Yang Yuran sensed trouble brewing, steeling herself several times before reluctantly facing the issue head-on.
"He Qian's singing can't be that bad, can it?"
Fan Sirui glanced at the door that hadn't been properly shut, and considering He Qian's immense pride, he reached out to close the door completely as a precaution. Some conversations are too brutally honest, spoken without intention but received with sensitivity.
If He Qian were to overhear, it would likely wound his fragile heart.
"He is quite poor. Kong Tengyu must have realized the severity of the problem by now. Today, he openly pointed it out, although his way of expressing it was a bit extreme. He Qian would struggle greatly with the solo parts required in the new song."
Fan Sirui disclosed the truth, feeling that as an agent, he could not and should not hide it from Yuran.
