Silent Crown

Chapter 103 Vent

Chapter 103 Vent

Ye Qingxuan stared at the words and images on the blackboard, spaced out. "Professor, what’s the point of reading all of these ancient texts and trying to understand the world before us? I suddenly don’t understand." Ye Qingxuan questioned, "Why should we spend all this time on learning how to translate everything?"

"To find an explanation," Abraham answered, "To explain things."

"Explain? To be honest, Professor, I really need an explanation now." Ye Qingxuan slumped in his seat and closed his eyes. "Ever since I arrived in Avalon, I always run into things. Some…bad things. Like I suddenly entered a world that belongs to strange creatures. Everything is foreign and I can’t communicate or understand anyone. I don’t even know how to look at the world anymore."

He thought of the wild laughter and hoarse voice, and lowered his head tiredly. "Everything is normal but why does it change at night? Or do I hallucinate during the day and the craziness is the world’s true appearance? Are they wrong or am I?"

His memory had resurfaced, dragging him back to that unlucky day. Werner looked at him with a bloody face. No matter how much pain Werner was in, he still laughed crazily. Contorting his face into a demon, he roared, "All of downtown wants your life! What’s the use of letting me go? You think I’ll let you go just because you didn’t kill me? Don’t be na?ve…everyone in downtown wants you!

"You’re innocent? And innocent people can’t die?

"Where do you think we are? This is Avalon!" Suddenly, Werner expanded and turned into a menacing black figure. It raised a bone saw and sliced through corpses, spraying blood. The sky darkened and the fog was there again. An evil spirit chased after Ye Qingxuan like a shadow. The sharp voice echoed in his ears, "Purify, purify, purify…"

He wanted to reason with someone, but there was nothing to reason about. He had just wanted to buy something, but had been chased after for some reason. He had just wanted to help someone, but was almost split apart and purified. This crazy world made no sense…

"I don’t understand, Professor." Ye Qingxuan asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"Yezi, this world is complicated. Sometimes, we need something to help us understand it." Abraham gazed at him. "I often felt confused or scared of things when I was young. This world changes so quickly. Other people’s ideas change quickly too, but I’m too slow and can’t understand them.

"Because of this, I want to find a research method to help me understand these things—to find a solution. At least, you won’t be scared once you understand them."

"Professor, have you found it?" Ye Qingxuan asked, looking up.

Abraham chuckled dryly in response.

--

Late at night in the basement remodeled as the piano room, sharp notes cut through the air like a chainsaw cutting through metal. It was full of ineffable frustration and unsettling pressure.

A spaced out youth sat before the piano, blankly pressing down on the keys. The rhythm and melody that Charles had emphasized was not there.

"Stop, stop, stop. Yezi, stop." Charles reached out to stop him and shook his head, "Yezi, are you playing piano? It sounds like you’re breaking things…"

Ye Qingxuan stiffly retracted his hand. "I’m sorry. I spaced out."

"I know you’re frustrated, but you can’t keep going on like this." Unsure of what to do, Charles handed him an orange, "Here, eat some fruit and calm down."

Ye Qingxuan shook his head, "I just want to find a solution."

"Did you find one?"

"No," Ye Qingxuan huffed in exasperation and slammed down on the keys with an iron fist, "so I need to vent!" The piercing sounds of metal scraping sounded once again, echoing with frustration and anger. This was not music—this was plain fury!

Charles shook his head. Sighing, he left quietly and closed the door. It was better to leave Ye Qingxuan when he was like this. But the cacophony in the still basement resounded endlessly. The sharp melody had an indescribable hopelessness, sending chills down one’s spine.

Tritones appeared continuously like countless people wailing quietly. The music chased away all warmth and sunlight, bringing with it a cold night. In the dark winter night described by the music, aggravation and angst gathered in the sky like black clouds, casting the world into eternal darkness. Every surge in the angry music was like thunder booming across the skies.

