“That’s called a suona! It’s a type of wind instrument with a very long history—one of the oldest instruments in Huaxia. Don’t you know anything?”
“But it looks so ugly…”
Edmond replied with layered meaning, “That’s because you’ve never heard its sound.”
“What’s so special about its sound?”
“…You’ll see. Just listen for yourself.”
“Well then, what’s that thing Tosaki Naohara is holding?”
Edmond glanced up at the stage.
“A shamisen?” Jiang Fuyue raised an eyebrow. “No wonder they call it the king of R Country’s instruments. Looks pretty decent.”
Tosaki Naohara looked up, eyes landing on the instrument in her hands. His tone was flat: “Your suona is quite special too.”
Their eyes met—then instantly broke away.
The judge announced the start of the “exchange.”
Both performers lowered their heads to inspect their instruments.
Tosaki Naohara plucked the strings to tune. Jiang Fuyue, meanwhile, was checking the suona’s movable core.
A traditional suona consists of five parts: the reed, the airplate, the invasive connector, the body, and the bell. Among them, the core is most crucial.
Traditionally, the suona’s core is a fixed single tube. In the last century, renowned wind instrumentalist Guo Yazhi invented the movable core device, allowing the suona to play chromatic scales and the full twelve-tone system—greatly enhancing its expressive range.
Twenty years ago, a reclusive performer known as Qitan Yingyue created a unique playing technique on top of the movable core invention, called A Thousand-Handed Bodhi.
From the only existing audio recording, this technique not only allowed for on-the-fly modulation of half-tones and microtones, but even let the suona be used as a transposing instrument without changing fingerings.
Even the subtle pitch deviations produced by pushing the core forward—normally unavoidable—were masterfully corrected through mouth control.
The resulting performance? Flawless.
Unfortunately, after releasing that legendary recording, Qitan Yingyue disappeared. It’s now been twenty years with no new works from him.
Judge White stared at the suona in Jiang Fuyue’s hands, momentarily lost in thought.
He had been lucky enough to hear that legendary recording once. It had left him deeply shaken. While stationed in Huaxia, he had long hoped to meet Qitan Yingyue in person.
Sadly…
“Mr. White?” someone quietly reminded him.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts and picked up the mic. “Next, we’ll have the two performers announce their chosen pieces.”
Tosaki Naohara: “My piece is Kanda Matsuri.”
Jiang Fuyue, straightforward: “Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix.”
White: “I hereby announce—the performance begins now.”
Tosaki Naohara’s gaze sharpened, and he raised his hand to strike the strings.
Almost simultaneously, Jiang Fuyue drew a breath from her dantian and blew the first note…
The suona rang out—sharp, explosive. No gentle prelude, no soft lead-in. It was a sonic bombardment from the get-go, a pure auditory shockwave.
Tosaki Naohara’s shamisen sound was instantly drowned out.
“Holy—! So this is what they mean by ‘seizing the moment with sound’!”
“Of all the instruments, the suona reigns supreme—it either sends you to heaven or marches you down the aisle. Finally witnessed it today!”
“Is this that suona that goes, ‘as soon as the tune starts and the cloth is spread, the whole village waits for the feast; some walk, some are carried, followed by a wave of white’?”
“Hold up, there’s more—‘the coffin is lifted, the dirt is shoveled, friends and family start crying, firecrackers pop, the suona blows, the front carries, the back follows.’”
“GodD*mn, Sister Yue is unstoppable!”
“No wonder they say: ‘A thousand years of pipa, ten thousand years of zither—but the suona plays a whole life!’”
“That’s not even the best line! How about: ‘First time hearing the suona, I didn’t understand. Second time—I’m already in the coffin.’”
Although the suona is often used in funeral dirges, Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix is the opposite of mournful. Its melody is passionate and jubilant, depicting a vibrant, flourishing natural world.
After a long, bright opening, the suona began mimicking various bird calls: cuckoo, dove, francolin, swallow, owl, quail…
Fingerings switched rapidly, variations were dazzling, each note bursting with the vitality of spring.
Even the foreign students—who didn’t know the song’s name—felt themselves swept into a vivid soundscape, as if immersed in a forest where birds chirped in unison.
Then came a dazzling tremolo, like sunshine bursting forth. The melody shifted—softer, more graceful—unfolding a serene pastoral scene.
On stage, Jiang Fuyue completely stole the spotlight. The audience? Transformed into her private listeners.
In the face of the suona’s kingly sound, the gentle and refined shamisen faded into obscurity. Its occasional high notes felt harsh and jarring rather than moving.
Below the stage, Principal Hu Yongwei’s eyes glimmered with a smile as he slowly nodded.
Beside him, the music teacher had already gone slack-jawed.
Even the Huaxia delegate—once anxious—gradually relaxed. Turning to Hu Yongwei, he remarked, “No wonder No. 1 High School is ranked among the top three high schools in Linhuai—not only does it have academic stars, it also has such artistically gifted students.”
He hadn’t studied the suona, but he’d attended many concerts. He could easily tell the girl’s performance was on par with those of top musicians he’d heard at the Imperial Capital Grand Theatre.
Hu Yongwei smiled, deep wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “She’s not even an arts student…”
“What? Not an arts student? Then… what a shame.”
“Not a shame—not at all,” Hu Yongwei chuckled and shook his head. “Because her academic performance is even more impressive than her musical skills.”
The delegate was stunned.
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