"Wow! He seems good."
"Hush! Stop talking! He is far from good. He is wonderful!"
The audience talked in whispers. Qin Guan felt neither constrainted nor hurried, as they had originally imagined.
By then, he was in character. He was Paris, the man who had fallen in love with Juliet. If it hadn’t been for Romeo’s interference, he would have made her happy. His own heart had been buried along with Juliet.
Suddenly, Qin Guan knelt before her grave, shedding tears of sorrow as he delivered his lines loudly.
Everyone was shocked by his performance. There was no more whispering, only astonishment at his perfect performance.
The beach was as silent as a grave. Everyone was absorbed into the play. Qin Guan buried his head into his loose costume, his grieving, desperate voice bursting out of his throat like an injured beast.
