The nighttime courtyard was like a poem or painting, with stars twinkling in the deep sky and bright moonlight casting down, creating a serene and mysterious scene.
Unfortunately, the sound of the pipa, akin to the slaughter of pigs, ruined this beauty under the night sky.
In the antique room, Yang Qingqing lay flat on the floor, which had a carpet laid out. She was propped up on her elbows, with the pipa lying flat beside her. While she was reading a book, her hand continuously strummed the strings of the pipa beside her.
There was no rhythm, let alone melody, it was just random plucking.
She wore a dark blue traditional outfit from the Shu Residence, the skirt was very short, and from the back, her body curve was incredibly graceful and slender. Her petite white legs occasionally swung back and forth, making her seem very leisurely.
