Unlike the others around him, who lowered their heads in fearful deference and stared at their toes, terrified that one glance too many might bring disaster upon them, Song Qingshu looked carefully inside. Behind the curtain, he saw the faint outline of a graceful figure slowly entering.
"Huh, it's Shen Biqun?" Though the curtain prevented him from seeing her face, Song Qingshu could tell whether it was the same person from her figure and footsteps. Especially that unique, subtle fragrance about her, neither quite orchid nor musk—it was unforgettable after a single whiff.
"Step forward one at a time and perform the piece you are best at. Once you are done, wait outside for the results," the steward said.
Shen Biqun was actually the judge? Song Qingshu was somewhat surprised, but on second thought, it was only to be expected. Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting were ultimately things the Han Chinese excelled at. In all of Shangjing City, there was probably no one more accomplished than Shen Biqun in the art of the qin, so naturally there was no more suitable candidate.
One after another, the applicants stepped forward to perform. Song Qingshu had initially been full of fighting spirit, but now his heart gradually sank. After all, he had only crammed at the last minute, while those who had come to apply were renowned masters from all over, each immersed in the way of the qin for decades. How could his skill possibly catch up in such a short time?
Though he had previously been a complete layman, after these two days of instruction, Song Qingshu could easily judge the quality of qin playing. He roughly counted and found that at least eight people present were better than him. Yet only one pipa master would be hired this time.