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Chapters (54)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. FEBRUARY
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. MARCH
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. APRIL
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. JUNE
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. JULY
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. AUGUST
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. NOVEMBER
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. FEBRUARY,
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. AND BEYOND
  50. Captain’s Log: Stardate Ph079
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. Also by Ryka Aoki
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Newsletter Sign-up

“However, this world is changing. Harmony is not simply reconnecting with old friends, but embracing new ones. Thus, this violin competition shall also go beyond the conservative and traditional. Whether they play classical music, new music, video game music, or music from other parts of the world, the Xinhua Phoenix Investment Bank Golden Friendship Violin Competition will find those whose musics can be shining bridges between changing communities and help us prosper together.”

Other communities? Other musics? Surely he wasn’t serious …

“Of course, some of you might be wondering if I am serious.”

The crowd fell silent. He really was benevolent and terrifying.

Mr. Tso motioned to an assistant. What the assistant held in his white-gloved hands stunned the entire room.

“This is the Leonida Stradivarius,” Mr. Tso said. “Antonio Stradivari created it during his Golden Period. It was said to have been brought as a gift from Catholic missionaries to the Qing Dynasty, and had been assumed lost to the Xinhai Revolution. However, that assumption was incorrect.”

The screen zoomed in to the violin, revealing the deep glow of spruce and maple, the dancing, effortless scroll. Here were the unmistakable lilting f-holes, the perfect sound box, carved with almost agonizing grace.

It was timeless. Utterly timeless.

“Xinhua Phoenix Bank acquired it quite some years ago, and since then, it has been kept hidden in our vaults. I think this is a shame. Don’t you?”

“Beyond a cash prize of $888,888 US dollars, the winner of the Golden Friendship Music Competition will have use of this legendary instrument for the next two years and embark on a worldwide tour, as XPIB’s ‘Phoenix Friendship Artist.’”

The audience clapped frantically, even as they tried to absorb what Mr. Tso had said. The prize money alone was far in excess of even the most prestigious violin competitions. And no one had ever placed “legendary Stradivarius, worldwide tour, and video game music” in the same conversation, let alone the same contest.

But before the audience had time to recover, another figure came to the podium. He was perhaps even more distinguished, of obvious culture—yet still unsettling because he looked just a little like a toad.

“XPIB wants all of our global ventures to be successful, and for that, we always engage the finest in partnership. For our Golden Friendship Violin Competition, I believe we have found the perfect director. Let me present the incomparable musician and scholar, Tremon Philippe.”

Tremon Philippe?

Most people in the Asian music community were quite familiar with this man. Once, he had said that it was difficult to judge competitions because one could not tell Asian musicians apart. Another time, he downgraded a Korean violinist, saying his play lacked a “fundamental European disposition.”

Yet here he was, smiling with a Chinese banker.

He bowed slightly and spoke—in pitch-perfect Mandarin.