Yang Qing couldn't quite believe it. His shock was so evident that even the beautiful lady playing the sanxian—professional as she was, immersed as she was in delivering her mesmerizing tunes—had a sliver of her attention break away from the instrument. No one could tell, of course; she could play it by heart.
She'd noticed him, just as she noticed everyone who was taken aback by her melody, not to mention, the young man before her with the cyan hair and an unfettered air about him wasn't bad to look at either.
She saw the change in him when he heard her song, as many did. She half expected him to close his eyes and savor it ...again, as many did. Yet just when she thought things were going as expected, everything changed in the blink of an eye.
The look of melancholy or deep emotional realization she thought she'd see never fully formed. Instead, it was overtaken by a horror-stricken expression.
