"So this is the beauty of home in music!"
Everyone marveled at the sound of the Guqin.
But no one spoke. They simply listened in silence, quietly watching Jun Wangchen play the Guqin.
A gentle breeze brushed his sleeves as he played with an earnest air.
The Guqin's notes echoed throughout the composing room, drifting toward their feet, then suddenly rising, high and urgent, their resonance lingering in the air.
Soft and ethereal, the melody hovered between swelling and fading, then abruptly turned strong and resonant, its rising and falling rhythms seeping through every pore and flowing into their hearts.
Before they knew it, a series of heartbreaking words appeared before their eyes.
Age 26.
You watched the people around you get married, and the money you spent on wedding gifts increased each year. When you went home for the Spring Festival, your parents stopped taking you to visit relatives and started taking you on blind dates instead. You met more than a dozen girls, but every time, you felt they fell just a little short of being the one.
Age 28.
You met a girl whose situation was much like yours, and the two of you chatted on and off.
She said, "You seem pretty nice."
You took a sip of Coke and said, "So do you."
Before you were even sure whether you liked her, both sets of parents had already arranged the engagement banquet.
A week before the wedding, you went drinking with your friends.
You said, "I don't want to get married."
Your friend said, "You just think too much. Isn't this how everyone does it?"
Age 29.
You finally got married. The wedding was neither grand nor modest, and neither too many nor too few friends attended.
The money you had saved for years to