Dechtire's many years of music study had indeed not been wasted.
The dense harp strings were very tight, which for someone who had never touched them before, could scrape their fingers raw after plucking the strings for a while, which is why excellent musicians always have calluses on their hands.
But Dechtire had no calluses on her body, yet she was still absorbed in playing, as if there was some enchanting magic in the gaps between the strings, keeping her tirelessly moving back and forth within the grip and release, inflicting layers of deepening pain on her skin.
It was unclear whether this was her usual hobby, or if she was just instinctively exploring new uses for the harp based on experience.
At least Jiang Lu couldn't detect any awkwardness in her.
"Yes, that's it, now let go of your hand!"
With her upper body suspended in the air, Dechtire shook her head and called out.
