With that, he flicked both sleeves, and a clear melody flowed from his lips.
Pei Ye's eyes instantly widened, his hair trembling.
The old man before him actually took on a woman's gentle, graceful air. His voice was like a clear flute piercing the clouds, liquid-bright and lilting, steadier and richer even than Yi Chengxin's. But the greatest difference lay in its emotion.
This passage told of the white snake leaving the immortal grass to meet her lover. The performance onstage earlier had always carried a hazy chill, the white snake wavering within her own feelings; the old man's rendition now sounded far brighter and more resolute. This white snake seemed to have long since decided to descend to the mortal world, held back only by immortal law, lending it less mistiness and greater tension.
Pei Ye really had heard very little opera, but listening to these two passages today, he felt the ringing, flowing voices stir his emotions, truly leaving him somewhat entranced.
When the passage ended, before the old man could ask, he could not help saying, "Miss Yi's seemed to suit the character of this opera better, but personally, I prefer yours."
The old man immediately burst into laughter, almost taking him for a kindred spirit.
He could not resist asking again, "Then what did you think of the final act? How was the final act, 'Returning the Blood-Stained Grass'?"
"It was very good too, very moving, but..." Pei Ye hesitated. "For some reason, it felt weaker than the preceding acts."
Ji Yun suddenly laughed beside them. The old man shot him a glare, but sighed with a smile. "Fair enough!"
As he spoke, the old man took a large folded volume from a cabinet, dusted it off, and handed it to Pei Ye with a smile.