Without realizing, Ye Qingxuan began playing the music score carved into his memory, but this time, it was pure venting. He did not worry about the art, did not bother with the notes, and did not think about sensing and controlling the aether. He threw away all concern. Ye Qingxuan was just focused on venting out his anger. Only sharp piano music sounded in the darkness.

The helplessness, confusion. and anger that had built up in his soul over the past few days was all thrown into the lonely music. Like a maniac dancing, he slammed his hand down on anything he could in despair, creating broken sounds. He shattered the silence, shattered all reason, and shattered all restraint.

The irritation and depression in Black Friday was expressed to the extreme in this crazed performance. He had never connected with the anger and…helplessness in the piece before. Confusion was born from the helplessness, and gave birth to trepidation. Frustration grew in it, followed by fury, and finally turned into an explosion of hysteria. But when the music reached its climax, the piercing sounds suddenly lowered.

The broken, angry, manic sounds became weak and soft, like murmuring in one’s ears. It was as if something was brewing in the empty music, sucking away all of its strength and the musician's soul. Ye Qingxuan had not purposely been controlling it, but he fell completely into the performance. He did not even know if he was playing the piece or if the piece was guiding him, leading his mind deeper into the melody. Like peeling a shell, layer by layer, lifting up layer by layer of disguise, he gradually sank into the soft melody. He was completely focused on the meaning of each note and measure.

He began thinking, "What is this piercing yet broken melody trying to express?" Was it anger? Or frustration? Depression? Fear? Resentment towards goals unrealized? Loneliness? Utter despair? No, it was none of that.

In an instant, lightning flashed through his heart, cutting through all confusion, ripping through all questions. For an instant, everything became ‘real.’ Ye Qingxuan flinched, eyes flying open in shock. "Guilt?"

Yes, it was guilt. It was the ‘pain’ of not having enough time, it was gambling everything to try and save something, and it was the ‘despair’ of failing in the end. It was being forced to disappoint family and friends. It was the ‘helplessness’ of missing an opportunity and never having the chance to make up for it. It was a helpless ‘guilt.’ Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt…

Throughout the dark music, every note and interval bled with guilt. For a moment, the ‘soul’ of the melody was finally revealed from the plain notes. The melody began changing wildly. Like a pool of still water suddenly rippling, consciousness suddenly glowed from within the shell. This was the life of this dark music piece—it was the ‘soul’ of the melody!

--

Charles paced outside the door with a pile of fruits in his arms. He did not know what had happened to his junior during that trip. Ye Qingxuan had changed completely, locking himself up in the basement, making everyone worry over him.

Charles had gone to the backyard of the School of Modifications to get fruit to comfort Ye Qingxuan. He wanted to fill the youth’s stomach and then have a good talk about going to the therapist. But when he finally made up his mind and opened the door, he froze.

The wailing music flowed from behind the door, echoing in his ear. It was alive, like an angry spirit softly singing a heartbreaking song.

Charles was rooted to his spot. The fruit fell to the ground but he did not care. His eyes grew wide, almost popping out of the sockets. What…the heck was this?!

He thought there was something wrong with his ears. Had this guy had locked himself in the basement, banged on the piano while venting, and somehow entered the state that all musicians dreamed of—resonating with the soul of the music?

Ye Qingxuan had gone from a student with no foundation at all to grasping the essence of the music in one step. And a dark piece filled with despair at that?

Features twisting, Charles shut the door carefully, not daring to interrupt whatever Ye Qingxuan was doing. He crept around, picking up the fallen fruits, and returned to the living room. He chewed on a banana blankly, his mind somewhere else.

The girl brushing Old Phil in the corner looked up. Seeing Charles like this, she asked in confusion, "Charles, are you okay? You look like your girlfriend just got kidnapped…"

"Nothing…" Charles mumbled numbly. After a long time, he slapped himself. When he was sure he was not dreaming, he could not help but slap his knee and mutter, "F*ck me!"