

He had only learned these facts after starting to prepare this piece, yet the other man could rattle off the premiere date effortlessly.

"Li An, surely you should know this better than I do."

Li An cleared his throat and murmured, "I only learned about it recently myself."

Qin Yong asked, "Then tell me, what is the key point in that statement?"

Li An: "1785."

Qin Yong: "Very good, 1785. Mid-Classicism. What was the style of this musical period? Balance, sonata form, homophonic music as the mainstay, with clear and regular formal structures."

"Anything else?"

Li An had nothing to add. To elaborate further would still revolve around these core elements, and he vaguely sensed what Qin Yong was going to ask next.

Qin Yong leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, and after a moment asked, "What is your attitude toward these elements?"

Li An gave up.

Their macro-level understandings of Classical-era music were simply not on the same plane.

Qin Yong thought of an example that might help Li An: "Take the tempo of this period, for instance. We all know that when performing Mozart's works, determining the initial tempo is crucial."

"Mozart wrote a treatise on violin playing in 1756, in which he offered this advice to performers: before determining the tempo of a movement, the musician should first find a passage that embodies the character of the movement. Such a passage is often found near the end of the movement, and it will be more inspiring to you than the beginning."

A flash of inspiration struck Li An's mind.

In an instant, the problem of determining the tempo that had plagued him suddenly seemed to find a reference path for resolution.

After a moment, Qin Yong added, "My professor, Hopes, once said that in conducting Mozart's works, if one fails to grasp the subtle fluctuations in tempo, the music will become stagnant water."

A moment later, Li An's eyes lit up.

He looked up gratefully and said, "Thank you, Brother Yong."

Qin Yong smiled, picked up the cigarette pack on his desk, and pulled out two cigarettes. Li An hurried to stand up and light one for Qin Yong.

Drawing a lungful, Qin Yong couldn't help but recall the days when he first arrived in Germany. "You should light one too."

Li An had a slight cold, but he still accompanied Qin Yong and lit the cigarette.

"Classical music is something you often cannot give a definitive explanation for."

Qin Yong frowned, as if organizing his thoughts. "When you have analyzed all the stylistic elements of a piece with absolute clarity, your professor will ask you: How do you view them?"

"It is as if there is no single answer to that question."

Returning to Li An's full score: "Even so, you still must analyze all of this with utmost clarity first; otherwise, you will only drift further from the answer."

"Li An, your direction in studying the full score is wrong—or rather, you really don't need to study these things at this stage."

Li An was taken aback.

Qin Yong thought better of sugarcoating it and said directly: "You know, studying conducting abroad, score reading is a major course. Under-trained students like those of us from domestic backgrounds mostly have to rely on self-training methods to make up for it."

"First, we have to play Bach's ensemble works on the piano using the original four-part scores, then progress step by step to play string quartets, followed by chamber music with transposing wind instruments, and finally, concertos and symphonic works."

"It is a very long process."

"Do you know how many people drop out during this stage?"

"I am not saying you cannot read full scores; I even encourage you to understand more scores. As you said, understanding the melodies of various sections will better help you approach the music."

"But this has basically nothing to do with your goal."

"You said you want to play the musical style of the K. 466 era. I think this goal is too generalized."

"You must at least know what the musical style of that era is. Style is not merely words on paper; it must be realized within the music."

"The moment you strike the keys, connoisseurs will say, 'This is Mozart.'"

"Then you have mastered Mozart's musical performance style."

"When you describe Mozart's music at that time, I believe you will cast aside the textbook clichés like 'balance' and 'rules'."

"Do you understand what I mean?"

"You are a piano soloist. On stage, the orchestra and the conductor are there to serve you. As long as you are clear about what you are playing, the orchestra and the conductor will know what they should play."

"Instead of trying to figure out what they are going to play and then pandering to it."

"Don't put the cart before the horse."

"Why not try changing your perspective: What am I going to play?"

"Let me leave you with one more sentence, which my department head, Etheris, told me at my graduation ceremony:"

"There was once no such thing as 'style,' and then one day, a generation began studying style, and ever since, every generation has been studying style."

-

After Li An left with his score, Qin Yong lit another cigarette for himself.

He understood Li An very well, but he also felt helpless.

The fact that he could sit in front of Li An today and expound on his experience didn't rule out the possibility that he had worked hard himself, but he believed it was largely because he had stepped onto the soil where classical music originated and spent a few years being immersed in it.

Qin Yong believed that if Li An had undergone a similar experience, he would turn out far more brilliant than himself.

To produce such a study of a full score without any teacher's guidance was already a mind-boggling feat for Li An.

Yet, what one doesn't know, one doesn't know. Direction is more important than effort.

It was truly helpless. Qin Yong knew Li An simply wanted to continue making progress through this method.

Transposing Czerny Op. 299—coming up with such a practicing method was quite a quirky taste.

Pity that no one could give him a clear direction.

Qin Yong felt that Wei Sanwan could not; there was an era gap between the master and disciple.

Neither could he; he was not a piano major and could only offer some reference opinions within a certain scope.

From a friend's perspective, through the events of this morning, he had changed his view somewhat. He felt that Li An's decision to go to Beijing for the competition was the right one.

Regardless of the competition itself, the stage was there, and perhaps someone would discover this eccentric talent.

At this thought, Qin Yong suddenly worried: did his final words just now dampen Li An's spirits?

He immediately shook his head and chuckled.

He got up, walked over to the bookshelf, and began rummaging through it.

