But if it was the latter possibility...
The old lady found it very puzzling.
Why?
Was this something worth hiding?
She couldn't help growing suspicious.
"Old man."
The old lady's expression grew serious.
"Are you hiding something from me?"
"Why won't you tell me what sound you heard?"
"Don't tell me you don't know."
"You're not a three-year-old child."
"Even if you really don't know what the sound was, describe it to me."
"You can at least do that, can't you?"
The old lady stared at the old man.
There was a hint of pressure in her gaze.
The old man: ...
He regretted making a sound just then.
But it had been his immediate reaction.
Before he even realized he needed to control himself, the sound had already escaped him.
Now, faced with his wife's "relentless questioning"...
The old man had no choice.
He sighed deeply to himself.
"...It was the sound of a pipa."
The old man finally spoke before his wife could lose her temper.
"A pipa?"
The old lady swallowed back what she had been about to say.
She nodded blankly.
"Oh."
"A pipa."
"You mean the pipa you can play?"
Though his mood was complicated, the old man couldn't help smiling at his wife's words.
"Can the loquats you eat make a sound?"
The old lady realized her mistake, too.
She felt a little awkward.
"Ahem~"
She hurriedly changed the subject.
Her question just now had made her sound rather foolish.
"Oh, the sound of a pipa."
The old lady nodded.
Then a deep look of confusion appeared on her face.
"It's just the sound of a pipa, isn't it?"
"What's so hard to say about that?"
"You could've just said so."
"Why all the hemming and hawing..."