The slightly upbeat melody flowed from beneath Yue Zhao's fingers, his smile much more genuine than before. His eyes, gazing at the instrument before him, swirled with emotions, and it seemed as though he had become one with the universe.
The previously noisy square gradually quieted down, everyone was stirred by the music beside their ears, immersed in it, as if they were witnessing vivid scenes of life.
Or rather, not as if, but as if such a scene had indeed appeared before them.
Yue Zhao painted a picture in the air with his music, and as everyone watched this picture, they each had their own insights, and thus the expressions on their faces varied.
