Chapter 398: Reversed?

Lin Sicheng wrote furiously, and one by one, the fresh instrumental scores were completed.

After nearly an hour, he finally put down his pencil and straightened his back.

Several Experts perked up: Were the scores finished?

Liu Hao stood up subconsciously, just about to lean in for a look, but was pulled back by Xiao Yinan.

We'll be able to hear it soon enough; there's no need to be in such a rush for a minute or two.

Sure enough, Lin Sicheng handed the scores to Xiao Yuzhu and asked her to go make copies.

Two copies for everyone: one for the newly arranged full score, and one for the individual instrumental parts each musician was responsible for. Whether it was the folk music teachers or the observing Experts and professors, everyone got a set.

Whether it was the full score or the individual parts, they were incredibly detailed. Being professionals, they understood at a glance: when to strike the drum, when to use the clappers, when to play the Flute, and when to pluck the Zheng.

The tempo, the exact position in the musical phrase, the technique to be used, the sound effect required to be produced... and so on, were all clearly marked on the scores.

Only the lead Five-String Pipa player and the Thirteen-string Zheng player looked at the scores as if stunned: their expressions a mix of suspicion and confusion, astonishment and bewilderment. This was because the scores Lin Sicheng had given them were different in many places from what they had learned in the past or what they usually played.

Take the Wheel Fingering of the Pipa, for example: whether it was what the Pipa player learned as a child or what they performed after joining their unit, as long as it was a Wheel Fingering section, no matter how many strings were wheeled or how many notes were produced, the requirement was always for uniform volume and even rhythm.

But on Lin Sicheng's score, every instance of Wheel Fingering required a gradual change in volume.

The problem was, this was Wheel Fingering; on average, one had to play ten or more notes per second. If a gradual change in volume was required, how fast would those five fingers pressing the frets have to move?

Then there was the Twisting Strings: the Pipa player had been playing for decades, and whenever Twisting Strings was mentioned, it was implicitly understood to be twisting two strings. But on Lin Sicheng's score, there were not only three-string twists, but in many places, even four-string twists?

This was no longer a question of whether it was easy to play or how high the difficulty was, but rather that she had never learned it at all...

After looking it over back and forth twice and confirming she hadn't misread it, the Pipa player stared blankly at her own hands: to be honest, she really couldn't play this score. The Zheng score was slightly better, but in the eyes of the Zheng player, the improvement was limited: although it didn't have as many techniques as the Pipa score that the musicians had never even learned, this Zheng score was detailed to an almost harsh degree.

For example, the Tremolo Chant: most of the thirteen strings could produce this note and effect, but Lin Sicheng specifically marked that it must be played at the seventh string's fret position. Then there was the Scraping: all along, musicians had used their artificial nails to sweep across, but Lin Sicheng required the use of a Reverse Finger Flick (touching the strings with the edge of the palm). Then there was the Wheel Fingering, how many notes per second... and the Rapid Shaking, how long each finger needed to sustain the note... and even more extreme: many techniques that could clearly be pressed vertically were required by the score to be pressed at an angle?

And so on, and so on... The Zheng player stared at the score, eyes glazed over.

It wasn't that it couldn't be played, but that much of it went against his usual performance habits; to play it skillfully and completely would take at least eight to ten days of practice.

Seeing the two staring with wide eyes and saying nothing, Lin Sicheng smiled: "Is it hard to play?"

Both nodded in unison: Hard to play? That was an understatement.

It felt like someone was deliberately making things difficult.

Lin Sicheng thought for a moment: "How about this, you can modify it according to your usual playing habits, let's look at the overall effect first!"

Both let out a huge sigh of relief and got up to get their pencils.

Li Jingting had been following along, and after looking at the two instrumental scores, he was lost in thought.

He remembered when they were choreographing, Lin Sicheng's requirements for dance postures were precise to the point of being abnormal: how high to raise a hand, how many degrees to tilt the hip, and even the angle formed when the fingertips touched the cheek.

Wasn't it very similar to this?

At the time, everyone felt he was nitpicking, deliberately making things difficult, and that it was completely useless. But looking at it now, was it useless?

With that precedent, calling Lin Sicheng difficult now seemed a bit ridiculous. Furthermore, as a professional classical dance professor, he was more professional than the two folk musicians.

After pondering it back and forth, Li Jingting could roughly understand why Lin Sicheng would put forward so many strange and harsh requirements.

To put it simply: on the same instrument, at different frets, using different techniques to play the same note, the resulting resonance, frequency, range, conduction, transposition, as well as the effects of Overtones and cents would have varying degrees of difference.

Not to mention, the instruments used today were different: the traditional Pipa was four-stringed, but the main melody today used a Five-String Pipa.

The traditional Guqin was twenty-one-stringed, but the one used for harmony today was thirteen-stringed.

As a result, the sound effects produced would be worlds apart.

