Chapter 86: Prelude

The Shanghai Theatre Academy Concert Hall was designed by the renowned architect Dong Guowu, and its architecture is among the rare examples of traditional European style in the region. The sixteen embracing russet marble columns in the foyer exude a remarkable grandeur, while the auditorium’s design is both simple and orderly, complex yet never chaotic, with a richness of layers and a restrained, elegant color palette that aligns astonishingly well with the classical music performed within. Its superb natural acoustics have been recognized by architectural experts and countless artists from both China and abroad.

For decades, the concert hall has witnessed the successful performances of countless famous musicians and various forms of concerts on its stage, as well as the spectacular classical music craze of the 1980s.

Professor Wang Ji from Fudan University’s Department of Architecture, Acoustics Division, remarked, “Generally speaking, concert halls shaped like narrow boots provide the best acoustics, as they enhance early sound reflections, making the music clearer and more focused. The Shanghai Theatre Academy Concert Hall has a similar design, so its sound quality is naturally excellent. The most important metric for judging a concert hall is reverberation time: if it’s long, the music is rich and full; if short, it’s flat and dull. But if it’s too long, clarity suffers.”

Whether for orchestral performances or opera, the hall’s vast dome restores the true timbre of sound. Coupled with world-class audio equipment, the tone is full and the music rounded, with astounding effect. Though tickets are expensive, the artistic experience is priceless.

The celebrated conductor Chen Xieyang, who has visited countless concert halls worldwide, believes, “Apart from the top-tier Vienna Musikverein, Amsterdam Concertgebouw, and Boston Symphony Hall, in terms of sound quality, the Shanghai Theatre Academy Concert Hall could rival any hall in the world.”

The hall seats 1,122, with 640 downstairs and 482 upstairs. The proscenium stage is 8.35 meters deep and 16 meters wide, with a usable area of about 100 square meters. Above the stage are adjustable acoustic panels; the hall is equipped with a Steinway Model 274 grand piano, a 60-channel lighting console, a 24-channel Yamaha sound system, 16 microphone ports at the stage, and both heating and air conditioning.

This is a place where only true musicians are honored to perform, and today it will host its first-ever examination since its founding—a mere second round of the entrance exam.

Because the issue had caused quite a stir, the university leadership was now aware of the problems in the piano department’s second round. Li Yunling requested permission from the president to hold a public examination in the concert hall. With numerous journalists and parents from outside the school, and for the sake of the institution’s reputation, the president agreed, though he considered it far from ideal.

Holding an exam in the concert hall would put immense pressure on the candidates. Beyond the solemn and imposing stage, the sight of over a thousand spectators could easily shred the nerves of the most anxious examinee.

But to avoid further escalation and to reinforce the university’s illustrious reputation, the president agreed. Perhaps only in such an extreme exam environment could the candidates’ true abilities be tested.

Pei Yancheng followed the flow of people toward the concert hall. Except for major performances, the hall was rarely opened—after all, its equipment was top-of-the-line, not meant for student recreation.

Only when master musicians or first-rate symphony orchestras from home and abroad visited would its doors be unlocked. Clearly, this public examination was also a form of crisis management, with quite a few media outlets already there to report.

All the banners made by Pei Yancheng’s supporters had been confiscated. Student union officers were organizing interested students to enter for the public exam. Most came out of curiosity, not a love of music, believing there was little to appreciate in high schoolers’ piano performances.

The piano department’s second round was originally split among three examination rooms. By the time Li Yunling arrived, each had examined about twenty candidates. The remaining twenty or so were now combined for the public exam, though most were mere foils; everyone was here for Cheng Xiaoyu, the university’s public enemy, eager to see how he would be drowned in a sea of critical spectators.

The concert hall, with its capacity for over a thousand, was now packed, with student union members maintaining order.

The tall, dignified, and scholarly president, Fan Yuewen, took the stage first with a brief address: “Respected teachers, students, candidates, parents, and supporters of the Academy, welcome. First, thank you all for your concern for our school. Secondly, we apologize for shortcomings in our work. We hope this public exam is not too late.

