Leng Zimo was known in the industry for his Golden Ear; what he saw value in should not be wrong.
But since the piece was written by her, and it was a work of many years, Luo Xiaoqian naturally did not share his confidence.
"I lack confidence in myself," she admitted.
"So you doubt my judgment?" he challenged.
The song was his choice, and she was the one he had set his sights on; her lack of self-confidence was, in effect, a doubt of his discernment.
Luo Xiaoqian's short temper flared, "You know full well that's not what I mean!"
"Then stop wasting words!" Leng Zimo sat up straight at the piano, "I'll play it through once; pay attention to the parts I've modified!"
Without giving Luo Xiaoqian a chance to retort, his hands had already touched the piano keys, and the familiar melody flowed from his fingertips.
Luo Xiaoqian stepped forward, leaning on the piano, her eyes on the score in her hands, listening.
In fact, she was quite fond of this piece personally.
