In the small theater, music that was both gorgeous and fluid quickly arose from a whisper to a crescendo.
The theater's sound equipment was all top-of-the-line, and the piano on the stage was one of the finest models from Steinway.
The guests at the scene all maintained silence, intently listening to the original composition brought forth by the young pianist.
Lu Mian leaned against the back of her chair, her eyelashes slightly lowered—in truth, she had no idea that Shao Yunxuan was capable of arranging music.
She became interested for a moment, her body slightly leaning forward, her left hand casually resting on the armrest wrapped in bandages, while her right index finger absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair, at ease and leisurely.
However, as a few notes leapt out, Lu Mian's finger, originally twining her hair, suddenly paused.
She lazily raised her eyes to glance at the stage, and after listening for about ten seconds, a low "heh" escaped her lips, casual yet devilish.
