Chapter 617 The Last of the Mohicans (the last two days, ask for a monthly pass)

  Liu Qingshan also rushed to the guardrail, and then saw a hundred strange-looking people sitting on the road among the crowd.

  Different from the well-dressed people in the city, most of these men are topless, with various ornaments hanging on their chests, and various marks are painted on their faces.

  The women inside are also wearing robes, and their bodies are also covered with ornaments.

   Some people held signs in their hands, and they were a little far away, so Liu Qingshan couldn't see the words on the signs clearly.

   Some people shouted loudly, it may be their own language, so they couldn't understand.

  Among the crowd, there was also a very eye-catching elderly man, wearing a crown full of feathers. From the looks of it, he might be a more prestigious elder in the tribe, or a chief.

  Looking at their yellow skin and black hair, Liu Qingshan suddenly felt very close.

  Indians are indeed of the yellow race, and they may even have the same blood as the yellow race living in China.

  Although the American continent and the Eurasian continent are completely separated, in fact, the width of the Bering Strait connecting the two continents is only more than one hundred miles.

  If there is severe cold, the Bering Strait is frozen, and people can pass through the ice, from the Eurasian continent to the American continent on foot.

  At this time, the police had already rushed into the scene. This parade had caused traffic in the entire city to be paralyzed by half, and it must be resolved immediately.

   But in the face of these Indians, the police are helpless, let alone them, even the president can't control them.

  This is the most sensitive issue. Using violence to disperse will definitely not work. I don’t know how many people will be condemned.

  Then it can only be changed to persuasion and negotiation. It is best to invite these uncles to the city hall and have a good chat with those officials.

  Unexpectedly, these Indians were very stubborn, and they just waved the sign in their hands, which read:

   "Give us back our lost lands."

  The policemen were suffering from headaches. The team leader was Sergeant Fred of the Southern Branch of the Los Angeles Police Department. He was as anxious as an ant on a hot pot now, and he was ready to kneel down for these uncles.

   Sheriff Fred has also seen big scenes. He knows that if this situation continues, it will definitely become more and more troublesome. If someone fishes in troubled waters, there may be big trouble.

   It seems that only the D team can be dispatched. First, please get these guys into the car.

   Team D is the number of their SWAT team.

  At this time, there was a faint continuous roar in the sky. As the huge roar got closer and closer, everyone looked up and saw a helicopter hovering above, with the letters CBS printed on it.

  Fred immediately cursed in his heart: Damn CBS, what are these guys doing to join in the fun.

  He knows best that these media, like sharks that smell blood, will appear wherever incidents break out.

  Looking at this posture, it must be a live broadcast.

  Live broadcast, Fred immediately put away the strong idea just now. This matter has exceeded his scope of authority, so let's wait for the higher-ups to resolve it.

  The helicopter lowered the ladder, and a young female reporter skilfully climbed down and landed among the group of Indians, holding a microphone in her hand, and began to speak.

  It seems that being a reporter is not easy, and sometimes you even have to be a special soldier.

   At the same time, this beautiful woman appeared on many TV sets, as well as her sweet and somewhat wild voice:

  "Dear viewers, I am your old friend Linda, and I am now in Downey Street in Los Angeles, and I am broadcasting live for you..."

  “We can see that there are about a hundred aborigines at the scene. Their request is very simple, they just want to return to their land.”

   "We all know that they were originally the owners of this land, but why can't the government satisfy their legitimate demands..."

   This reporter named Linda gave a generous statement. For the TV station, standing on the perspective of the aborigines is politically correct.

  The reason why the term aborigines are used instead of Indians is also particular, because the term Indians is inherently insulting.

   After introducing the scene, Linda began to interview the aborigines. Some of them could speak English, and they all started to talk with their hands.

  From the expressions on their faces, the audience can feel the anger in their hearts across the TV screen.

  It means that the history is a bit long, starting from several centuries ago, and it is estimated that it will not be finished until dark.

  These aborigines are also very interesting. Some people say that the people next to them are not idle. They take out the very ancient musical instruments of their own people and play them beside them, just like accompaniment.

