One of the most beautiful moments in Four Hands comes when Kang Bi-o and Choi Jeong-yo sit together at the piano.
They are happy.
There is no rivalry between them in that moment. No jealousy, no desperate need to prove who is better.
They simply play together.
And they say something that becomes much more haunting when we look back on it:
“Let’s remember this moment.”
At first, it sounds like a warm line between two young musicians sharing a perfect memory.
But there is something unusual about the music accompanying that happiness.
The piece is Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 106:
“Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit.”
Usually translated as:
“God’s time is the very best time.”
BWV 106 is also known as Actus Tragicus, one of Bach’s early cantatas associated with death and funeral rites.
That raises a fascinating question.
Why would Four Hands place music about death in one of Bi-o and Jeong-yo’s happiest moments?
Perhaps the music is telling us something that the characters themselves do not yet know.
What Is Bach’s BWV 106?
Bach is believed to have composed BWV 106 around 1707 or 1708, when he was still a young composer.
The cantata is widely understood to have been written for a funeral, although exactly whose funeral inspired the work remains uncertain.
Its subject, however, is unmistakable.
It is a meditation on life, death, human mortality, faith, and what lies beyond our control.
The opening words give the work its title:
“Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit.”
God’s time is the very best time.
The cantata then confronts a simple truth: human beings live, but human beings must also die.
This is not merely sad background music.
Death and the limits of human life are at the heart of the composition.
And that makes its placement in Four Hands especially intriguing.
Bi-o and Jeong-yo Are Happy When the Music Appears
This is what makes the scene so powerful.
BWV 106 does not appear when Bi-o and Jeong-yo are fighting.
It does not accompany an obvious tragedy.
Instead, it appears while the two young pianists are together and seemingly at their happiest.
They play.
They smile.
And they say:
“Let’s remember this moment.”
Without knowing the meaning of BWV 106, the line sounds simple:
This is a wonderful moment. Let’s never forget it.
But once we understand the music, the same words begin to sound different.
Perhaps:
Remember this moment, because it will not last forever.
Suddenly, the scene feels less like a celebration of happiness and more like a memory being preserved before something disappears.
It is almost as if the music knows what is coming before Bi-o and Jeong-yo do.
Four Hands Did Not Play Music About Death When Their Happiness Ended
For me, this is the most interesting part of the scene.
Four Hands did not wait until tragedy arrived to use music associated with death.
It placed that music inside the happiness itself.
That distinction matters.
In real life, we rarely know when we are experiencing something for the last time.
The last carefree dinner with someone.
The last conversation before a relationship changes.
The last time two friends laugh without resentment between them.
The last moment before competition, jealousy, disappointment, or loss enters the room.
We usually recognize those moments only later.
That is why the words—
“Let’s remember this moment.”
—become surprisingly painful.
Bi-o and Jeong-yo do not yet know what the audience may eventually understand:
some moments become precious precisely because they cannot be repeated.
Does BWV 106 Foreshadow an Actual Death?
Not necessarily.
It would be too speculative to argue that the use of BWV 106 proves that someone in Four Hands will literally die.
There is another possibility.
Death in storytelling does not always mean physical death.
Relationships can die.
Childhood can end.
Trust can disappear.
A version of ourselves can cease to exist.
And a period of happiness can end without anyone realizing that it has ended until much later.
Seen this way, BWV 106 could symbolize something broader:
the death of Bi-o and Jeong-yo’s happiest period together.
The end of the time when they could simply sit beside each other and play.
The end of a relationship untouched by comparison.
Or perhaps the collapse of the world that one of them believed in.
If so, the happy piano scene is not simply a beautiful memory.
It may be one of the most important scenes for understanding everything that follows.
The Real Tragedy Between Bi-o and Jeong-yo May Not Be About Who Plays Better
A central tension in Four Hands naturally invites comparison.
Who is the greater pianist?
Kang Bi-o?
Or Choi Jeong-yo?
But perhaps that is not the most important question.
There was once something more valuable than winning between them.
Before recognition became so important.
Before they were compared.
Before one was chosen and the other was left behind.
Before music became connected to pride, validation and pain.
There was a moment when playing together was enough.
That matters especially for Bi-o.
For him, music increasingly seems connected to something deeper than performance itself.
It becomes tangled with his desire to be recognized, chosen and loved.
And once that happens, Jeong-yo is no longer simply the person beside him at the piano.
He also becomes the person against whom Bi-o measures himself.
That may be the real tragedy of their relationship.
Not simply:
Which pianist wins?
But:
How did two people who once loved making music together become capable of hurting each other through the very thing that connected them?
“God’s Time Is the Very Best Time”
The title of BWV 106 becomes even more interesting in this context.
Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit.
God’s time is the very best time.
We cannot decide when good fortune will enter our lives.
We cannot decide when misfortune will arrive either.
Something happening to another person today can happen to us tomorrow.
Someone who seems permanently beside us may not always be there.
And no matter how carefully we plan our lives, there are limits to what we can control.
So what can we actually do?
Perhaps the answer is much simpler than we expect.
Love the people who are with us now.
Laugh while we can still laugh together.
Play while we can still play together.
And when a truly happy moment arrives—
remember it.
That is why Bi-o and Jeong-yo’s words now feel different:
“Let’s remember this moment.”
The first time, they sound happy.
After understanding BWV 106, they sound a little sad.
But perhaps they also become more beautiful.
Did the Music Know What Was Coming Before They Did?
The story of Four Hands is not over yet, so we should be careful not to treat BWV 106 as proof of one specific future event.
But knowing the meaning of Bach’s cantata changes the way this scene feels.
The music seems almost to whisper something to Bi-o and Jeong-yo:
Happiness does not last forever.
So remember this.
Remember what it felt like before everything became complicated.
Whatever eventually happens between Bi-o and Jeong-yo, this scene may be worth keeping in mind until the very end.
Because no matter how badly their relationship deteriorates, we already know one important thing.
There was once a time when they did not see each other as rivals.
They were simply two people who wanted to make music together.
And perhaps the final question of Four Hands will not be:
Which of them becomes the greater pianist?
Perhaps it will be:
Can Bi-o and Jeong-yo ever look at each other that way again?