The key was that both instruments were of the extremely rare variety: although the Five-String Pipa was a mainstream instrument in the Tang Dynasty, it had disappeared after the Song Dynasty and had only gradually revived in the last few years.

But what had been restored was only the body structure of the instrument, not the technique: to put it bluntly, the current playing technique for the Five-String Pipa was just temporarily pieced together: part of it came from the four-string Pipa, and part came from the somewhat similar Five-String Ruanxian.

The Thirteen-string Zheng was much the same: it was also a mainstream instrument of the Tang Dynasty, but it didn't decline until around the Ming Dynasty; there were a few surviving techniques, but only a few.

What was still being used were the traditional techniques for the twenty-one-string instrument.

Knowing that the two folk musicians might not know them, Lin Sicheng had specifically marked them out, but he hadn't expected that even with such clear markings, the two still wouldn't know them. But this couldn't be blamed on the folk musicians: these two instruments were just their side jobs, used less than once a year, so who would delve into this?

With this thought, Li Jingting looked at Lin Sicheng: "I know a teacher who can play the Thirteen-string; he's at the Central Conservatory of Music. I'll make a call later and ask him when he's free!"

Lin Sicheng was stunned, his face full of joy: "Thank you, Professor Li!"

He had just been thinking about whether to call Wang Qizhi to ask.

"Don't be in such a hurry to thank me!" Li Jingting waved his hand, "The key is the Five-String Pipa; if you're talking about someone who can play with pure ancient techniques, there really isn't anyone!" Lin Sicheng nodded: That was normal.

Because there were no application scenarios, even if one learned it, it was like a "dragon-slaying skill"—it might not be used once in a lifetime.

The key was that there was nowhere to learn it: in about five more years, the Dunhuang Academy's Han-Tang Music Research Institute would publish relevant Thesis papers.

To form a systematic technical theory would take at least eight or nine years...

After a slight pause, Li Jingting pointed to the score: "If it really doesn't work, try changing it, change it to four strings?"

It didn't need to be changed, and it couldn't be changed.

As the saying goes, a miss is as good as a mile...

Seeing Lin Sicheng shake his head, Li Jingting said nothing more, but muttered to himself:

Looking at the score, the harmony only accounted for thirty or forty percent of the entire piece. Within that thirty or forty percent, the Thirteen-string's proportion was less than one-tenth; if it really didn't work, using a twenty-one-string to make do wasn't impossible.

But the Five-String Pipa was the lead instrument, accounting for a full seventy percent of the piece.

The effect produced by playing with non-standard techniques would certainly be unsatisfactory.

However, Li Jingting only muttered to himself; whether the piece could be used and whether it could live up to "Liu Yao" was another matter—they had to see the effect after the harmony first.

While he was pondering, the musicians prepared to take their places, and Lin Sicheng gave a slight nod.

The Fangxiang player raised the Copper Hammer and struck it with force:

"Dang~ dang~ dang~," the bell sound resonated throughout the hall.

Crisp, full, and pleasant to the ear.

The interval between the notes was extremely long, nearly two seconds, but the timbre was extremely coherent.

The sound quality was even more unique: the high notes were crisp and bright, the mid-range was sonorous and gorgeous, and the low notes were rich and deep.

Especially those first few notes, like a morning bell, deafening and awakening.

A group of Experts looked at each other: the Fangxiang doesn't have many uses; even in a classical dance troupe, you wouldn't see one once or twice a year.

But that didn't stop them from being able to listen: isn't this exactly those few notes from when the score was first being deciphered, where the sound was deep and muffled, like a bell falling into water and knocking against a stone?

It was the same Huangzhong Mode, the same Central C, and the same intervals of silence, yet when played on a Pipa, it was no different from noise. But when played on the Fangxiang, it was both solemn and simple, yet also joyful and fluid.

If you compare them, it really is like one is in the heavens and the other is on the ground...

Just as they were stunned, the bell sound paused slightly, and the sound of a Zheng quietly rose.

The rhythm was fast, and the timbre was extremely distinctive: suddenly like waves surging in an ancient pool, deep and resonant. Suddenly like water trickling over stones, crisp and pleasant, then suddenly like autumn cicadas flapping their wings, clear and melodious, then suddenly like bamboo shadows sweeping the moon, light and lingering.

In the lingering resonance, there was a texture like sand, as if dry branches were scraping against hard pottery, or broken jade falling onto stone steps.

The key is, these two segments... aren't they the third and fourth segments from when the score was being deciphered?

At the time, when played on the Pipa, it felt deep and muffled, but when switched to the Zheng, it actually gave one the feeling of a phoenix Nirvana, reborn through fire. Cheng Nianjia looked on in amazement, stretched her neck to look, and then paused: seven strings and seven bridges, both ends square, it looked a bit like a Se.

But it only looked like one; this thing is called a Zhazheng, also known as a seven-string zither or tile zither, and it belongs to a type of Guqin.

