"Strange, why does that profile look so familiar?" Watching the television, Zi Hanyan furrowed her delicate brows, feeling that she had seen this person somewhere before.
Yet despite that familiarity, she simply could not remember his name.
While she frowned in thought, on the television, the countless fans in the audience all stared fixedly at the enormous screen onstage.
The young man on the screen gently plucked the Guqin, and music instantly spilled from beneath his fingertips.
The notes rose with the breeze, telling of deep longing and revealing a faint sorrow. The melody was so sweet and pleasing, yet so mournful and poignant, like an elderly mother calling for her long-absent child, like a young wife yearning for her husband far from home.
The instant the first note sounded, everyone in the audience trembled. They felt a breeze brush their ears as the heavenly music pierced their eardrums and reached straight into their hearts.
As the prelude began, shock spread over their faces, as though they had been struck by lightning.
There was no complex mixing, no dazzling technique. Everything was so simple and unadorned.
Yet within that simplicity lay immense emotion. In the hands of this young man with a faint smile on his lips, the notes formed an incomparably moving melody.
The young man's gentle voice seemed to possess a gravitational pull. From the moment he began to sing, it drew in everyone's heart and mind.
They were all deeply shaken. They could hardly imagine anyone making his voice sound so perfect, so rich and magnetic.
If He Zihan's rendition of "The Mortal World" had been flowing water turned to song, clear and lovely, then the young man's rendition was tender and sorrowful, lingering like an unbroken thread.
It felt like mountain valleys and drifting clouds cherishing