Since our founding in 1898, the Academy has been a university with a global outlook and an open approach. During the Drama Academy era, we advocated for combining Chinese and Western studies, pioneering the selection and sponsoring of top students for further study abroad. During the war years, we maintained international academic links and achieved distinction overseas, earning the title ‘Vienna of the East.’ After the founding of New China, our university’s first group visited the United States, restarting international cooperation and exchange. Since the Academy’s reorganization, our global reputation has soared, with world-class institutions flocking to partner with us and an international campus taking shape. The Academy has always upheld the motto of ‘seeking truth and innovation’ and embraced diversity, actively promoting musical prosperity, social development, and human progress, never ceasing to climb the peaks of world music and build a world-class university.

Students, we aim to cultivate high-caliber, innovative talents and future musical masters with an international perspective. Such a vision means openness and inclusivity, shaping global awareness, understanding diverse cultures, and learning and performing confidently with peers from different countries.

As your president and fellow alumnus, I am delighted to journey with you toward the future. Let us strive together—for our music, our world, our future!

May all candidates here perform at their best. The doors of the Academy will always be open to those who pursue musical excellence.

Thank you.”

A warm applause rose from the audience. The elegant president had once been a professor of Western music and was a graduate of the conducting department.

Most students still supported the school, but Cheng Xiaoyu had become infamous of late, his notoriety spreading, and his photoshopped images flooding the internet. Many came simply out of curiosity.

At this moment, Cheng Xiaoyu was not yet in the concert hall; he had gone off campus to buy sheet music. Although he remembered the piece he wanted to play, the score was so complex that the entire performance was, in theory, beyond human limits. He could not guarantee a flawless memory, so he needed the sheet music.

After searching two specialty shops off campus without success, Cheng Xiaoyu grew anxious. He did not wish to lose without a fight.

Meanwhile, under the supervision of the student union president, the public exam began.

The first to take the stage was a short boy, probably playing a Steinway Model 274 grand piano for the first time. He seemed quite excited, barely restraining himself from taking photos, yet he showed no signs of nervousness.

He bowed to the audience, adjusted the bench, took a deep breath, and began to play.

His first piece was the third movement of Beethoven’s “Appassionata.”

The third movement of the “Appassionata” is the most dramatic part of the entire work. It is set in a minor key, in 2/4 time, and features a fast but not excessive tempo. This movement is a sonata form. Opening with a martial fanfare that serves as a prelude, the most striking aspect is its use of consecutive diminished seventh chords, creating a mood of intensity, tension, and unease. Beethoven does not resolve these harmonies in the usual way, which greatly inspires the spirit and instantly dispels any lethargy with its vigorous music.

The third movement of the “Appassionata” Sonata is a piece brimming with energetic and triumphant spirit. Not only does it provide listeners with an emotional catharsis, but the performer also deeply experiences the composer’s state of mind during creation. For this reason, the piece is demanding of the pianist.

If played well, it could be used for graduate or performance diploma examinations; if not, even a child at the ninth or tenth grade of piano studies could muddle through.

This candidate’s performance, however, was clearly excellent. The most crucial aspect of the piece is maintaining control of the tempo; speed, though secondary, must align with the indicated markings. Fast or slow is always relative and only meaningful with a reference.

His ten fingers swept over the keys like a hurricane, his hands soaring like a storm petrel above the surging waves of the keyboard—the tempestuous melodies of the “Appassionata Sonata” expressed a tragic theme: a struggle between a valiant “self” and a timid “self,” clashing and contending, erupting with the force of a volcano, the strong “self” charging forward with unstoppable power, while the weaker self collapses with a mournful cry. The audience was enthralled by the passion of the music.

The sound was rich with emotion, and his technical command was skillful.

Given the difficulty of the “Appassionata,” the fact that the first candidate performed at such a high level made the Academy students, who had come expecting a dull exam, pleasantly surprised. They realized they might as well enjoy a piano competition.