Ning Qing took a few steps and saw that Qin Yu seemed to be rooted on the spot.
She clutched her bag, paused, and said slowly, "Yu'er, what are you doing?"
Qin Yu tightened the paper in her hand. "It's nothing."
She pushed open the door into the piano room and sat on her stool. She picked up her score and played a few notes by herself, her eyes brightening.
Even her heart felt tight.
She looked uncertainly at the paper on the table. This was a sheet of music that she hadn't succeeded in playing for years. The writing on the sheet was wildly scribbled and rubbed on, and it looked like it had been discarded casually by someone.
But who did this paper belong to?
Qin Yu set the violin aside and leaned slightly on the back of the chair, her eyes hanging low.
