Staccato

When the snow in Moscow falls on the strings, it becomes a lie. —— Chinese painter Lin Lan took his father's relics into the snow and bought a pocket watch engraved with Russian love words at a flea market. The moment the hands turned, he heard the unfinished performance from twenty years ago - from the piano case of the talented Moscow Philharmonic violinist Sergei Voronin. And Sergey picked up an Oriental sketchbook in a second-hand bookstore. The sketch accurately reproduced his most private playing habits. The Chinese annotation on the corner of the page was like a knife cutting through the frozen soil: "The lie of light and dust." —— When the ice on the Neva River cracked its first lines, they finally met: Lin Lan's charcoal cut open Sergei's music, exposing the old wounds dormant in the sound of the piano; Sergey's fingertips touched Lin Lan's sketch, revealing the murderous murder of his father buried under the canvas. —— "Do you want the truth, or my eyes?" In front of the fireplace on a snowy night, Sergey put his piano bow to Lin Lan's throat. But the Orientalist held his trembling wrist and drew a twisted staff on his skin: "I want the soul in your music that dare not say you love me." —— When vodka pours over unsent love letters, when the shadow of the double-headed eagle swallows the moonlight, The snow in Moscow has become the most silent accomplice—— One of them is searching for the truth about his father's death on the strings of the piano, and the other is burying the teacher's fallen glory in the paint. Purpose: "Under the frozen soil of history, only immortal art and undying love can cut through the ice made of lies, allowing the truth to be reborn in the aurora."