Ting-ting-ting-ting—
The sound of the zither was at times melodious and gentle, brushing across the heart like a babbling brook, bringing a sense of pleasant ease; at other times it was compact and deep, like a driving wind and torrential rain, as if an army of thousands was charging forward with an awe-inspiring murderous intent, chilling the soul.
Hidden in the shadows, Xia Changsheng silently watched that hazy figure, deep in thought.
Chapter 200