Backstage.
Fu Ya and Xia Xue followed Yan Hong down, their faces still adorned with their dance performance makeup, looking fresh, tender, and utterly girlish.
"Isn't this Rong Yan's show? Why is there piano music?" Xia Xue whispered.
Fu Ya, who was still basking in the afterglow of her moment in front of tens of thousands in the venue, frowned at the words, annoyance written all over her domineering face, "It must be a CD playing backstage!"
Xia Xue listened carefully, pursed her lips, and said, "That doesn't sound right, there's also a violin ensemble."
"Why are you so suspicious? She doesn't have a band, where would an ensemble come from?" Fu Ya, displeased, pushed her aside and ran backstage to peek at the stage, and instantly became so angry she was steaming, "What's going on here?"
Rong Yan!
The woman she envied so much that her teeth itched was comfortably seated at the piano, playing.
