The lights in the kitchen were bright.
The tea was ready, and Lin Wanzhou looked up with a slightly troubled expression.
"I'm not good at singing this song, 'Anhe Bridge'..."
Xu Qingyan glanced at her, continued his movements without stopping, and ladled out the baked milk.
"It's okay, we were just trying to see the effect. I'm not sure myself, but I thought singing folk music in the competition might add a niche buff."
"Right." Lin Wanzhou seemed a bit downhearted.
Xu Qingyan took a tray from the top cabinet, donned the oven gloves, and carefully placed the teapot and baked milk on it. As he cast his gaze downward, he thought that he still had much to learn about Lin Wanzhou.
He had thought that Lin Wanzhou would be able to handle this type of song, but it turned out that she couldn't quite capture that feeling. On the other hand, he could give it a try some other day, or perhaps sell it to someone else.