  The musical instruments in their hands include flutes and pan flutes, okari similar to xun, and jungle drums, etc., with distant and desolate sounds.

   Even on the streets of big cities, playing it seems to bring people into the vast forest.

  Thinking about the tragic experience of these aborigines, the music sounds even more sad and desolate, making the audience in front of the TV feel a sense of loneliness and tears.

  During the scene, Liu Qingshan also felt his nose sore, while Sister Zhang beside him was already sobbing softly.

   There is also Lao Cui, who also has red eye circles. Those of them who are engaged in music are more emotional.

  Old Cui twitched his nose vigorously: "We really should do something!"

   "Can you give them land?" Sister Zhang retorted dissatisfiedly, with a strong nasal voice, probably just now.

  Liu Qingshan suddenly spoke up: "We really can't give them food and land, but we can make our own voice, to the government and to the whole world!"

   "Boss, you can't go. If we follow suit, will the nature be different?"

   Although Sister Zhang is usually careless, she is still clear about key issues.

   "I'm talking about using music to make a sound, let's go, let's step onto our stage together!"

  Liu Qingshan has already taken extremely firm steps, while walking, humming an ancient melody to the two of them.

  The melody is not complicated. Those two have been immersed in music for a long time, and Lao Cui is a singer-songwriter, so it is not difficult to master.

   It took a lot of effort before they squeezed to the front, but there was still a row of heavily armed policemen in front of them, blocking the way.

  Don’t look at the police not daring to provoke the aborigines, they are not polite to these spectators. A special police officer pointed at Liu Qingshan and the three of them with wide eyes and shouted sharply: “Stop your steps!”

  Liu Qingshan held up his hands: "We have a way to convince those aborigines."

   "Are you Indians too?" The special police looked at their complexion, a little puzzled.

  Liu Qingshan nodded accordingly: "Yes, we are aborigines who have integrated into modern society, but we have a common language."

  The special police did not dare to make up their minds, so they hurriedly reported to the sheriff.

  Fred was dubious, but seeing Sister Zhang's afro and Lao Cui's long hair, he felt quite Indian.

  So after a simple search, the three aborigines were put in.

   Anyway, he has no other way now, why not try, what if it succeeds?

   "Are you also aborigines, are you here to support your partners?" A microphone was poked in front of Liu Qingshan, and it was the host Linda who found new material and hurried over to interview.

  Liu Qingshan really didn't know that the live broadcast was going on. He said noncommittally: "I think everyone has the right to fight for life and freedom."

  When he appeared on TV, Liu Qingshan's old friend, the famous car designer Mr. Thomas, was sitting on the sofa at home watching TV.

   Suddenly seeing Liu Qingshan appearing on the screen, Thomas jumped up from the sofa in shock:

   "Oh, that's incredible, Liu, my friend, when did you become an Indian?"

  Xiao Li, who was in the innermost layer of the crowd, whistled vigorously: "Liu, you speak so well!"

   This guy is just afraid of the chaos of the world, so he kept pushing in. After being stopped by the special police, this guy still yelled:

   "I also have aboriginal blood flowing in my body. My old grandmother is a great aboriginal woman!"

   Guess his blond, blue-eyed old grandmother would be so angry and whipped with a cane if she watched TV.

  The host Linda was also taken aback by what Liu Qingshan said: she is indeed an aborigine who has received modern civilization education, and she speaks well.

  She was about to exchange a few more words, but saw that the three newcomers had already walked towards the old chief.

  The old chief sat on the ground, looked at Liu Qingshan calmly, and said in English:

   "Children, thank you for your support, but you are not my people, please leave this place of right and wrong."

  With the eyes of the old man, of course he can see that although these three people are also of yellow race, they are definitely not their clansmen.

  Liu Qingshan bowed slightly: "Elder, please allow us to use music to express our voice to the world."

   After finishing speaking, he picked up a flute from the ground beside the old chief.

   This is a musical instrument invented and used by the Indians. It is usually called the Gaina by them, and it is a clarinet.