-

Discouraged? To some extent, yes, a little bit.

Yet, looking at it from a slightly different perspective, it was a good thing.

So many things were hidden behind a single score. He was truly fortunate, and deeply grateful.

Fortunate that he had sought out Qin Yong in time, and grateful for the other man's enlightenment.

Thinking about it now, he really had made the problem too simple.

Returning to Classroom Four, Li An took out his phone, opened the recording he had just made, and replayed Qin Yong's words over and over.

Qin Yong was right: his goal was unclear, and he fundamentally had no idea what the Mozart style actually was.

Not only had he been awakened to this issue, but he had also learned methods for reading scores and angles for determining tempos in Mozart's works.

And none of that was the most important part—the most important thing was that his eyes had been opened.

His horizon had broadened immensely in an instant.

Those fresh terms that rolled so effortlessly off Qin Yong's tongue regarding music and style exerted a fatal attraction upon Li An.

He longed so deeply to immerse himself in that world, wishing he could transform into a part of it.

Thinking back now to the serious competition registration plan he had meticulously crafted earlier, it looked like children playing house.

So what if he registered for the Youth Group? So what if it delayed his work for two days? Chen Xuan had been working diligently all week without a single complaint, cheerful every single day.

And there he was, pondering this and agonizing over that.

What made him think he could balance everything to perfection?

Hesitant and indecisive when choosing categories, overzealous and excessive during practice.

Think about why you wanted to participate in the competition in the first place.

Self-examination.

Nothing more.

Gazing out the window, Li An couldn't help but smile happily.

Bring it on.

At worst, there's always next time.

Just like when he had shouldered eighty-one thousand in debt.

Life had to move forward.

He picked up his phone and scanned the competition registration QR code.

Under the registration directory for the 18th Xinghai Cup National Piano Competition, Li An scrolled all the way to the bottom.

[Youth Open Group]

Click Confirm.

Then he entered his name, ID number, and a two-inch photo.

Click Submit.

[Please select a payment method]

WeChat Pay.

-

In the neighboring piano room, Chen Xuan was video chatting with Song Ling.

She tapped open Li An's message.

Seeing the successful payment of 1,500, she smiled knowingly.

She felt genuinely happy for Li An's decision.

"What's got you smiling so brightly?"

"Mom, do you know about this year's Xinghai Cup Piano Competition?"

"How would I know about such things?" Hearing the word piano, however, Song Ling sensitivity prompted her to ask further, "What's wrong?"

"You can look into it ahead of time."

-

Three days later, at dusk.

Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen as Xiao Mi, wearing an apron, stood before the stove preparing their dinner for the evening.

Her menu for tonight was: Cola Chicken Wings 2.0 + Shiitake Mushrooms with Bok Choy 1.0.

With the chicken wings simmering on the stove, she held the cookbook Li An had borrowed from the library last time.

She was studying how to cut cross-hatch patterns on the shiitake mushrooms.

Suddenly, the tempo of the piano playing beside her shifted. The secondary theme, lingering with a dim and deep resonance, faintly revealed a bright yet sorrowful melancholy.

It felt like the most disillusioned period of Mozart's life.

It was the musical feeling of Mozart, Chen Xuan thought to herself as she looked at the figure in front of the piano, arriving at her conclusion after a moment of reflection.

Even merely as a classical music enthusiast, she would find herself drawn into moments of busyness by exquisite musical passages.

Just like now.

Then she lowered her head and resumed her study of the cross-hatch cuts.

As the final note faded at the piano, the sound of the range hood in the room reclaimed dominance. Li An lowered his hands and let out a long breath.

Picking up his phone, he saw that the Wei Family Class group chat had exploded.

With only a few hours left before the final registration deadline, everyone was still debating which category to enter.

Most of those speaking were undergraduates, their words revealing a mix of hesitation and longing—they all wanted to try the Youth Group but could only sigh in despair.

He scrolled down to Zheng Haitao's message tagging him from two hours ago: "Set an example for the younger brothers and sisters, doge."

Li An smiled: "I've already registered."

A moment later.

Zheng Haitao: "Youth Group!?"

Li An: "Yeah."

Zheng Haitao: "[Thumbs up]"

Chen Zihua: "[Thumbs up]"

Following that, Li An was greeted by a wall of thumbs-up emojis.

Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, seniors.

First-year, second-year, and third-year graduate students.

Even some senior brothers and sisters who had graduated years ago and happened to see the message joined the queue.

Some were just joining the fun, some were there to hype things up, but most were filled with admiration.

Throughout the entire Wei Family Class, Li An was the only one who had registered for the Open Group.

Perhaps in Chengdu, or within a radius of eight hundred miles around it, countless people had signed up for the Youth Group.

Yet one undeniable fact remained: Chengdu was home to the highest institution of music in this region.

And the Wei Family Class represented the highest standard of the piano department.

Li An, however, wasn't thinking about all that; he had already joined the cross-hatch mushroom interest discussion group.

Right at that moment, the lit screen of the phone resting on the piano displayed yet another thumbs-up.

Lin Youyou: "[Thumbs up]"

The group chat instantly fell silent. The senior brothers and sisters all knew of this junior sister who had been admitted to the Vienna Conservatory of Music, and the newly enrolled freshmen and sophomores also knew of this legendary senior sister from the same cohort as Senior Brother Li An.

Jia Mingyu: "Dead girl, you finally decided to show up. What date is your flight?"

Lin Youyou: "Noontime on the 8th."