The black lacquer piano, like a noble prince, stood quietly in the corner.
Sylvan Cheney furrowed his brows: "Let me give it a try."
He wasn't sure if he could play the piano, but there was a sense of familiarity as he looked at the keys. He thought he must have played before.
"Alright." Jasmine Yale's eyes sparkled with a lively glow, her lips slightly curved.
The Cheney Residence used to have a piano room, where she once heard the sound of a piano when she was very young. She knew Sylvan could play.
Sylvan Cheney sat down at the piano and tried the keys.
Under the lights, the man's figure was slender, and his facial contours soft yet deep.
Jasmine Yale rested her chin on her hand, looking at him.
The gentle orange crystal light draped over him like a thin veil, with soft glimmers flickering on his black sweater.
After tuning, Sylvan Cheney was already quite familiar with the keys.
He became increasingly convinced that he must have played the piano before.