  Old Cui begged for an Okari from an aborigine, tried it in his mouth, and quickly figured out the tone of his voice.

   This thing is somewhat similar to the ancient Xun in Huaxia. They are the most primitive musical instruments and are easier to play.

  Sister Zhang took a look and asked for a pan flute. In ancient China, there were pan flutes. In Qu Yuan’s Nine Songs, there is such a verse: "Who thinks when you blow the difference".

  The unevenness here refers to the pan flute, and the flute pipes are uneven.

  What will these later aborigines do? The hostess Linda was a little strange, and quickly called the live broadcast director to point the camera at the three of Liu Qingshan.

  I saw the three sitting on the ground slowly, in the shape of a character, with Liu Qingshan in the middle, slowly raising the Gaina flute: "This song is dedicated to the last Mohicans."

  The Mohicans are a branch of the Indians, who were almost wiped out because of massacres.

  Liu Qingshan used to like this piece very much, and even bought Gaina flute online and practiced it specially.

  Now, because of practicing martial arts, the breath is longer and thicker, and it is more handy to play.

  The desolate and distant sound of the Gaina flute sounded, and then the sounds of the pan flute and Okari gradually blended in.

  People around only felt a vast and ancient ancient atmosphere blowing towards their faces, as if it was a call from ancient times.

  Accompanied by the sad tune, all the Indians present burst into tears. This music, like the ancient ancestors, is calling for the soul of every Indian descendant.

  The old chief raised his head and looked up at the sky. He held up his palms, facing the sky, and slowly knelt on the ground.

  The clansmen did not dare to neglect, and all made the same gesture.

  They will not bow down to anyone. Even the butcher knife of the invaders did not make them surrender.

  They are kneeling down to worship their ancestors, this ancient nation, the glory, humiliation, massacre, and tragedy they have experienced...

  Liu Qingshan's chest also seemed to be surging with fire, and the Gaina flute in his hand seemed to be blown apart by him.

   "Hey yeah yeah yeah..."

  In Liu Qingshan's mouth, he suddenly let out a cry, as desolate as a wolf.

  Hundreds of Indians, their souls seemed to be ignited, and they shouted in unison: "Hey, ah, ah..."

  Whether it was the people present or the audience in front of the TV, their bodies trembled involuntarily, and a layer of goose bumps appeared on the surface of their skin.

   Deep down in everyone, something seems to ignite.

  In front of the TV, I don’t know how many viewers, followed by howls of unwillingness and sorrow.

   Beside Xiao Li, Mr. Jackson from the record company also raised his hands high and screamed until he was exhausted.

  His chest heaved violently, and he muttered to himself: "This is music that requires kneeling to listen to!"

  The performance of the three of Liu Qingshan is still going on, they seem to be telling the rise and fall of a nation.

  Everyone has their own country and nationality, so they all empathize with each other and are deeply moved by the music.

  Old Cui and Sister Zhang, who played with Liu Qingshan, have more personal experience. They can feel that the boss's playing skills are actually very poor, that is, the entry level, which is much worse than them.

  However, such a tune does not require any technique at all, it is a movement of the soul.

  A brand-new music world slowly opened the door in their minds.

  Both of them have a feeling: this experience will lead them to a higher level of music...

   I don't know how long it has passed, as if I have experienced a long history of rise and fall of a nation.

   I don't know how long Liu Qingshan and the others have stopped playing. Everyone is still immersed in the atmosphere just now.

   It wasn't until they saw the old chief leading the tribe and bowing slightly to Liu Qingshan and the others that people realized it.

   No one applauded, no one cheered, and everyone present bowed slightly.

   It seems that only in this way can they express their admiration.

  Liu Qingshan also saluted the old chief: "Elder, now you can take your people back to your gathering place and wait for news."

  The old chief nodded, his eyes full of vicissitudes were full of tears and a smile:

   "Thank you, our friends, welcome to visit us, you will always be our friends."

  The old chief finally led his people to leave. They walked in the modern city, and their backs gradually merged into the sea of ​​traffic, looking so desolate and tragic...

  (end of this chapter)