Like the Five-String Pipa and the Thirteen-string Zheng, they are all Tang Dynasty instruments, but the Zhazheng is a bit better than the former two; at least the instrument and the techniques have been passed down. Although it is not a mainstream instrument, it is used in local operas in places like Hebei, Fujian, and Guangxi, whereas it is rarely used in modern classical music and dance.

So, given to Cheng Nianjia, she could neither play it nor compose for it.

In the moment of distraction, the zither sound stopped quietly, followed by four crisp sounds: "Clack~ clack~ clack~ clack."

This is the Paiban; it is both a rest and a modulation sign. Once the Paiban sounds, it indicates that one section has been finished and the next is about to begin.

Sure enough, the scene suddenly went quiet, but after an interval of only three or four seconds, there was a "whew" sound.

Extremely loud and bright, like the chirping of orioles and swallows, winding and long.

A group of Experts subconsciously looked up: Shakuhachi?

If you were to say it was a slightly thicker Xiao with only five holes, that wouldn't be wrong. But the sound quality and timbre produced were fundamentally different: when high, it was as crisp as a silver bell, like the cry of a phoenix or the shriek of a crane; when low, it was as delicate as silk, like wind brushing against the eaves...

Huh, wait, wind brushing against the eaves?

Cheng Nianjia was stunned for a moment: isn't this those two segments that were played on the Guqin, which were particularly strange and extremely unpleasant to hear?

At the time, it was like having phlegm stuck in one's throat while crying, that kind of miserable, sticky, and clinging feeling.

Listening to the notes carefully again... that's right, it is those two segments.

But switched to the Shakuhachi, where is that miserable, sticky, sorrowful feeling?

In a daze, before the Shakuhachi had finished playing, the Pipa suddenly sounded, entering the main melody.

Instinctively, Cheng Nianjia frowned: I don't know if it's an illusion, but the moment the Pipa sounded, did it suddenly drop several grades in quality?

If the previous opening and harmony segments gave one a feeling of being stunning and eye-catching, then as soon as the Pipa was added, it gave one a very ordinary, very mediocre feeling?

It was as if, halfway through an exquisite banquet, a basket of coarse, throat-scratching corn buns was suddenly served.

Listening carefully again: the modulation was not very coherent, showing some rawness and awkwardness. The musical intent was clearly somewhat thin, far from the heavy, harmonious, and unified feeling of the previous harmony segments.

What Cheng Nianjia could hear, the others could hear even better.

Especially Li Jingting and Xiao Yinan; the two looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

A problem with the score?

Most likely not...

Subsequently, various instruments sounded one after another: the Sheng was clear and ethereal, like a clear spring on a snowy mountain. The Guqin was mellow and distant, dissolving like green water in a lotus pond.

The Four-String Pipa was clanging and powerful, the Small Drum was grand and majestic, the Loude was soft and pleasant, with a long lingering resonance.

Seven or eight kinds of instruments blended like water and milk, their actions and intentions in agreement, harmonious to the extreme.

Only the Five-String Pipa and the Thirteen-string Zheng: they were out of place, even giving one a feeling of being at odds with each other.

A group of Experts looked at one another.

If it were a piece like this, it certainly couldn't be used to accompany the dance for "Liuyao".

Because the shortcomings were obvious: the Pipa was dry and stiff, the Thirteen-string Zheng was rough and muddy. This master and assistant pair dragged the overall effect down by several grades.

But this was not a problem with the score or the music, but rather caused by the techniques of the Pipa player and the Thirteen-string Zheng player.

So, what if one could find specialized musicians who could fully satisfy Lin Sicheng's requirements?

The Experts felt: nine times out of ten, it would be worthy of "Liuyao".

The logic on the road is simple: the harmony is so perfect, so harmonious, there is no reason for the main melody Pipa to be composed worse than the harmony instruments. This is what is most shocking.

What is even more shocking is the contrast between the front and the back.

To use an analogy: when deciphering the score, it was like a pile of dung. After the harmony, it suddenly turned into a bowl of delicacies.

The former made one want to vomit when smelling it, the latter made one drool.

The principle is not hard to understand: the Zheng, Loude, Zhazheng, and the like are all plucked string instruments; although the techniques differ, the music theory and sound production principles are roughly the same, so it wouldn't be too unpleasant when played on a Pipa.

But if one uses a Pipa to play segments for the flute, Sheng, Shakuhachi, or even the Fangxiang and Paiban, it would be strange if it didn't sound unpleasant.

What they don't understand is this method of Lin Sicheng's: assume first, then verify?

With known conditions and known theorems as a premise, assume a result, and then reverse-engineer the process.

To give the most appropriate example: winning five million on a two-yuan bet.

The probability is even smaller than that. So in the eyes of professionals, this method is not only ridiculous but also impossible to succeed. But when it comes to Lin Sicheng, it works every time: he does it when choreographing, and he does it when arranging music?

Once could be called luck, but twice in a row?